#he bitched about the cookies and bread that I brought

[fruitless-vain]

I feel like it is potentially not the wildest idea that perhaps if you Hate Christmas and are going to be a Rude Ass Cunt for the entire evening it may be a good idea to not demand that the holiday happens at your house? Demanding that *you host* claiming that you *love hosting* and then, actually, getting mad at everyone for every little thing and overall just having an obnoxious attitude complaining left right and centre over any thing you can think of

You can just choose to not be a part of the holiday. You can be a grown ass adult and say “I don’t want to receive or give gifts this year” or “I’m not liking hosting so let’s do it elsewhere” or any number of potential communication tactics that aren’t Snapping At Everyone For Any Given Reason

You can just, yknow, not participate instead of actively ruining the evening for everyone you’re supposed to care about?

[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers with an s/o who loves to cook and bake for them

I know this probably suck but like I’ve been saying constantly writers block is kicking my ass so this is the best I got until someone send in a request. I kinda clustered the Sawyer brothers and the Sinclair brothers together too just cause. Hope y’all enjoy

Includes: Billy Lenz, Bubba, Nubbins and Chop Top Sawyer, and The Sinclair Brothers 

Billy Lenz

You were always the one who cooked the most at the college house. You usually made food for everyone for dinner and breakfast at least and you’d make some kind of dessert once a week. 

Billy loves your cooking and ate it before you even met him, often talking about you in the calls he would make. 

Once you two actually knew each other Billy would request foods that he loves when you make it so you try to make enough for Billy too. 

If you make cookies one week you make another batch for Billy. If you make pancakes one morning you’ll make a few extra for Billy. 

You’ll usually be the one who brings the food to Billy and sit with him while he eats. He’ll always talk about how good your food tastes and how much he loves his ‘pretty piggy’ making food for him. 

He’s not really used to actual home cooked foods because he hopped from college house to house just eating whatever they had which wasn’t always the best food. So you cooking for him is something so new and amazing for him. 

The Sawyer brothers

Before you came Drayton was the only one who cooked and he was pretty good at it but you brought something new. He still cooked with you but you worked on the non meat areas of food. You started a garden at the house and bake bread for them to eat. 

You usually prioritize what Bubba wants to eat because he’s the nicest to you most of the time. But if Nubbins or Chop Top get on your good side you’ll make something they like too. 

When you bake Bubba loves to help you, and he’s pretty good at it too. You’ll teach him how to make some non american desserts too if you can like macaroons, flan cake, Turkish delights, etc. 

You’ll also try to get Drayton to make other types of food with his meat. If you’re lucky you’ll get him to use non human meat a few times a week. 

The boys would really like your cooking and if Drayton was busy one day he’d probably have you make dinner or if you wake up before him or he has to go to the gas station early you’ll the the one making breakfast but no ones complaining about your cooking. 

The Sinclair Brothers

Before you came Vincent or Lester cooked and it wasn’t always the best food. Because they couldn’t often run to the store most of the meat they used was from Lester and his road kill which isn’t the highest quality meat. That or they just eat pre cooked food they have to heat up. 

Like with the Sawyers you’d start a garden for the boys and take over cooking for them. Lester’s gonna be the one mainly coming to you with the food and stuff. He’ll cut up the meat for you and you’ll have to learn from him how to cook deer meat. 

If you complain about how you have a lack of ingredients Lester would suggest getting some farm animals to make up for it and Vincent would agree with him but Bo would obviously say no and just stock up as much as he can while at the store. 

The all love your cooking even though at first Bo’s gonna act like it’s just ok because he’s bit of a bitch but you’ll know he likes it when there’s a slight look of disapointment on his face when you have to cook something pre made because you got busy. He’ll bring whatever lunch you make for him down to the garage and Lester will take his too. 

When you bake it’ll probably be gone within a few days of making it. Like I said they haven’t had real quality food for awhile so this is like gold to them. Lester will request a lot of pies and stuff like that while Bo prefers when you bake breads and stuff. Vincent is fine with whatever but he likes when you make cakes so he can ice them. 

Bo might gift you some of his moms old aprons after awhile and act like it’s no big deal but you know this is emotional for him. 

[roosterisdaddy36]

A Detective Quinn Christmas Blurb

Wrote this for @punk-in-docs since I had Detective Quinn brain rot. Course I couldn’t resist our favorite serial killer. Enjoy Libby!  

The streets of restless LA were currently coated in a blanket of pure white as a snowstorm passed. Birdie never was one to go overboard to celebrate the holiday but when a certain detective disclosed to her that he has never participated in what he called a “useless means to go broke” when he saw how devastated his pretty bird was at the confession he offered for her to change his mind, which she has taken to heart and has pulled out all the stops to really put a smile on his face. Gingerbread men decorated and cooling as she slid a tray of raw chocolate chip cookies into her oven, Frank Sinatra quietly playing in the background as Birdie swayed to the music wiping her counters clean. Not hearing her front door close loudly followed by grumbling from Quinn bitching about how cold it is outside. “I fucking hate winter! It's always cold people are ruder cause they're cranky and then there's this god-forsaken holiday Chris-” He paused slowly sliding off his gloves and scarf watching her, his woman swaying gently to the singing of Frank Sinatra as she stirred something in the pot on the stove. He could hear his own heart racing at the domestic bliss he was observing, Birdie didn’t notice him until she felt cold hands snake around her waist but she knew who it was just by the smell of his cologne. He peppered her neck with gentle loving kisses as they continued to sway, pine and gingerbread wafting around the apartment while they danced. “Not bad for a Grinch. But go change out of your clothes and put something comfortable on…dinner is almost done and so are the cookies.” There on their bed was a pair of grey sweatpants and his black hoodie calling to him while he stripped away the stress of the day. He shut off his phone when he entered the kitchen again but not seeing Birdie as the table was set already and food was being served. Birdie’s parents mainly her father, notified her that they were coming for Christmas so she was nesting basically wanting tonight to go somewhat smoothly seeing as this would be Joseph’s first Christmas with her. “Darling, why are there two extra plates? You didn’t invite those jackasses from work did you?” She smiled fondly at him before pulling him into a mind-numbing kiss to shut him up not that he minded it when Birdie took charge. “My parents are coming. So this is going to be awkward as fuck but I really wanted my Dad to meet you and well… it has been a while since I saw my parents.” Birdie sighed before cleaning up the kitchen counters, Quinn has never seen her so nervous flustered yes but nervous to the point of biting her nails when he wasn't looking no.  “Calm down love I’m sure everything will be great okay? We’ll have a nice dinner I’ll charm your parents then I’ll drag your pretty little ass to the bedroom and give you a present that will keep me on Santa’s naughty list.” Normally his sexual comments would have her blushing but she only cracked a smile while they cuddled on the couch waiting. After waiting for a few hours there was finally someone knocking on Birdie’s door but sadly it wasn’t who she was expecting but Birdie’s disappointment didn’t deter her elderly neighbor. “Good Evening child, I just got done baking and remembered that you enjoy my banana bread and peanut butter fudge so I brought you some of the extras that were left behind. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas my dear especially with that gentleman I’ve seen around.” The old woman winked picking up the delicately wrapped wicker basket filled beyond to the brim with baked treats and a mug filled with hot chocolate packets. Joe smiled watching Birdie melt at the old woman’s kindness and it did pick up her mood a little more after closing her door. “They’re not coming are they sweetheart?” Seeing her head shake in a no followed by a sniffle made his heart break more for his poor girlfriend but an idea struck his head as he glanced at the bare Christmas tree. “Okay tell you what. How about I go get changed into some Christmas pajamas and we’ll turn on whatever movie you want while we decorate the tree. Sound like a deal songbird?” Birdie’s love for Quinn grew three times in size that night while they danced and decorated their tree together. Quinn would never admit it but he ended up wanting to celebrate Christmas with his little songbird every year. Birdie caught him staring at her while she smiled softly the warm glow from the candles enveloped her in an angelic light that Quinn wished he had a camera so he could keep it in his wallet. He loved the way her eyes slightly crinkled when she smiled or the way her tongue poked out slightly while she was focusing on wrapping the tinsel around the tree, he loved that woman more than he would ever speak into words. “Hey baby?” She turned towards him as he held up a mistletoe above their heads slowly capturing her lips with his gently, “Merry Christmas my love.” “Merry Christmas to you too Joe..but does this mean you like Christmas now?” A deep joyful laugh erupted out of him as he pulled her towards his chest giving her his answer with a heart stopping kiss. “Of course as long as its with you.”

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[rigmarolling]

Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring. 

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive. 

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry. 

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt. 

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet. 

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship. 

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer. 

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager. 

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes: 

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note:  The word “yule” is  the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads. 

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so. 

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws? 

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging. 

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it. 

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

[y0itsbri]

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

[platypanthewriter]

April Showers

Harringrove April Prompt 02:  April Showers!  Max drags Steve back to the Byers' after the fight, to make sure Billy didn't die on the Byers' floor, and they get some things talked out.  LAST PROMPT, GUYS! I'M DONE! 30 days! XD

It was something Susan had always said—April showers bring May flowers.  She said it when they visited Max’s grandma, and Max’s bigger, stronger cousins dogpiled her and ripped her hair out in chunks.  They apologized—insincerely, and Max accepted just as insincerely, already planning her revenge—and Max’s mom hugged her tightly, shaking with relief, and said “See?  You have to be patient, Max.  Sometimes things can be tough, but—”

“Then you shower vengeance upon them,” Max gritted out, narrowing her eyes at the beefiest cousin, because if she couldn’t be the strongest, she could definitely be the craziest.

“Maxine,” Susan groaned.

 Susan said it when her own mother looked at the dinner Susan had made, and said “...well, I suppose you did your best, dear.”

“The hell does that mean,” Max asked, slamming her hand on the table, and she got sent to her room.  

“It’s fine,” Susan said later, wringing her hands.  “The garlic bread was a little burned, and I’m not sure those tomatoes were ripe—”

“She can eat dog food next time you make the whole goddamn dinner,” Max told her, crossing her arms, and Susan smothered a laugh.

“Come on,” she said softly.  “Sometimes being in a family means you have to weather a few storms.  Don’t be mean to your grandma.  She loves you.”

“Does she?” Max asked flatly, and Susan reminded her of the awful Precious Moments figurines she’d gotten for Christmas.  “If those are my May flowers, they were not worth the crap,” Max told her, and Susan flinched.

 Susan said it again, shakily, when Neil brought her actual flowers, the day after he hit Billy into her newly-planted flower beds.  Billy had stormed in, leaving muddy footprints all down the hall, and at dinner his shoulder and jaw were scraped up from the metal thing Susan had put in to keep the grass from growing into her bulbs.

“Maybe you should be nice to him tomorrow,” Max heard her mother whispering to Neil, later.  “Take him somewhere.”

“Maybe to the dog pound,” Neil said, laughing, and Susan winced.  

“That ‘April showers’ thing is talking about actual rain, Mom,” Max said later, and “What the hell kind of flowers could even be worth this,” and “I don’t think Neil’s showers are the kind flowers survive, Mom, he’s more like the kind that causes landslides, and floods the garage.”

Susan hunched her shoulders a little, and lowered her eyes, the way she always did when somebody was mad, so Max stalked back to her room.  Billy was sprawled on her floor, reading her Beverly Cleary books.

Billy hid in Max’s room a lot that summer, because Neil didn’t think to look for him there.  He’d knock and immediately slide through her door, or run around and stand under her window with a bribe—some cookies, or a cold bottle of soda, or the next issue of The Amazing Spider-Man.  

He’d been fun, then, twitchy and awkward, but he’d burst into giggles when she commented on her mom and his dad.  They snuck out and went skateboarding, even, and ate cheetos as they read Billy’s comics, kicking their legs in the air—until Neil threw the door open one day, and drug Billy out by the upper arm.

Max didn’t know what he’d said to her mom, but Billy wasn’t allowed in her room anymore.  She couldn’t even shut the door before Neil or her mom would throw it open, and she was half tempted to just be naked the next time, and see how they liked that.  

Billy looked away from her, after that summer.  When she finally grabbed him--two months in to the silent treatment--he snarled, watching behind her, and twisted away.  She tried to follow him into his room, but he called her a bitch, and slammed the door right in her face, almost on her hand.

 The night after she drugged Billy with the syringe for Will, she grabbed Steve Harrington, and hauled him back to the Byers’.  

“You want a ride back to your car, right,” she’d hissed at him, and Steve blinked blearily at her, staggering a little.

“...I guess,” he mumbled, as she shoved him in the passenger seat.  

 Billy was lying a little more curled up than he had been, and she ran around to get a look at him, then sat down almost against her will once she could see him glowering hazily at her feet.  “Billy,” she whispered, sighing, and leaning back on one arm to rub her face.  She was so tired her arms shook, the adrenaline finally starting to clear her system from fighting the monsters of Hawkins.  

Steve lingered by the door, frowning down at them, and Max squinted at him, half wondering whether she should try and get her absolutely loaded brother in the car by herself, or whether she should try and bribe Steve into helping, somehow.  Or blackmail him.

There were some things Mike had seen that might come in handy, she thought, considering.  “I know about the time you got dumped by two girls on the same night,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“...what,” said Steve, who was pressing gently at his skull, where Billy’s knuckles had hit.  

“I’ll tell the next person you date,” Max said, setting her jaw, and trying to look like she could kill him with a shoelace.

“...what’s happening?” Steve asked, frowning at her.  “...what?”

Just then, Max realized she was so tired she’d threatened him without telling him what she wanted, yet.  “You gotta help me get this dumbass in the car,” she said, sighing.  “Or—or I’ll tell everybody I know you, um, you wet the bed.”

“...what,” Steve said again, and Max tried to be patient, since she’d seen how many times he’d been hit in the heat that night.

“...Max,” Billy mumbled.  “Fucking...bitch.”  He kind of half-rolled onto his back again, rolling his face away from her, and she slid a foot out and kicked his hand.

“Shut up, you,” she growled.  “I come running back here to see if you got your face eaten—”

“Whadda you care,” he whispered, laughing.  “You dun give a shit.  You wanted...brother like him,” Billy said, watching Steve, and Steve snorted a laugh.  “How come you’re never on my side,” Billy whispered, and Max kicked his limp hand again, sort of, her legs limp with exhaustion.

“Wow,” Steve sighed.

“Fuck you, the hell are you talking about,” Max hissed.  “You tried to kill him.”

“You knew,” Billy mumbled.  “Fucking...knew I’d get my ass kicked.  An’ you left the house,” he said, sighing, and trying to roll away, but he couldn’t even shift his body that much.  His hands twitched, and he groaned, closing his eyes.

“...I’ll help you get him in the car,” Steve said, and Billy sneered, laughing.

“Oh, ’s so nice, isn’ he?  Fucking...King Harrington.”

“You’re a piece of work, man,” Steve said, grimacing, but he helped her get Billy’s dead weight off Joyce Byers’ floor and down the steps to the cars.  “Want me to drive him home?  You get pulled over driving with him in the car…”

Max and Billy flinched at that.  “Fuck,” Billy panted, his face getting red and veiny as his head and arms dangled over Harrington’s back.  

“Oh, oh shit,” Max said, realizing she could hardly drive Billy home to a waiting Neil, when he was acting like he’d been doing drugs.  “We can’t take him home.  We can’t.  His dad’ll end him.”

“Like you give a shit,” Billy muttered.

“Jesus.  Let’s, um,” Steve thought, walking over to his car.  “You’re not bringing this jackass to my house, so don’t even—”

For a brief second, Max was so strongly homesick for the skatepark by their house in California she had to shut her eyes, imagining taking Billy somewhere she knew to sober up, somewhere with people who had nothing going on but a few skateboard tricks.  She groaned into her hands.

“Whoa, whoa,” Steve said, shifting Billy, who grunted.  “Look, wait, there’s—we’ll take him to the playground, okay.  When he’s sobered up some, he can drive you home.”

“What,” Max said, blinking as she imagined Billy going down slides.

“Just somewhere to sit that’s not Mrs. Byers’ floor,” Steve said, grimacing.

“...why’re you doing this,” Billy asked, possibly to both of them, and Steve groaned.

“No fucking clue.”

“Why’re you such a fucking asshole dipshit?” Max asked, rhetorically.

“Why d’you hate me so much,” Billy asked, as Steve struggled to hold him up and get the car door open, muttering, “Oh, I can think of a few reasons.”

“I don’t hate you!” Max shouted.  “I don’t!  Why the hell did you—why’d you try to beat up my friends—what the hell is wrong with you!”  

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Billy growled back, but he sounded tired.  “You’ve fucking...had it in for me for years.  Little...bitch.  Fuck...fuckface.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Steve sighed, levering Billy into the passenger seat of his car.  He slammed the door, and patted Max’s shoulder.  “Follow me, I’ll take you to the playground.”

She nodded, glaring at Billy through the window, and wondering what the hell.

 By the time she pulled up to the playground, craning to see in the low seat of the Camaro, Steve was hauling Billy back out of the car.  “Let’s get you on the swing,” he was saying.  “Get your feet moving a little, maybe.”

“Oh look, she’s here,” Billy said, baring his teeth.  “Don’t you wanna take me home, Maxine?  Tell my dad about something I actually did, for once.”

“The hell are you even talking about?” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes at Max, but Billy was glaring at her, his eyes still red and swollen from the mess he was, fighting Steve.  

“You’ll find out,” Billy laughed.  “Once she’s pissed and she tells everybody you touched her.  Fuck you, Maxine Mayfield,” he hissed at her, his jaw working, and Steve stopped, staring from Billy’s drooping head to Max’s face.

“Wait, what,” he breathed, leaning warily away from Billy, as Max’s mouth dropped open in fury.

“I never said that shit, what the hell,” she growled.  “I don’t lie.  I’m not a liar.”

“I never did,” Billy yelled back at her, staggering as Steve held on to him.  “I never—I never would’ve—I thought we were friends, you little shithead, you fucking—”

“I never said you did!” she yelled back, automatically, then remembered Neil dragging Billy out of her room.  Her mom had stopped being nice to Billy, after that, she realized—she’d noticed, but she hadn’t thought about when.  “...Billy, I never said that,” she whispered, watching his set face.  “I didn’t, I—I never would have said that.”

“You told him,” Billy shot back, growling and waving an arm at her, so Steve nearly dropped him.  Steve muttered profanity to himself as he hauled Billy along into the playground, and a few more feet, to the swings.  “You coulda said one goddamn thing to me, I thought you were okay with me coming around, I—you fucking told him I was scary, you—you know how he was kicking my ass—he fucking...” Billy bit his lips together, breathing unsteadily.  “Why the fuck would you tell him something like that—”

“I never did!” she shouted over him.  “I never...I missed you too, you fucking asshole, I thought...I don’t know what I thought,” she trailed off with a sigh, realizing Billy was glaring at her even harder.  

“...you didn’t tell my dad...to make me fuck off?” Billy said slowly.  

“I missed you,” Max told him, sitting on the next swing, while Steve stood behind Billy, balancing him so he didn’t faceplant in the gravel.  “Dunno why, but I did.”

“...he said I scared you,” Billy breathed.  “You didn’t want to be in the same house with me—”

“I never fucking said that,” Max growled, spinning on the swing to kick his leg.  “You moron, why would you…” she let her sentence trail off as she looked at him, and he was wiping his face, and sniffling.  “...the hell would you think I’d lie to get you to stay away?” she asked, her own face reddening as Billy pressed his fist over his mouth to muffle his wet sniffles.  Max’s own eyes stung and blurred.  “Didn’t want you going anywhere, dickhead,” she whispered hoarsely, “—you had the back-issues of X-Men.”

“Holy shit,” Billy laughed like he hadn’t since they were kids, looking at her sidelong.  “Thought you wanted me dead.”

“...’m sorry I had to sneak out,” she muttered.  “I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble.”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, “—I went nuts at the Byers’.”  

“You went batshit fucking insane,” Max said dryly, and Billy hunched his shoulders, glancing back over his shoulder.

Harrington stepped back, one hand out to catch him.  Billy clenched his hands on the chains for the swing.  “I got it,” he muttered.  “I won’t fall.”

Harrington nodded, and dropped into the swing on the other side of Billy.  “Nice little family therapy session,” he said dryly, and Max winced with Billy, remembering how Steve’s head must be pounding, and how he’d slurred his words, stumbling around because of Billy’s fists.  

“Sorry,” Billy grated out, and Steve snorted a laugh.

Max started explaining why she had to sneak out, stumbling over herself in her urgency, and Steve backed her up, just swaying on the swing tiredly, and kicking at the gravel.

“Fuck,” Billy started saying, as Steve described what had happened at the Byers’ the year before, and Max talked over him about the junkyard, and Billy’s eyes widened.  “Fuck,” he said again, “...shit, you...saved her,” he mumbled, like his brain was stuck.  “Holy shit.”  

It was getting cold, late at night in the playground, but Max didn’t want to leave, so she just watched Steve spin around the seat of his swing, slowly tightening and tightening the twisted chains until he let go in a whirl.  “Fuck.  Sorry,” Billy kept saying, wiping his eyes.

 For the first time, Max kind of...understood, what her mother meant, about the awful weather in April before flowers in May, because it wasn’t like Neil’s fucking raincloud was worthwhile, suddenly, but Billy was smirking at her again like a weight was off his shoulders.  He was kicking at the gravel just like Steve, two little kids, and he grinned whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.  

It was good to watch him bloom.

Here are my other Harringrove April prompts--DONE! 

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

OOH can we see how Kohga would react to Mipha asking for relationship advice? Since she’d see how devoted and passionate Sooga is for his Master, and not really anyone else in their group is in a relationship soooo

I’m just obsessed with him just adoring Mipha and trying his ass off to get her and Link together it’s so cute

One, thank you for recognizing the fact that Kohga playing Mipha’s wingman is possibly the best idea I’ve EVER had. Two, I am SO ready to start this absolute soft shit. Smut is fun and all, but come on, Kohga trying to hook bitches up is amazing. And third, this got waay out of hand, so enjoy some double dates here.

“So, did you get me something?”

Sooga hardly left Master Kohga’s side. Whenever he had to, be it to lend a hand elsewhere; he had TWO rules to follow; come home to him at the end of the day, and bring him something. Kohga had been sitting here, having tea with Mipha, while Sooga offered to help Sidon hunt for sneaky river snails (Sooga had a real knack for knowing where to find them). They came back with quite the haul, so the fact that he managed to get anything else was nothing to scoff at. He put the large bag of fish down on the floor, and from his pockets, produced a small cage. Inside the cage was what appeared to be a winterwing butterfly. Kohga clapped his hands together, clearly loving it.

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for one of these!”

“I know. It was why I had to stop in the middle of fishing to catch it for you. I may have let Sidon fall in the water in my haste. Maybe.”

Mipha cocked her head to the side upon seeing his reaction to the small bug.

“You like bugs?”

“Just the butterflies. I only keep them for a day or two before I let them go, I just think they’re neat.”

Kohga took a hold of Sooga’s chin, grinning from ear to ear.

“And SOMEONE seemed to remember me saying I wanted this specific one. You’re such a sap, Sooga.”

Sooga was trying (and failing) not to smile.

“I listen to EVERY word you say, master Kohga.”

“Ugh, you’re being mushy again. Get outta my face, go help shark boy with the fish.”

Kohga tried to look mean as he gently pushed his face away, but it was plainly obvious; Kohga loved him. Sooga pardoned himself, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and walked off with Sidon. Mipha took a sip of her tea, watching as Kohga lightly shook his head. She knew it was a bad emotion to feel, but she couldn’t resist feeling a bit jealous. They were so happy with one another, and yet, her own love and affections were clearly not recognized by the one boy she loved, more than anything. Perhaps…

“Kohga? Can I ask something?”

“Whatever you want.”

Kohga stopped ogling his boyfriend for a second and gave her his attention, snacking on the cookies she made, just for him (shaped in just the cutest seashells). She squirmed a bit in her seat, unsure of how to go about it, before she finally came out with it.

“How...did you get someone to love you, the way Sooga does?”

Kohga stopped eating for a second, looking at her sullen face. This little fish was just sweeter than banana bread, and it hurt poor ol’ Kohga to see her love so much, without Goldilocks even talking about it with her. Sure they were young, and they had forever to talk about this stuff, but there was no time like the present.

“Sooga is a fucking idiot, for one, and I attract idiots. Second, you kinda just. Come out with it. We started off as friends before anything, and that’s now all relationships start. Course, your case is a BIT different from mine. You want my honest opinion? Just shoot your shot. I mean, worst he’s gonna say is no. Or nothing with his mute ass…”

Kohga mumbled that last part, helping himself to another sip of tea. Realizing it didn’t seem to be very helpful, he sighed.

“Or, you could cook him something. Call me old fashioned, but my mama always said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I make mean salmon skin, look at the hunk I bagged.”

They both turned to look at Sooga, who was busy de shelling the fish alongside Sidon. Mipha pursed her little lips, before softly nodding.

“I...suppose that isn’t a bad idea at all. If I can find the courage in my heart to ask him.”

Just then, Kohga noticed Link walking alongside the princess. Small land, honestly. Kohga put his hands to the side of his face, crying out to Link.

“Yo Goldilocks! Mipha’s cookin’ tonight, you want in?!”

Link nodded, giving a thumbs up. Kohga shrugged.

“See? Easy. You just gotta be straightforward with boys.”

Mipha held her face in her hands, obviously embarrassed.

“But what do I do WHEN I make him something?! What do I say? What do I talk about with him?”

Kohga loved Mipha, really he did, but girl needed to stop seeing boys as a lynel, and more along the lines of wild horses. Something to tame, not to fear. He sighed.

“Tell you what. Me and Sooga will join you, sorta like a double date kinda deal. I’ll be there if the date goes bad, and we can dip when the date is going GOOD.”

Mipha looked up from the table with just the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You...would do that, for me?”

“Course, lil red! You’re like, my favorite in the little team of goody two shoes. Plus, free eats, can’t complain-”

She suddenly got out of her seat, and nearly pounced on him for a hug. The things he did for love.

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

“He here yet?”

“Not quite, but I’m just about done!”

Kohga came back a while later, alongside Sooga. Kohga had his own men helping her in the kitchen, setting up the dining room, everything she could need, Kohga helped with. Kohga scoffed as he put his gift on the dining room table (he’d be remiss if he didn’t bring something to drink for the occasion), lightly pulling up one of her fins, and scoffing.

“Okay, let the boys finish up. Sooga, get to work on this girl, she needs to focus on being as pretty as a fresh stack of banana pancakes.”

Sooga nodded, prompting Mipha to follow him to her bedroom. Kohga was about to see just what she was cooking, before the main doors flew open. Link. Aka, Goldilocks, aka, the guy that never fucking knocked. He was wearing the classic gerudo outfit. A real tits out look, and honestly Kohga would jump on that in a heartbeat.

“Goldilocks! Bit early! How you doing? Mipha will be ready in just a second, take a seat, lemme get you a drink!”

Link nodded. Kohga chatted him up for a minute, serving him a nice glass of banana wine (it’s actually VERY good). When he caught the eyes of Sooga, he pardoned himself and dipped into the hallway. He took one gander at Mipha, and gave a whistle.

“Girl look at YOU! Lookin’ prettier than a pack of opals!”

She really did look like a beauty. Freshly touched lipstick, sharpened nails, her silver jewelry replaced with gold, and instead of her usual blue sash, Sooga somehow managed to find time to make a blue, see through looking dress for her. It fit around her body snugly, but it was a loose, comfortable material, perfect for fashion, and function. Sooga was so talented, getting that together so quickly. Kohga nodded towards Link.

“Go keep him busy, gotta give this girl a pep talk.”

Sooga nodded. Once he left, Kohga carefully put his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me. Lookin? Okay good. You like this guy, so be you. BUT, you need to let him know you’re interested. Be flirty. Touch his hands, compliment him, fucking, feed him from your plate- make it obvious. You’re a princess. He’s a knight, it’s GONNA happen.”

She nodded firmly, shoulder’s straight as a Lynel’s. 

“I can do this!”

She peered over at Link, and immediately hid behind a wall again.

“I can’t do this! He’s wearing the voe armor!”

“For the love of…”

Kohga sighed. Why did he love all these shy bitches?

“Mipha. You’re gonna make HIM drool, not the other way around. Come on, you’ve got this. I’ll be right here, I’ll make you look good as hell. On three. One. Two. Three!”

He carefully pushed her towards the dining room, and Mipha looked ready to have a heart attack. Poor thing.

“Link! It’s so nice to have you over! I hope my invitation wasn’t sudden!”

Link shook his head. Kohga, sensing things were still awkward, jumped in. He was always the fun one at parties.

“Hey, you know what, we should totally start eating! I heard Mipha made quite the spread, Sooga why don’t you help bring the stuff out?”

Sooga nodded, heading into the kitchen. Kohga gestured for all of them to take a seat (with Mipha sitting right next to Link of course), and him just a bit away from them. Close enough to be supportive, but just far enough to beat it if he was cramping their style. Soon enough, trays of food were brought in, and even Kohga had to admit, he was starved.

“Master Kohga?”

“Yes, Sooga?”

“I’m sorry.”

He was about to ask what for, but then he saw it. Fish dish. Fish dish, not a single dish WASN’T fish. And he couldn’t just NOT eat her food, less he make Mipha’s food look awful. Kohga gulped, and Mipha seemed to catch onto his distress.

“Oh Kohga, I’m so sorry, I forgot you didn’t like fish! Please, let me make you-”

“Nope!”

Kohga could feel his ass sweating. He was really gonna sit here and eat fish, because Mipha deserved it. Link looked over at him, clearly just as confused as anyone else. Kohga forced himself to chuckle.

“I mean...I HATE clam chowder. A lot. It’s gross, it’s squishy, it smells AWFUL. Unless it’s Mipha’s. I LOVE Mipha’s clam chowder! She is just. SUCH  a good cook, I could eat a whole bowl!”

Link looked him right in his face, grabbed a bowl, and filled it completely with clam chowder. He slid the bowl over to him, and Kohga wanted to throw up. That yucky, smelly smell of fish. 

“Son of a bitch..I mean, yum! Thank you, Link.”

Mipha just had to like this blonde asshole. Sooga made a motion to grab the bowl, but Kohga halted him. He was going to do this for Mipha. He took a taste of it, and he fought every urge not to puke. Dear god, the smell and the taste was awful. But he forced himself to swallow, smiling.

“See? I l-like it! So it’s GOTTA be good! Mipha is just, so talented!”

Link seemed satisfied, helping himself to a bowl. Mipha looked at Kohga, clearly worried, but he shook his head. 

“Make it up to me by getting some, Mipha.”

He muttered underneath his breath, forcing himself to eat more. Sooga had no problems, this asshole, eating fish like it was nothing. Mipha pretended like she didn’t know anything was wrong, giving her attention towards Link.

“So, Link! You’ve been over at the Gerudo desert, I take it. Urbosa is doing well, I trust?”

Kohga didn’t pay attention to the one sided conversation, too focused on handling the thick creamy broth. His stomach churned, his head hurt, and he was just. Dying. Not even Sooga could help him. He was going to bail, but he saw it in Mipha’s eyes. She was getting more nervous, and this was JUST from watching Link eat. Oh god this was a mess. He forced himself to think past the creamy mush still left in his bowl.

“So, Link, what do you think of Mipha’s new look? Nice right?”

Link looked her up and down, before giving Mipha a thumbs up. Her cheeks exploded in color, and she looked ready to just melt. Kohga tried not to gag at the fish burp he just had.

“And Mipha, thoughts on Link’s outfit?”

Mipha hesitated, letting herself get a look at him, totally not looking at that titty (atta girl), before softly nodding.

“You had it dyed white, it looks very...nice, Link. It really goes with your golden hair.”

Distracted by her thoughts, she played with a strand of his hair, before suddenly realizing what she was doing. They both looked away, buried in blush, just two, dumb, flirty messes. Oh his girl was KILLING IT. Kohga forced himself to gulp down his bowl (somehow not choking on the chunks), nearly gasping as he finished. Oh that was a mistake. That did NOT feel right. Didn’t matter, Mipha was GETTING somewhere with this guy. He whispered to her, nudging at her side.

“Offer him some of your food.”

“But? He has the same thing in-”

“Say yours is different. Just do it, trust me. Sooga! With me, kitchen, now.”

They dipped into the kitchen, and Sooga immediately handed him a bucket. Just in time for Kohga to purge his guts. Sooga patted his back, sighing.

“No one told you to finish the bowl, Kohga.”

“I am SUPPORTIVE, dammit! She deserves-”

Yet another purge of his guts. He groaned, relying heavily on Sooga to keep him upright.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m VERY proud of you. Going through so much for the sake of her happiness. You’re a wonderful person.”

“Sooga, that’s sweet, but dear god I’m throwing up here, shut the fuck up.”

Kohga was three for three, and he was wondering if it was worth it. Then he peered into the dining room. Mipha was spoon feeding him from her bowl, going so far as to scold him for his messy face, and cleaning it with a cloth napkin. It was adorable, it was sweet, and dear god was this worth it. Sooga chuckled, peering down at Kohga.

“You’re incredible, Master Kohga, letting her have this.”

“I AM pretty great, aren’t I?”

They sat there, watching them. For a moment, for a brief, sweet moment, she wasn’t shy. She was honest with herself, she was even just a bit flirty. And Link looked as if he wasn’t clueless. It was so goddamn sweet, it was worth every second of stomach pain. Kinda.

“Oh it’s coming again- he better marry this girl, or I’m starting the war all the fuck over again.”

He was complaining, sure. But he was really, honestly proud of his little Mipha. He’d do this again and again, if it meant getting to see such a sweet, happy smile.

He just prayed he didn’t have to.

[gyllenhaalstories]

imagine taking rapper jake home to meet your parents.

i’m so sorry for the delay, anon! <3 buckle up, it got long and i’m emo!!!!! lil jakey jakes meeting your parents was not something i thought i’d cry about right now but here i am. i listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex if you want to vibe with me!

<3

jake swore he was about to shit his pants when you reminded him of the dinner with your parents.

he ran all over his house, searching for nothing and everything at oncel. one second it was his tie, the next his phone and after that his keys. he was just so terrified. he wanted to leave a good impression.

he dressed up like he was going to the oscars. he put on a suit, a new one he got tailored to his body just for the occasion. he covered all of his tattoos, with those long sleeves. he hid his chain under the color of the shirt you buttoned lovingly. he went to the barbershop too, he got a fresh cut and his beard neat. he looked like a movie star and even if this was not the man with whom you fell in love, you still loved this new persona.

“you’re so stressed that i’m stressed” you’d scream at him while he paced around the bedroom as you put on a simple outfit, some jeans and a button up shirt too. dresses felt too formal. it was your parents, not the pope. “we’re not going. i’m calling them and i’ll say i’m sick”.

jake stopped moving and protested. “if i wanna ask your father for your hand, i better know how he looks like first. if he likes golf, i’m out”.

the joke was unexpected, but it made both of you laugh. he kept bringing up marriage. it was like a running gag, but it felt more and more real. one day you would be called mrs gyllenhaal. and this day would not happen if you died from a heart attack because you couldn’t face the judgement of your parents.

so jake waited for you in the car. he picked a black jaguar, he didn’t want to be too obnoxious. he had the head lights shining bright and blinked them so you pretended to walk like a model and twirl in front of the car before you sat on the passenger seat. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.” jake said and noticed you, too, wore the chain he got you for your birthday. he stretched his arm out to play with it lightly and then proceeded to drive to your parents’ house.

he stopped in the drive way. it was a tiny home, very old with a bunch of flower pots that were wrapped up for the winter. it was lovely already. jake stopped the car and took deep breaths.

“you sound like you’re about to get into labor”

“it’s a neat trick you’ll have to try it”

and you both breathed fast like two freaks in the car while the music was playing in the background. some U2 song. it calmed the two of you down. when you got out of the car, jake immediately grabbed your hand. he needed the comfort.

you were about to ring the door bell when your mother slammed the door open and wrapped you in a tight hug.

jake smiled and looked behind her. he waved at your father.

“mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, jake. jake, this is my mom and dad.”

“hi mom, hi dad” jake replied and it made the two of them laugh.

jake wanted to bring champagne and flowers, but you convinced him to not do too much. your parents were simple people. they would be happy as long as jake didn’t tease you from under the table (the jeans were definitely a good option) or mentioned politics. 

“our daughter has told us a lot about you” your mother said “yeah, we heard you are a singer? isn’t that the dream” your father added

“yeah.” jake smiled awkwardly and took a sip from the glass of water you both shared. you were sitting on his lap, on the love seat of the small living room. your parents asked him tons of questions. he answered them genuinely. he asked them questions too. he was relieved to find out your father preferred hockey to golf.

you sat around the table. it was weird that the fourth chair of the dining table was finally used.

none of your previous relationships lasted long enough to reach this level of intimacy. sex was one thing, but meeting your parents? that was a HUGE deal.

jake behaved like the best man in the world. he complimented the food. it was just simple spaghetti and storebought garlic bread. but it tasted like love and home. he asked for two other plates. your mom even reached to wipe his chin from the tomato sauce.

it filled him with joy. he had a tough relationship with his own family and he felt like he fit right in with yours.

you watched jake with heart eyes. he was so happy to explain his art and craft to your father who kept asking him if he had met blake shelton or the backstreet boys. you know, hip people. jake laughed and shook his head. he didn’t bother explaining that he sang about filthy things the two of you did. he was happy they considered his job as valid. he was not a carpenter or a doctor. but he was happy to spoil you nonetheless.

“you’re doing great” you’d whisper to jake.

everything was fine. until your mom pulled out the baby photos albums. THE SHAME.

“look at that tiny baby booty!” jake pointed and melted. “toohtless! that gums only look, can’t wait to see it again when we’re old and grumpy.” he pulled out a photo. you were wearing matching ugly yellow zipped hoodie and plaid pants. you were holding a teddy bear of the same colour as the one he got you for your birthday. behind the photography it was written happy y/n at the park with her best friend. he asked if he could keep it. your parents agreed. (it was his phone home screen from now on, your lock screen being a post sex glow photo when he could see a tiny drop of cum at the corner of your eye, it was still cute to him). “so she’s always been bad at cooking?” he said and laughed when you found a picture of you and your grandparents where you held a plate of burnt cookies. “hey, not cool! i was only seven!” you pushed him gently. “look at you now, you burn bread in the toaster”. your parents were the ones who melted now.

“so, jacob...”

jake insisted that it was fine your father called him by his full name.

the two of you were so stressed out. the tone of your father’s voice was suddenly heavy and scary.

“yeah?”

“does it hurt to get tattoos?”

jake squinted and you coughed loud enough to cover the whispered what the fuck that came out of his open mouth. his sleeves were rolled up and exposing the ink. “i mean, yeah, it hurts a lot. it’s worth it though. i feel like an art collector.”

“in my young days, i’ve always wanted a tattoo. i got the concept. this lovely lady as a pin up girl, quite impressive, huh?.” he winked at your mom who blushed while you tried everything you could not to throw up.

jake rolled his sleeve a little higher and pointed at a spot near the veins of the inside of his arm, close to the elbow. he got the outline of a heart tattooed. you noticed how wobbly the lines were, that’s because it was the heart you always drew at the end of your notes that you left him when you were gone or when he was out working. “that’s my favourite.”

THE WAY YOU JUST BURST INTO TEARS and your mom shouted “time for dessert!”

great timing.

“our daughter told us you loved m&m’s”.

jake turned to look at you. you shrugged.

your mother came back with chocolate cake on which she had sprinked crushed m&m pieces on the frosting.

jake asked to get the biggest slice. “that’s the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in my whole life.” (which was a lie because the best cake was your ass but details) he said, his mouth full. your mother laughed and your father agreed. they began talking about hockey when your mother asked for your help in the kitchen.

“if we learned anything from you,” she started and handed you a plate to dry. you hated to do the dishes, especially if you were to be lectured like a child. “it’s to never judge people by their covers. we love jake. he’s good to you. you’re good to him.”

you hugged your mom and the two of you cried so loudly that jake dropped his spoon. he thought something bad happened. that you cut yourself with the butter knife or something.

“welcome to the family, jake.” your father squeezed jake’s shoulder as you walked back to him to press a kiss on his cheek.

it was now time to leave, after hours and hours of anecdotes from your childhood or from the time you were convinced you’d marry brad pitt or when you put eyeshadow in your hair to act like you dyed them to be punk but it was raining that day and you came back looking like a sad frosty rainbow.

“you’re my favourite person.” jake told you when he gave you his vest as a coat. it was chilly outside.

you all hugged and shook hands, promising to come back soon for brunch. jake told them he’d make his famous pancakes.

“hold on!” jake exclaimed and pulled you by the arm. you followed him back in the kitchen and he fed you a spoon of the cake. you fed him one in return again. “tastes almost as good as your pussy” he whispered in your ear and kissed your chocolate covered lips.

you finally left the house, waving from the car at your parents who stood on the porch. they seemed satisfied. and you? you had never been more in love.

“can’t wait to rip those tight jeans off your body and fuck you like a bitch.” jake winked and started to drive away. “i’m looking forward to the toothless viagra boosted blowjobs too, that’s gonna feel divine.” 

you slapped his thigh and he moaned in pain. you rested your hand there and he brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

“welcome to the family.” you repeated.

[writtenonreceipts]

another fanfic no one asked for, a creation due to hyperfixation...i saw a prompt about writing a story based only on message machine answers.  so here we are.  formatting is weird.  i was too lazy to do anything super special.  based on character from Throne of Glass 

No one answers their phones.  People eat cake.  People vomit.  People almost die.  People change.  Elorcan. Slight language and references to adult themes.

i’m thinking about doing a full out prose version based on the events of this fic, if anyone’s interested? lmk

enjoy

You’ve Got a Voicemail

December 20

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

Hey it’s Elide, sorry I missed you.

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP.

December 23

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

Hey, it’s Elide, sorry I missed you.

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP.

December 31

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

Hey, it’s Elide, sorry I missed you.

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP.

I—I

BEEP.  Call ended.

December 31

CALL FROM: Whitethorn

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

It’s Rowan man.  Where are you?  It’s almost midnight and Fenrys is already wasted and…hell he’s climbing on the tables already.  Just get here man.

January 1

CALL FROM: UNKOWN

Hey, it’s Elide. Sorry I missed you.

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

Hi Elide, this is Nox, from the bar last night.  Your friend Manon gave me your number.  You wanna get coffee sometime?

January 1

CALL FROM: the witcher

Hey, it’s Elide. Sorry I missed you.

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

Relax.  He was hot and into you and not devoid of all human emotion.

January 1

CALL FROM: Whitethorn

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

Did you know Fenrys can sing?  You shoulda been there last night.

February 14

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

This is Elide’s phone and she is gonna get wasted tonight! She’s single so you should call back. *a chair knocks over*AELIN!

>>Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP.

February 15

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP.

Lorcan.  Lorcan, I—I just need you to stop calling.  Okay?

April 27

CALL FROM: the *NEW* ass of perranth

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

It’s Nox.  I left my key underneath the pot of those blue flowers.

May 1

CALL FROM: yrene

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP.

Hey Elide, it’s Yrene! Sorry I missed you but just a reminder, you have to come tonight okay?  Please.  Chaol and I are buying food and drinks so be there.

May 2

CALL FROM: fire-breathing bitch queen

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

Lorcan?  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  It’s Aelin. Um.  I just.  Can you just come to the hospital?  Chaol was in an accident and I can’t get a hold of anyone.  Please?

May 2

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP.

Elide, it’s Aelin. Just get Yrene here soon okay?

May 2

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

*Exhale* You left your coat in my car.  I gave it to Aelin.

May 3

CALL FROM: fire-breathing bitch queen

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

It’s Aelin again. Keep screening my calls that’s fine. Could you bring coffee to the hospital when you come?  Rowan’s flight got delayed again.  Dorian and Manon get back in a few hours and I can’t handle it without coffee.  Don’t ask me to beg, but if you bring chocolate cake I won’t knee you in the groin every time I see you.

May 3

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a detailed message after the tone.

It’s me.  I have your jacket.  Sorry I made you hitch a ride with Salvaterre.  Hey…um…are you sure you’re okay?

May 10

CALL FROM: Chaol’s Yrene

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Hey Lorcan.  It’s Yrene.  I just wanted to thank-you for taking care of my garden with everything going on. Chaol gets home from the hospital next week, you should come for dinner.

May 10

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a detailed message after the tone.

BEEP

It’s Aelin. Again.  You aren’t that broken up about Nox are you?  I mean…are you?  Call me bitch.

May 10

CALL FROM: the witcher

This is Elide Lochan of Perranth Publishing House.  Leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you shortly.

>>Please leave a detailed message after the tome.

BEEP

Screw you.  Answer the phone and stop making me leave messages. *Muffled curse* Abraxos misses you because you actually take him for walks.  Bitch.

May 20

CALL FROM: Chaol’s Yrene

Lorcan Salvaterre is unavailable.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP.

It’s Yrene.  Be here at seven.  At seven Salvaterre.  

June 1

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone

BEEP

June 1

CALL FROM: fire-breathing bitch queen

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Just because I let you crash at my place does not give you the right to each my chocolate cake.  For breakfast.  I’ll let Rowan beat you.  Better yet I’ll beat you.  Bitch.

June 3

CALL FROM: Yrene

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

It’s Yrene.  Just wanted to thank-you for helping put up the ramp at our new place.  Chaol’s wheelchair appreciates it.  Are you still staying with Aelin?  I want to bring some cookies over.  Plenty to share too, I know how she eats.  Please don’t tell her I said that.

June 4

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

You could have told me you lost your job.  Come over tonight?  I’ll make Rowan order take out and we can watch Stranger Things.  

June 5

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

*Muffled curse*

>>Call ended

June 5

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

*Muffled curse* Aelin needed to get a hold of you, I swear.  Her phone died.  Chaol’s in the hospital again.  She…she needed you.

June 6

CALL FROM: Elide

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Sorry I called you a bastard.

June 6

CALL FROM: Elide

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Even though that’s totally what you are.  Bastard.

June 8

CALL FROM: Yrene

Lorcan Salaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

He’s in surgery again. They found the clot in time. Thanks for checking in Lorcan.  If it’s not too much to ask, can you bring me a pickle sandwich?  Um…just bread and pickles.  Actually, mayo too.  No.  No never mind that’s a bad idea.  Pickles and bread.  And olives.

June 8

CALL FROM: Chaol’s BF

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

You were actually being nice to Chaol’s wife?  Dude. *Muffled curse* Manon, I’m serious, it’s strange.  OW!

June 10

CALL FROM: yrene

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

It’s Yrene.  I’m sorry about what happened.  I’ll buy you new shoes.  And socks.  And pants. Oh geez.  I didn’t think I would be so sick.  And if you could just not mention what happened?  I’m super embarrassed and um…not usually sick?  Anyway, I know you said your coming back later if I grovel enough could you bring me a pickle sandwich?

June 10

CALL FROM: Elide

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave your message after the tone.

BEEP

Since we both go roped into pickle sandwich duty, should we come up with a schedule?  Um, I mean…just…Yrene puked all over me right?  So, just…she shouldn’t be alone.  Chaol’s recovery’s going to be a long one so I just thought. Never mind.

June 10

CALL FROM: the ass of perranth

It’s Elide.  Sorry I missed your call, it’s been a year, haha. Leave a message.

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

I’ll get the sandwiches for this week.

June 15

CALL FROM: Elide

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Pickles and ice cream. Together.  Not separate.  I’m going to tell everyone and make them do this.  She still hasn’t gotten me new shoes.

June 20

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

It’s Elide, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you!

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

You sound happy?  You’re jobless, you know that right?  Rowan might have a job for you actually.  But, that’s not why I called.  Lorcan’s been here too long.  I hate the man.  Why have I let him stay in my apartment for so long Elide?  Ugh.  He needs a girlfriend.  Oh…um…you know what I mean.  Sorry. OH!! You know what we should do. We should go out.  Tonight.  Girls night.

June 20

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

It’s Elide, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you!

>>Please leave a message after the tone

BEEP

Manon totally brought Dorian.  Imma call Rowan.  Get out of the bathroom.  Slut.

June 20

CALL FROM: chocolate cake

It’s Elide, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you!

>>Please leave a message after the tone

BEEP

He brought Loooorcan. He’s the slut!

June 20

CALL FROM: Aelin

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

If you go home with her, I will murder you.  We will murder you.  Aelin and I together.  Because that’s what bitches do.

June 21

CALL FROM: the *ass* of perranth

It’s Elide, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you!

>>Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

You left your bra at my place.  I’ll keep it here for you.

June 21

CALL FROM: Elide

Lorcan Salvaterre is not available.  Please leave a message after the tone.

BEEP

Ass.   

[hms-chill]

The Long Way

A nice fun Liam/Spencer fic, because these boys deserve the world.

Summary: (Alternately titled “SOMEONE GIVE LIAM A HUG” or “Stronk Farm Boyfriends”)Liam’s just finishing up vet school, and he’s a month shy of achieving the thing he’s been working for since he was a kid. When he gets called out to a farm to witness a calf birth and notices something wrong, under-researched, and curable, it’s the perfect thing to treat and document so he can write a paper that will jump-start his career. Of course, the fact that the calf is owned by a cute dairy farmer doesn’t hurt, either.

Chapter one // Chapter two // Chapter 3 // On AO3

Chapter 4

Liam spends next day at his own apartment for once, and it’s entirely dedicated to a study session. It's nice enough that he can open a window to alleviate some of the weed smell from his neighbors, and he's at the table he's using as a desk, surrounded by class notes and second-hand NAVLE practice books while he boils water for ramen. The test is a week away, so he’s spent the day holed up with his work, trying to force his brain to pay attention to studying with only half an Adderall, two cups of cheap coffee, and last night’s ramen as fuel.

It's not going particularly well.

He can’t do this. For some reason, the thing that his brain has decided to latch onto is that simple, solid fact that he can’t do it. He’s going to have wasted the past for years of his life, amassing loads of debt and loads of stress, all for nothing. Because he’s going to fail. He's going to fail this exam, and there’s no way he’ll be able to retake it, and he’s going to have lost everything and made a mess of his life. It’ll all have been a waste, because he can’t pass this exam, and—

His phone buzzes with a text, and as much as he would have cursed the distraction at another time, he finds a moment to bless the fact that his brain refuses to have any sort of attention span on its own.

It's Spencer. How's studying? Need a cookie break?

His cheeks are wet, and he realizes he's crying. He's not sure when that happened. His phone buzzes again.

 Made chocolate chip with my mom's recipe. I could bring them and just drop them off, or quiz you? Or leave you alone if you'd rather

 Last text but my parents dropped off some early veggies from their garden and I can’t eat them all do you want some? Beans, peas…

 Okay actual last text so I stop bothering you but you’re smart and you’re going to do great

Liam swallows hard, then picks up the phone and calls Spencer. He tells himself it’s just because it’ll be faster than typing out a response, and he’ll be more likely to stay focused on it, but really, he just wants to hear another human. Spencer picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, how’s studying going?”

Liam’s brain empties completely at the sound of Spencer’s voice. He manages a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and Spencer’s tone changes from his peppy greeting to something more comforting.

“I’ve got cookies and zucchini bread and more peas than I could eat in a lifetime. Where can I meet you? Your apartment?”

Liam looks around the apartment, already shaking his head. He can’t let Spencer see this. Spencer, with his perfect farmhouse and his perfect, beautiful ranch, can’t see the stacked boxes stuffed with clothes serving as a dresser or the mattress on the floor. He can’t see the empty kitchen drawers or the old t-shirt Liam uses as a dish towel, or the ramen on the stove, and he definitely can’t see the way everything in the apartment is still half-packed despite Liam having lived there for almost a year. He can't see the constant state of waiting to leave that Liam lives in.

“No. No, not… not here.”

“Okay. Hey, it’s okay. What about a… a park or something? It’s nice out, and getting outside in the fresh air and sun would probably be good for you. Is there a park by you where we could meet?”

“Yeah. You… do you know Quail Creek Park? By the YMCA?”

“I can look it up and meet you there. Do you want to keep talking for a bit?”

“Please?” He hates how pathetic he sounds, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care.

“Okay. We’ll keep talking while you get ready to come meet me. Annie says hi. She was out playing with some of the other calves today, I mean really playing with them; I took a video I’ll have to show you. You’ll be so proud of her. And my mamma says hi, too, and thanks you for taking care of morning chores…” he talks, and Liam puts him on speaker, then just closes his eyes and makes himself breathe for a bit before he has to get to turning off the stove and packing up his books. Somehow, with Spencer’s voice as his soundtrack, he feels like he can really breathe for the first time all day. Being out there every night while Spencer was sick spoiled him, is all; he misses the outdoors and the company. When he feels like he has some semblance of control over his emotional state, he moves to get ready, turning off the stove and filling his bag with books, then staring at the meds on the corner of the table he uses as a desk. There are three pills left, and he gets paid on Friday. He puts it in his bag, though he promises himself he won’t take one unless he really, really needs it.

Eventually, he can actually pick up the phone again and start listening to Spencer talk about his day. When he hits a bit of a break, Liam jumps in with, “I’m… I’m going to be honest, I haven’t really been listening to anything you said, but thank you. I… it was good to hear another voice; I’m on my way to the park now.”

“That’s alright; I’m glad I could help. I’ll meet you at the park. Want me to stay on?”

“No; I’m okay. Thank you. Really, thank you. This means a lot.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you at the park soon.” He lets Liam be the one to hang up, and Liam tries not to feel anything about that as he takes his bag and keys to the car. It’s a quick drive to the park, and when he gets there, Spencer’s truck is in the parking lot. He wonders how long Spencer’s been there and realizes he has no idea how long it took him to calm down, but he doesn’t have time to ask or dwell on that. As soon as he’s out of the car, Spencer’s there to give him a hug and lead him toward a picnic table, and Liam just follows him automatically.

“Alright. I brought dinner, since I’m not sure you’ve eaten, and then I’ve got a whole care package my parents put together to thank you, plus some stuff from me, also as a thank you for last week. What you did for us… it was huge. It… hey, no, it’s not a big deal. I mean, your help was, but these care packages aren’t anything big. It’s fine.”

“Sorry,” Liam mumbles, trying to get rid of the tears prickling at his eyes before Spencer can make a whole thing of it. “Sorry, it’s just been a day. A whole, long, frustrating day.”

“Want to tell me? You let me ramble about my day; I could return the favor.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I just… I was supposed to get a prescription filled, but shit happened, so I’ve been on a half dose to make it last and it’s a bitch.”

“What happened? Was it something with the pharmacy, or your doctor…”

“No, it’s… it’s there, I just… it’s expensive.” Liam’s whole face is red, and he can feel Spencer looking at him, but he can’t tear his eyes off the table in front of him.

“Let me get it. Or at least help? You stocked my whole medicine cabinet last week, let me--”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. You brought me all this food, I--”

“You’re not asking me to do it. I’m asking. I want to help you out. You’ve been feeding me and doing my chores and filling my fridge basically all week, not to mention everything you did for Annie and wouldn’t let me pay you for. Let me do this. Please. It’s what Bell would want.” At the mention of Bell, Liam feels his shoulders slump as any resilience or fight drains out of him in a breath. Spencer’s right. Bell wouldn’t want him to deal with this, wouldn’t want him as worn out as he is. She’d make him take his meds, and she’d want him to be able to accept help.

“It’s… it’s not even that much; I just… I’m in a tight spot with NAVLE fees and stuff. I’ll pay you back, I swear,” Liam says. He manages to look up, and Spencer’s smiling, not with the smile of someone who just won an argument, but with the smile of someone who wants to help.

“Is the pharmacy you go to nearby?”

“Yeah, it’s… we should be able to walk there. The H-E-B a few blocks away has one I go to.”

“Okay. Let’s get this stuff back in the cars, then we’ll go pick it up and come back for a picnic and either a study session or a break, whichever you need.”

“Thank you.” Liam’s still pretty sure his face is bright red, but Spencer hasn’t said anything about it.

“Of course. Come on; let’s get you your meds. Plus, you want to see that video of Annie with the other calves? We can watch it while we wait for them to get things together. It’s not that long, but you know. It’s something to do, and to look forward to.”

“Thank you.” He’s not sure what else to say as Spencer moves two surprisingly full care packages into his little, beat-up car. His brain focuses on them for just long enough to remind him that these might be the first care packages he’s ever gotten before it slips back into its half-focused self-pity as Liam leads the way to the pharmacy. Spencer follows him, and they’re quiet for a block.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Spencer says at the light. “Medicine’s expensive, and you’ve been busy helping me, not to mention all the work you’ve been doing with Annie and for the NAVLE. And I... I wish you hadn’t had to go a day without them, but I’m glad I get a chance to help you back.”

Liam can’t find any words in his muddled brain, but he can tell his face is red. He hates everything about this. He hates that he needs help, and that he can’t even pay for his own meds, but he can’t study for a job that will pay for meds until he gets them. He hates that his brain needs help to do something as simple as paying attention, and he hates that he’s going to fail the NAVLE and have wasted everything, and he’s never going to be able to help or pay Spencer back. They don’t even know each other, not really; he’d just showed up at Spencer’s house for a cow birth and now Spencer has to help him. And he hates it. He hates being broke, and he hates needing help, and he hates that he’s going to be broke and helpless forever.

“Liam? What… what is it? Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer’s voice is so gentle it shocks him. The next thing he processes is the wetness on his cheeks, and that he’s crying. Of course the one thing his brain would decide is worth focusing on today is something that will make him cry on the sidewalk.

“I’m going to fail,” he mumbles, and Spencer wraps him in a hug. Liam can feel Spencer shaking his head, and he tries to fight it, but he’s crying in the middle of the sidewalk, being held by a man he barely knows. “I’m going to fail, and I’ll never be able to retake it; I’ll never be good enough to get what I want. I’m… I’m going to be a broke, helpless failure forever, and if this embarrassment doesn’t kill me, student loan debt will.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re not going to fail, but even if you do, that doesn’t make you a failure,” Spencer tells him, rubbing his back. “You are so much more than however this test turns out.”

“I… I am going to. To fail, I mean. More than 20% of people who took it last year failed; that’s one in five, and you know they all had the right prep books and could pay for things like practice tests and multiple takes. I don’t have any of that. I’m… I’m going to fail.”

“Well, if over twenty percent failed, then that means eighty percent of people got it. Don’t check my math on that; I’m a can’t-do-math gay.” That gets a bit of a chuckle out of Liam, and Spencer goes back to the voice he uses to soothe the cows when it rains too hard. “You’re going to do well. You’ve done great on all the practice tests we’ve done, and you’ve worked so hard. And if you don’t pass it, you’ll come work on the farm with me. We’ll get you an unofficial vet job until you can retake it or figure something out.”

“I… I can’t afford to retake it, but maybe… when I fail, I’d… I’d like that. I’m sorry. I’ll be better once I’m not in withdrawal, but knowing why I’m feeling all… ugh doesn’t help me feel less ugh.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. There’s no shame in feeling ugh; I felt ugh all last week.”

“Yeah, but that’s not your fault. If I had my shit more together--”

“This isn’t your fault, either. You’ve been taking care of me, now let me take care of you. It shouldn’t have to be reciprocal, but if you want to think of it that way for now, we will.” Spencer’s got them walking again, his arm around Liam’s shoulders. It’s nice. “You’re not supposed to have to do everything on your own, you know. I don’t know how you’ve made it this far without family nearby; I’d be lost without my parents and our neighbors. They’re… I guess Cat and Addy aren’t technically family, but they basically are. They taught me how to ride a horse and do barrels, and Cat used to get me into every mutton bustin’ event she could.”

“Did you have a little cowboy hat and everything?” Liam asks, half because he wants to know and half because he definitely does not want to talk about parents.

“Of course. I think we might still have it at the house; Addy got it for me before my first barrel riding event. Mom wants me to pass it down to another kid. She was thinking mine, but then I came out, and she told me I’d just have to find a kid to love like Addy and Cat loved me.”

“That’s… that’s really sweet of her. And them, too, but… that’s really, really cool of your mom.”

Spencer nods, smiling as he holds open the door to the H-E-B. As they step inside, Liam’s good mood evaporates. He swallows hard, then says, “you still don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. It’s what Annie and Bell would want for you, and... and it's what I want, too. I want you to be okay.”

Liam doesn’t say anything, just goes to the pharmacy and gives them his name and prescription. Spencer pulls up the video of Annie playing, and Liam tries to watch it, he does, but his brain can’t focus and his mind is decidedly somewhere else. He’s not sure where it is, but whatever bog it’s found to wallow in, it’s not leaving any time soon.

The pharmacy calls his name, and he goes up with coupons on his phone screen, trying to figure out how he can afford it without Spencer’s help. The total comes to $24.89. He has exactly $26.27 in his bank account, but his car is almost out of gas, and he needs it to get to work, and he won’t be paid until Friday. He wants to scream. Instead, he just tells the woman they’ll pay at the check out, thanks her, and turns to see Spencer standing behind him, far enough away that he’s not eavesdropping.

“Anything else you need? I promise I’ll pay you back for these, I swear. I get paid on Friday. Or I… I’ll put gas in my car and then--”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You did my chores all week; call it payment for that.” Spencer glances at the price, then adds, “that’s still criminally underpaying you for the work you’ve done for me this week. I’ve got a few things I could grab; is there anything you need? Anything Bell would want you to have?”

“I… I guess maybe fruit? Maybe some apples, because she likes them. We always used to share them growing up.”

“Alright, we’ll get a bag of apples. Anything else you need? There’s some milk and butter in a cooler I’m supposed to send you home with from the farm, so you don't need those.”

“That’s it; just the apples. Thank you.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t be in a tight spot if you hadn’t helped me. Plus, I mean, vet school and your residency and this test and everything is intense. I see how hard you’re working, and you still gave up what time you had to look after me and the farm… it means a lot. Really; I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

“You’re going to make me cry again, jerk,” Liam mumbles. Spencer squeezes his arm a bit, offering him a little smile.

“I’m serious. You’re the most hardworking, dedicated guy I know. But you… you’re tired. You need a break. So, what we’re going to do, is we’re going to get you some apples and some nice coffee because I know the coffee you buy yourself tastes like dirt, and then we’re going to go back to the cars, and you’re going to have a good cry. No, you don’t get to argue. We’ll at least go sit in a car, so it’ll be sort of private, and you’re going to talk about everything you need to get off your chest.”

Liam hesitates for a second, giving him a chance to back out, but Spencer is clearly not willing to debate this, so Liam just nods.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Spencer’s smiling, and Liam offers him something close to a smile as they go back to shopping, and they’re walking back to the park with grocery bags in hand before Liam knows it. Spencer talks off and on, and Liam tries his best, but his brain is somehow on everything and nothing. It’s all he can do to put one foot in front of the other as his brain focuses on birds and trees and a cool mushroom while his mind and soul and all his messy gut emotions tumble down a widening gyre of shame and exhaustion and failure. He doesn’t even notice when they reach the park; Spencer has to pull him toward the truck. Once they’re safely inside, Spencer grabs a water bottle from the back and asks, “Can… is it safe for you to take a full dose of your meds now? I know timing matters on stuff like this, but if you can feel better sooner…”

It takes Liam a minute to process, but he looks at the clock on the dash and nods. “I… I have the old bottle; I should finish that.”

“Okay. Where’s the old bottle? Is it in your bag?” Liam nods, turning to dig through his bag and find the little orange bottle. The three little pills left rattle around, and the part of his brain that’s been focused on rationing screams at him to wait, tells him that he can go a bit longer without meds. He ignores it, taking a pill and washing it down with the water bottle Spencer hands him. Then, gently, Spencer says, “do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

“I… I just…” he’s going to find some nice way to say it, some polished and emotionless and clean wording, but Spencer looks so earnest, so genuinely concerned in a way no one has been for ages, that Liam can’t help himself. “It’s all so fucking much, and I’m going to fail, and it’ll all have been a waste. All of this, this… the studying, and the school, and the money, and the years of my life, it’ll all have been a waste because I’m too stupid to pass a fucking test. And when I fail I’ll lose my job, and I can’t afford to retake the test because I’m not a fucking… trust fund kid or anything like that, and the stupid test costs $700, and then all my friends who took it last fall and passed will be fine and successful and doing great things and I’ll be all alone again, and I’ll never get to help people or live with Bell or do any of the things I want to do, and it’ll all be my fault for failing.” He started crying at some point, big, hot, angry sobs, and he should probably be embarrassed about them, but he’s not. “I just wanted to help people and their animals. That’s all I ever wanted, ever since I was a kid, and now I can’t. Because my stupid brain doesn’t work, and… and I can’t afford to make it work, and I can’t even look after myself when I’m alone, so how in the fuck am I supposed to help Bell or other people or animals or… or help anyone when I can’t stop being a disaster. I can’t… I just…” He doesn't have the words for the past eight years, the overwhelming pile of exhaustion and disaster that has been slowly draining him. He’s exhausted, and he’s scared, and he’s never felt like more of a disappointment. He just sort of gestures helplessly at himself, hoping Spencer can understand something from his breakdown.

Between sobs, he hears Spencer ask, “can I hug you? Is that okay?”

He nods, and Spencer does hug him, somehow navigating the awkward space enough to wrap his arms around Liam and hold him together as he finally stops trying to explain things and just lets himself fall apart. Liam clings to him, his hands filling themselves with Spencer’s shirt as his face finds its way to Spencer’s shoulder. Just for now, for this one moment in a life of people moving on, he needs someone to stay.

“I’ve got you,” Spencer promises softly, rubbing his back. “I’ve got you.”

Liam’s not sure how long it’s been when he breaks through Spencer’s reassuring murmurs to admit, “I’m… I’m scared.” He’d stopped crying a while ago, but he can’t bring himself to let go of Spencer.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to do great, but if you don’t, we’ll figure it out together.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… we barely know each other; I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You cleaned up my vomit last week; we’re closer than you think.” Liam laughs a bit, finally pulling away. Spencer gives him a last squeeze and lets go, and when Liam leans back, he sees that Spencer’s braced against the bitch seat between them, his whole body contorted in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable so that he was at the right angle for a hug. He looks ridiculous, and Liam can’t help but laugh a bit as he digs around for something in the back seat, not moving away. The laugh comes out wrong, too wet and close to a sob, but it’s something, and that something is enough to put a bit of a smile on Spencer’s face when he looks up a second later with a water bottle in his hand.

The smile fades into something else a moment later, Liam’s not sure how to read that look, especially combined with Spencer’s awkward position. It’s softer than what Liam would have expected, somehow. He’d expected some sort of joke, something to brush off what’s just happened or to help them ignore it, because every time he’s shown even a fraction of his fear to anyone else, that’s how it’s met. They’ll be awkward about it, and make a joke, and then they’ll move on. But when Spencer looks at him, that’s not what he gets. Instead, it’s concern. There’s a touch of confusion, but there's such an earnest concern behind it that Liam isn’t sure what to think.

“What is it?” Spencer asks, and it takes Liam a minute to realize he’s talking about the laugh.

“It’s… nothing. Thank you.”

“Of course. Here; you should drink something so you don’t get a headache. And… if you want, when you’re ready, we could go have a picnic? And we can study if you want, but we don’t have to. Only if you think it would make you feel better.”

“Maybe after we eat? If… how long can you stay?”

“Feeding and milking are done for the night, so I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Okay. If… you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you for this,” Liam tells his lap. He can’t bring himself to look Spencer in the eye again, not with everything that’s just happened. “You didn’t have to do any of it; I… I’m just a vet who showed up a few times. But thank you. It… it means more than you know.”

“Liam? Can you look at me a minute?” He looks up, and Spencer makes sure to look him in the eye when he says, “You’re important to me. I just want you to know that. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad I could help you. I’m glad you’re in my life.”

Liam’s not sure how to react to that. Somewhere, his brain processes that Spencer has nice eyes. That feels more real than anything that’s happened today, so he forces himself to latch onto it. They're dark eyes, the color of the earth on the farm where Liam grew up, that good black dirt that nourishes crops and feeds the world. They're so soft, framed by long lashes, and in the shadows of the twilight that surrounds the truck, they're transformed into inky pools, filled with a warmth and concern that Liam could sink into. When meeting Spencer’s eyes gets to be too much, he focuses instead on Spencer’s hand. He thinks about how the muscles and bones and tendons all work together to hold out the water bottle so Liam will drink some more. Mentally, he categorizes the way Spencer’s hand works, the machinery under the skin that makes it move and brings it to life. He catalogues the scar on Spencer's thumb and the callouses on his palm, memorizes the way his nails are cut and the tan lines on the backs from the gloves he wears to do work outside. Really, the human hand is a miracle. When he takes the water bottle and his hand brushes the miracle of Spencer’s, he nearly forgets how to breathe.

By the time he’s done drinking, Spencer is digging around in the back seat, and the spell is broken. Still, some part of Liam’s brain notes that he has a nice ass. Spencer emerges a second later with the picnic basket, holds it up with a smile, and says, “shall we?”

On AO3

--

Take your meds, kids. And don't be afraid to ask for help; it's important.

--

Want to support the Hannah Makes Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

[at-the-exd-of-everythixg]

💍 + ][Sal and Rhys, for some softness even tho they're also unlikely to get married][

@blind-mutant oh these boys!! 100% Rhys introduces himself as Rhys Estrellas all the time and Sal is never safe again from mushy husband smooches. (Absolute duo tho to get accidentally married while drunk)

send me 💍 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they get married

At Eden's! Best place after all!

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

Sal threatens Rhys to gut him like he was if they get hitched in August so it ends up being in April since they always thought their wedding would have been a joke.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

No traditions! Rhys didn't want any and Sal wanted them too much.

what their wedding cake looks like

Boys absolutely get a chocolate galaxy cake to tease Sal but jokes on Rhys because Sal demands coffee cookies that are constellation themes.

….who smashes cake into whose face

Sal lil bastard baby does because more things to lick off Rhys ;)

who proposed to who first

Oh my god could you imagine Sal doing the "if you love me so much why don't you marry me?" And Rhys??? Said yes but then Sal got nervous and he got nervous and they just kinda...jumped in it together?? Flustered babies who end up checking on each other a lot to swe if this is what they really want (and Rhys does a corny proposal to make Sal blush in private skskk)

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Rhys walks down the aisle,,,well, runs down it to get to Sal, the moment he's wanted.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Sal,,,goes for something a little more formal and I think he has one of those eye masks that cover his upper face because he's drama and Rhys blows him away with his looks and star theme.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

Purple and black with a bit of white in the form of giant snowflakes that Sal has hung up as a motif for his precious mooni-kins.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

They have mainly night flowers like daturas, moonflowers, brugmansia, casa blanca lily and,,,,,I found out there was a flower called a bee orchid and as IF Rhys can't have that at his wedding???

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

Sal is flustered and he's scared but...he tells Rhys that he wants to give this a go, wants to be happier than his parents, the failing couples on tv...he wants a chance to be happy with Rhys and it's the scariest thing ever but...but he wants it and he wants to get it because Rhys is right about people like them deserving to be happy and Rhys....he deserves to be happy, more than anyone in the world.

Rhys...oh god the mush. Tells Sal that he adores him, that of course they deserve this because Sal is wonderful and beautiful and better than anyone he knows. He wants to make Sal happy and he damn well plans to do that, so long as he can hold Sal's hands, kiss his face, listen to his voice. He wants nothing more than a life with Sal and some chocolate for them to share in bed with nothing but their rings on.

if anyone’s late to the wedding

A few of Sal's friends since there was an issue with gifts.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Pretty much everyone from Eden! They're everyone Rhys and Sal need.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Cute and casual, something easy for everyone to move easily in.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Bex talks about his she's finally glad these sweet boys finally got together...and hopefully stay out of trouble now that they've gotten some problems solved aka stick to-fucking-gether. Some of Sal's closer friends like Tiff and Midas give embarrassing talks too.

who catches the bouquet( s )

Bex! Space parting mother deserves it!!

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

S O many oh my god of Rhys touching Sal in some way. Holding hands, hugging the back of each other, kissing each other's cheeks,,,in particular there's one where Sal undos Rhys's hair and pushing his hands through Rhys's hair while smooching away and other where he's taken off his upper mask to reveal smudged kissed makeup to hold the mask between them while they kiss.

what sort of food they have at the reception

A lot of bread stuff since Rhys knows Sal likes it but also stuff like burgers because they have good memories of little dates that weren't dates together.

who cries first during the ceremony

Rhys does but Sal cries just as much under the mask.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Oh for sure wild! Everyone starts drinking and doing practised and free dancing as well as using their powers to have a fun time.

what their rings are like

Sal's that bitch that preens because his ring is pretty and purple and it looks like he has two while Rhys for sure gets an expensive opal that Sal actually brought rather than stole off someone or picked out as a cheap hand out from his own pile.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

So much chocolate and wine but also,,,its eden. They get sex toys and lingerie mostly and Sal keeps some hidden as a surprise treat for later.

where they go for their honeymoon

Ohh I'm thinking some sort of cabin lake side? Somewhere where the boys really don't have to worry about anyone other than themselves and can be as loud as they want (and Rhys must now give his mushy vows he wrote about hiw much he wants Sal's dick and cute butt 😌 Sal brought three different gags for this)

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Everyone tries to get Rhys to make limbo sticks out of his shadows and Tif's powers relate to creating small bubbles of time so?? It turns out everyone partied through almost a day.

who officiates the ceremony

Bex does.

what song their first dance is to

Diamond's are a girl's best friend

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

Bex gives Rhys away.

[twistednuns]

November 2019

A spontaneous overnight trip to Salzburg with Lexi. The Austrian supermarket. Peach toilet paper. Way too many calories (Kaspressknödel, Spinatknödel, meringue with whipped cream...), a spa night at our hotel (sauna, steam bath, watching the neighbours in their fancy penthouse, selfie session with fruit), crisp sheets, the BEST Sunday breakfast, interesting exhibitions at the modern museum (items dipped in the Dead Sea so they'd crystalise; art to commemorate the moon landing).

Watching Un plus une with Jean Dujardin. It's set in India. They filmed in some of the exact spots I visited, too. Weirdly triggering. I loved learning about Amma, too. And the female lead in that moving is fascinating, too.

Alice Boman - Waiting / an old favourite I came across in Toni Collette's Wanderlust television series.

Combining sweet and savoury taste. The best snacks. Like my Nidar Smash substitute: eat some Bugles and a piece of milk chocolate at the same time. Basically the same thing. But obviously I appreciated the two bags Lena and Obi brought me from Norway!

A plant order from the Netherlands. Syngonium Clavinervium and Dragon Scale. I hope they won't die on me.

Lemon cola / apple flavoured lollies.

Taking a really good train selfie. And a second one using a butterfly wing lash filter. Gorgeous.

A sleepover at Lexi's place in Freising. Taking a long walk, trying to find mushrooms. Taking pictures of the sunset, walking along the river. A playground. Slipping in the mud with white trainers. Semmelknödel and creamy mushrooms at Huber Weisse. Pizza date. Sunday breakfast. King of Tokyo. Oh, and the Unstable Unicorns!

Borrowing the first Buffy seasons from Yanic.

Early morning subway thoughts at Odeonsplatz: "Gerade stieg ein Mann mit Weintrauben und Panzertape in die Ubahn. Ganz nach meinem Geschmack. Ein Romananfang?"

Schafkopf. Online via phone app and offline - with Lena, Obi and Frank at an actual Wirtshaus in Schwanthalerhöhe. I lost but gosh, I love card games.

First place at the pub quiz! For the first time ever. We won 167€... Well, the picture round was on celebrity cats so go figure. I love being the Natural 20s' substitute player.

Burlesque Night with Margit at Drehleiher (That unicorn costume? The Doomsday Stripper? Aurora Galore? OMG.) and late night shopping at Ostbahnhof dm.

Tapping on the unopened NYX opalescent jelly tub. Nice ASMR sounds.

Learning about tropical circles.

A super luminous sunrise on morning in all shades of yellow, orange, pink and red.

An extra big cup of unsweetened, chilled coffee to go. And the 1€ coffee they sell at my subway stop. I don't know what makes it so tasty. I've even started bringing my reusable mug again.

Listening to Loredana - a tip from my students; that's Deutschrap I can actually listen to. Occasionally...

Making a list with ten recommendations for female authors #autorinnenschuber

Finally responding to Lena's letter. Eight handwritten pages in red ink. Dramatic.

The scenes with the Twisted Sisters in Macbeth, as usual. This time in a graphic novel.

Reading about climate change, diet, toxic masculinity, consent.

Plum Tuxedo lipstick. A green cardigan. The Buffy T-shirt. A new necklace from &otherstories.

Opening a new box of coloured pencils. So pointy. Still in rainbow formation. Yesss.

Playing DrawSomething with Lexi. She's really good at spot-on verbal and visual communication, especially when it comes to out-of-the-box thinking.

Sweet and savoury waffles at bean batter with Lena.

Memes. Talking cat videos.

Being so engrossed in a trashy YA book (the Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy...) that I missed my stop one morning on my way to school.

TEDxTUM - unfortunately not as interesting as it could and should have been. They addressed important topics but they only talked about the surface of the issues and frankly I just didn't like most of the speakers. Still a really great opportunity to learn about new ideas. I talked to the woman who works with mental health issues; perhaps we can get her to work for PI Munich to offer teacher training there.

Marks recommending The Power of Now by Eckart Tolle to me. He's 16. He actually read a book. That book. Ha.

Sash making pasta, bruschetta and sugared lemony oranges for us as a b-day dinner. Lena and Obi picking me up because #MVVapocalypse

Frank trying to cheer me up by inviting me over to bake cookies and drink spiked tea (I actually had spiked cocoa with rum). Which didn't entirely help and didn't prevent me from being a bitch either but was a nice enough gesture.

Discussing important stuff with Jonathan. Real talk about being a victim of one's own feelings. Him opening up about that was actually quite nice because I often feel like I'm the only one having issues. Oh and I met his wife and son and he even showed me his apartment before we went to the workshop together.

Cooking, baking, making. Crisp bread, salad bowls, banana bread. Eating more greens, less trash. Shopping at the health food store more often. Actually lighting a candle (and almost burning down the house when I accidentally threw a piece of paper over the candle). Starting with yoga again, slowly. I feel so immobile and stiff. It's kinda scary how quickly your body loses its form and shape when you're having a hard time.

Having a super bad day (too much coffee on an empty stomach triggers my beast mode), being super depressed, lying awake at 2am. Starting to sing along to songs from the Grinch movie. So there IS something I still feel passionate about. My green spirit animal!

[all-hail-the-witcher]

blaze it bitches

in honor of weed day have this mess ______

ship: ralbertxweed

genre: the biggest load of crack to ever crack

warnings: weed juice, panera, there’s a shane madej quote, t h r e e quotes by Mr Michael Himself, uhhh, cowboys, oh mothman, general idiocy, and all credit for fruity pebbles to my good nugget mikey

words: 1041 it’s baddd yalll

editing: nope

_________

Race idly spun a pen on the counter, waiting for the clock to hit 10 so he could begin to close. He wasn't sure why he had chosen to work the closing shift at Panera. Pretty much no one came in after 9, especially on a Monday. Currently the only patrons were a group of annoying teenage girls more interested in taking snapchats than talking to each other, an elderly couple eating soup in the corner, and a high school age girl and boy sitting in a booth, eating nothing but bread and sweet tea, having an intense discussion about whales.

In essence, Race was bored out of his mind.

Until exactly 9:48 when Albert walked through the door, waving around two to go cups from starbucks. “Raaaaceeerrrrrrrr!” he sang awkwardly, tripping over his own feat and spilling a few drops of what looked like tea on the floor.

“Al get your high ass outta here,” Race sighed. “I’m workin and you’re just gonna bother me.”

“Butttt cupcakkkeeeee,” Albert whined. “I know how to get mothman!”

“Mothman ain’t real and neither am I,” Race muttered, taking the rag and wiping down the counter. “Now get outta here before Jack makes you.”

Albert sighed. “Least drink the tea I brought you?”

Race sighed, just wanting Albert to not get him fired for once. “Fine.”

Albert smirked.

“But then you have to go, alright?” Race said, holding the cup to his lips and taking a sip.

Albert plunged his hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of fruity pebbles, dropping several on the floor. “O-kayyy.”

Race made a face. “What's in this tea Al? It don't taste like nothin from starbucks.”

Al gave him a half smirk. “You like my weed juice?”

“Weed juice? Is this- you made tea out of weed?” Race looked at the paper cup first in shock and then in awe. “Wait, this is brilliant.”

“Course it is,” Albert proclaimed. “I invented it.” He reached his hand back into his pocket for more fruity pebbles. “Want some munchies?”

“Sure why not.” Race could slowly feel the affectionately named “weed juice” taking affect. Hopefully he wouldn’t break too many things while he was closing.

“Racer can you go kick out those teen- wait a second, what are you doing here Al?” Jack looked at Albert skeptically before wrinkling his nose up in disgust. “Alright I don't know which of you brought the grass but I can smell it and I’m not dealing with this tonight so I suggest you two get outta here before you accidentally explode the place.”

Albert’s eyes widened in excitement. “We can go hunting for mothman!” he exclaimed, looking at Race expectantly.

Well, he wasn't gonna remember this in the morning anyway so might as well. “Yeah!” Race agreed, throwing off his apron and hat and wailing them at Jack.

“Try not to get arrested!” Jack called after them, shaking his head.

Once outside, Albert led Race to his car and opened the trunk. “Okay so I figured it out! Mothman wont show us to himself cause we don't look like him so we gotta dress in his truest form.” He handed Race a cheap cowboy costume and a hat.

“Mothman’s a cowboy?”

“Duhhhhh,” Albert rolled his eyes. “Cowboys are the most most cryptic, and sos mothman! It’s how’s he’s stayed hidden all these years.”

Race nodded solemnly in agreement, hastily pulling the costume on over his clothes and jamming the hat on his head.

“Oh I only have one pair of boots though,” Albert frowned. “Guess we’ll have to share.”

Race frowned in agreement. “Oh!” he perked up. “I’ll wear one of your boots and you can wear one of my vans!”

“Yes!” Albert pulled one of Races shoes off of his foot, knocking him backwards. “Now we just gotta go to the spot!”

•••

“The spot” turned out to be behind a bush in a kids playground.

“Are you sure we’ll find mothman here?” Race asked, peeking through his dollar store binoculars at his dark surroundings.

“My sources say yes.”

“You have sources?” Race asked skeptically.

“Course.” Albert took a swig from his to go mug.

“Are you still drinkin that weed juice?”

“Nah.” Albert looked at the cup fondly. “It’s my munchies. I can taste the colors.”

Race leaned over. Munchies sounded good right now. “Can I have some?”

“No! My munchies!” Albert wrapped the cup protectively in his arms.

“I want!”

“No!”

“Give!”

“Quiet you’re gonna scare away mothman!”

Race shut up immediately. He didn’t want to scare away his cryptid friend. He had to film a tik tok video with him and become famous!

After ten minutes though, he couldn’t be silent any longer.

“I’m tired,” he whispered loudly. “When is mothman gonna get here?”

Albert knit his eyebrows together, considering while he chewed on a few red fruity pebbles. “Oh I know!” he exclaimed. “Let’s talk about stuff mothman would like so he knows we’re friends.”

Race was intrigued. “Like what?”

“Hmmm,” Albert pondered for a few minutes before beginning to rant. “Crickets are scary but rubbing your legs together under a blanket as such is nice so crickets made some points i guess.”

Race nodded in agreement. “And like,” he thought for a second. “Ok so whales slap. But also they’re big and they don’t need to be.”

“Whales are very cryptic,” Albert yawned. “And I guess no offense to anyone who actually likes them but kiwi birds are weird and why did they need a fruit named after them and why are they fuzzy and who gave the Fruits the right to be fuzzy like what the fuck- WAIT WHICH CAME FIRST THE BIRD OR THE FRUIT- god they’re as cryptic as whales.”

“That’s a good point.” Race laid back in the grass. “Maybe if we go to sleep mothman will show up to kiss us goodnight.”

“You’re so right!” Albert quickly joined Race in the grass. “I’m tired anyway. So this is like,” he pressed his lips together, thinking hard, “killing two birds with one egg.”

“Birds work for the government,” race muttered. “Night Albie.”

“Night racer.”

Race dozed off, dreaming of yodeling with mothman and getting verified on tik tok.

__________

okay look idk either if you wanna read actual good high ralbert shit go to @papesdontsellthemselves cause I basically just stole his brand (and his quotes) for this fic so

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list @fairly-awkward-trashcan @well-the-kids-do-too @racetrackcook @ughwaitwhat @aw-jus-let-em-try @tommy-s-s0cks @voice-foundshoe-lost @stopthe-presses @ridin-in-style @pinecovewoods @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @bencookisagod @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @stellar-alpaca @saxoph-ella @smolcanadiankid @disney-princess-sized @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @insane-tomato @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @have-we-got-news-for-you @thatfancyclam @myidkwhatmynameisblog @legoflambwrites @not-a-scam @albertdasillvaprotectionsquad @entschuldigung-bitches @thebroaaesthetic @tea-and-theater @seasickdolphin @auspicioustarantula @newsies-of-ny @mrs-higgins @sunshine-e-cigarettes  @spot-me50-papes @papesdontsellthemselves @deathcast-s @the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters @humanracoon @irondad-spiderson-duo @albert-eats-cookie-cake 

[fandomlife-giver]

Toxic Veins (Alucard x OC): Ch. 9

Warnings: Alcoholism, being drunk, language, talks of abuse

Pairings: Alucard x OC

@redryderdesigns

Word Count: 3223

“Walter, come on!” I was currently chasing around Hellsing’s butler, but no matter how many times I tried to speak to him, he would just ignore me. “Walter! Look, just hear me out!”

He sighed as he walked down the hall with his hands folded behind his back. “I’m sorry, miss Laurifer. I don’t see how hiring a group of mercenaries is going to help our situation.”

“Just stop and listen to me!” I ran in front of him, which forced him to stop.

“I understand you don’t want to hire men who are greedy and kill for money, but they get the job done with no questions asked. That is exactly what we need.”

He only frowned in response. “Hellsing is perfectly capable of-”

“Walter.” I have him a serious look. “Look me in the eye and tell me that there isn’t a problem here.”

He did look me in the eye, but slumped his shoulders, and continued to frown. “Why mercenaries?”

I shrugged. “I have my reasons.” He eyed me suspiciously, but I ignored it. “Anyways, Chet said he happens to know the leader of a mercenary group. He is open to negotiate.”

He quirked an eyebrow and moved to walk around me. “I’ll need a way of contacting him.” My hand shot out and he stopped inches away from the card inside of it.

He took it and glanced at me as I smirked. “That’s his card, also courtesy of Chet.”

He hummed and folded his arms behind his back as he walked away. “I assume you’ve already discussed this with Sir Integra.”

He glanced back as I grinned. “I was kinda hoping that you’d do that. You’re making the call, after all.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes” He kept walking, muttering under his breath.

I kept my grin and laughed softly to myself.

“You seem like you’re up to no good, as usual.” I turned and realized the voice was Chet as he lit his cigar and leaned against the wall.

I fake gasped. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just concerned for our citizens and for Hellsing, of course.”

He looked at me knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I walked closer and rested my elbow on his shoulder, then looked at him with a smug look.

He furrowed his brows and leaned back. “I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘Don’t-be-an-idiot, I-know-what-I’m-doing’ look.”

I patted his arm. “There ya go. Now you’re getting it.”

He shook his head and turned around the corner. But before he completely disappeared, he poked his head out. “Just watch out for the red death.”

What? “The red death?”

“Yeah.” He used to fingers and made them look like fangs as he slowly moved out of sight. “He vants to suck your blood!”

I shook my head at him as I put another match between my lips. “What a geek.”

“That’s not what I call him.”

I froze my movements and closed me eyes. “You gotta be kidding me.”

I felt arms come out from the wall and wrap around my waist.

He did not just do that. Chocula, you better remove yourself. Pronto.

His breath was on my neck. “I think 'chicken’ would fit better. I bet he tastes like it.”

My hands began tightening into fists. “Let go. Now.”

He only laughed. “It was a joke. No need to be so tense.” I felt his lips on my neck and the sharpness of his fangs peeking through. “Reminds me of this time back in Romania. Nica always loved this little bakery that sold sweet bread, it really calmed her nerves.”

Okay. That was it.

I stomped on his foot, then elbowed him with both elbows hard in the ribs. He finally let go, but I didn’t give him any time to think and spun around, removed my bloody rose and aimed it at his heart.

His eyes were wide. “Flower, what’s-”

“You need to understand something here. I am not your wife. I am nothing like her. My blood is my only relation, and you will stop treating me as something I am not. I am not Nica. I am Phyre, goddammit.”

I was beyond angry. I had finally snapped and it took everything not to pull the trigger. He was just staring at me.

“Phyre-”

“Get it through your head. I am done trying to please everyone. I am done with being everybody’s personal toy. I am done!!”

“Phyre!”

Ugh, what now?!

I looked behind me and saw Integra, staring at me while Walter stood behind her with a surprised look.

“Put down the gun, Phyre. It’s okay now. Just…Just put down the gun.”

For a good minute, I didn’t even move. But eventually, my arm got tired and I dropped it. I stepped back and wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Before I could, though, Integra had placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

“You know that part of you is over now. You are okay, right?”

I was glaring at her. I didn’t even want to, but I just needed to glare at something right now. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

I pushed her hands off and stepped away, but then glanced at Chocula. “Keep him away from me. The last thing I need is to be compared to her for the hundredth time.”

Integra watched me walk away with concern sketched on her face. Her jaw clenched as she turned to glare at Alucard in anger.

“I told you to leave her be. I don’t care anymore about her resembling her ancestor. You’ve gone too far now. You will act as what you are– her co-worker. Do you understand?”

He casted his head down and only walked back through the wall.

Yes. I understand perfectly.

°°°

Walter knocked on the door, but he only received silence in response. “Miss Laurifer? Are you in there?”

He knocked again, but I only continued to stare at the object in my hand. “Miss Laurifer? I’m coming in.”

The door opened and it shut seconds after. His feet tread over to the side of the bed.

“Sir Integra wished for me to check on you. I made you your favorite and brought you some red velvet cookies.”

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw him place a plate on my nightstand. I didn’t even bother glancing at it.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

I never answered him or even looked at him for that matter. Instead, I showed him the picture in my hand. He took it as I looked to the side and picked up my glass of whiskey. I drank what was left of it in one gulp and finally looked up to see his gaze at the picture.

“You know who that is?”

He looked at me hesitantly. “Is it safe to say so out loud?”

I have him a look and shrugged. “Why not? Go ahead.”

He sighed and placed the picture beside the plate. “It’s your ancestor. Nica Manchester, I believe.”

I slowly nodded and pursed my lips. “22 years and I still haven’t gotten used to hearing that name. You wanna know what the priests said to me on my first day at the monastery after I left here?”

I dryly laughed. “They said…'You are the reincarnation of a hero. You need to understand the importance of living as the extension of Nica Manchester.’ ”

“Miss Laurifer…”

“I never got a say in it. You know what the Vatican, the church, and the Iscariot know me by? 'The sacred jewel’, or 'The Manchester legacy’, or even 'The secret weapon’.”

I hadn’t realized it, but my arm had decided the bottle was a bitch and threw it against the wall. My legs were like noodles as they tried to stand up, but Walter just had to push me down!

“They only see me as leverage or useful to a last resort. Just because I look like her, they don’t even call me by my name. No. They don’t have a goddamn clue! Well, understand this, you tell fang boy that I am not that washed up hoax! My name is Phyre Cedrica Laurifer! I will not be known as something that I am not!”

“Phyre. Please.”

Huh? I turned my head and realized that I was being hugged by Integra. Walter stood behind her, gazing at me in concern while Integra was looking at my face in fear.

“Stop. Phyre, stop.”

Walter sighed. “I don’t know if this will change anything…but, Miss Laurifer, you must understand something. Alucard is not someone who would throw himself at just anyone. It isn’t only Miss Manchester he cares about, but he has grown protective over you. All he wants is for you to know how much you mean to him.”

My hands clenched as I gave a forced smile. “Oh really?” I reached over and opened the drawer, then held up a ring. “Tell me the truth then, Walter. You’ve known him longer than all of us here. If he saw this…if I gave it to him…how fast would he start treating me like everyone else here?”

He went silent as he stared at the ring and I chuckled.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

I slammed the ring on the table, then grabbed a cookie and rolled over to cover myself with the sheets.

“Get out.”

Silence stayed in the room from them both as Integra stood from the bed, footsteps were heard, then the door shut.

Finally…

And it was then that my tears were free to fall without anyone seeing.

ALUCARD

Why would she just shut me out like that? She pulled a weapon on me. Could she honestly be that angry with me?

My thoughts were racing through my mind as I tapped my fingers on the glass of wine in my hand.

“Walter. Phyre talks to you, why is she so angry at me? Have I not been giving her enough attention?”

He had to stop his current action of polishing my shoes to look up at me as if I were stupid.

“No, I don’t believe that’s why. Frankly, I think it’s the exact opposite.”

My brows scrunched together. “I’ve been giving her too much? She seemed to enjoy it. Maybe I shall give her a bouquet of red roses. Nica always forgave me if I had some for her.”

I looked back to Walter as he stood up and looked at me in a bit of frustration. “You are missing the point here, Alucard. Miss Laurifer is very keen on who she is and doesn’t take lightly to being compared to others. Being constantly compared to Miss Manchester makes Miss Laurifer upset. Around her, Miss Manchester is a very sensitive topic and it has been since she was a child. Sir Integra and I try to stay away from talking about it to avoid Miss Laurifer having an episode. I’m sorry for speaking so boldly, but sir, Phyre absolutely loathes your dead wife because she has always felt threatened by her.”

For the longest time, I sat there staring at him. Finally, I stood up, chuckling.

“That’s ridiculous. Walter, why would Phyre feel threatened by Nica?”

Walter frowned as he turned and placed the polished shoes on a table. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to reveal anything more.”

“Walter” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Please. I need to know.”

After a moment, he sighed and turned around. “And what exactly do you need to know?”

I removed my hat and looked him in the eye. “Everything. Walter, tell me everything about Phyre.”

° ° °

PHYRE

Seras nervously gulped as she reached for the handle on the door. She glanced behind her. “Um, why exactly do I have to do this?”

Integra shrugged as Walter lit her cigar. “Because unlike us, you aren’t human. If she decides to fire at anyone, our safe bet would be you.”

Seras was looking at them as if they were kidding, but once she realized they were dead serious, she sighed and turned back to the door. With a turn of the wrist and a push, the door creaked open.

“Phyr-”

*bang*

Seras jumped back in surprise and looked over at the hole in the wall that was just beside her head.

I sucked my teeth as I let my arm drop to the side. “Damn. I missed…”

Vampy stepped further inside and looked at the hole, then at me with wide eyes. “You…Did you just shoot at me?”

I scoffed as I waved a hand at her. “Relax, I was aiming for the peephole.” I frowned as I rose the whiskey bottle to my lips. “You just got in the way.”

She turned back to grumpy and Walty, but they were already shutting the door.

“You come here…to talk, Seras?” I looked at the bottle in fascination as she slowly moved closer to me. “Or…did they send you in here?”

She nervously looked down at my bloody rose in my hand. “Um…Phyre, can you please put down the gun?”

Raising my eyebrows, my eyes looked to the pistol, then to her. “Yeah…sure, Seras.” I threw it on the bed and she sighed in relief.

That was, until I pulled out my sharp knives and twirled then around my fingers. She tensed up again.

Swallowing her fear, she took a breath and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Phyre, I understand why you’re upset. Do you want to talk about it? I’m here if you need me.”

I barely acknowledged her hand as I sucked my teeth and stood up. “You know, I’m not really in the talking, touchy-feely kind of mood right now. I’m more in the, uh, drink until I can’t remember anything from last night kind of mood.”

I smiled at her as I put the bottle to my lips. I barely got a gulp until she snatched it from my hands, sniffed it, and placed it on the nightstand.

“Come on, Phyre. You’re drunk.”

“Pft! Ha!” A snort of laughter came from me. “I’m not drunk! You’re drunk! Hell, everybody’s drunk!” I wobbled over to where I saw the bottle.

“I’m…I’m…perfectly….so…sober!”

She placed her hands on my shoulders to stop me in place and looked at me with determination. “Oh yeah? What’s the capital of Sweden?”

I stared at her, then leaned in. “Ha! You think I would know that anyways?”

She sighed. “Phyre, I know you’re mad at master, but getting drunk won’t solve anythi-”

“That’s what you think!” My voice had a bit of sass to it. “Every time my mother, father, and or brother would beat me, I’d steal one of their beers to help with the pain! Worked like a charrrrrm! Whenever everybody expected too much of me or even forgot my name, I’d go out to a pub and drink! Helped with that pain, too! And now, after being played and humiliated and…and deceived! By someone who I actually…I actually cared for… by tomorrow morning, I won’t remember a thing!”

With my arms spread out, I let out a chortled laugh and fell back against the bed. I was already beginning to get sober, and I hated it. I knew she was staring at me, with that same stupid face of concern Integra and Walter had.

“Phyre…I didn’t…I didn’t know that-”

“Why would you? You just got here. The only ones who know are Walter and Integra. But I guess you had to know sooner or later.”

Damn it. I felt wet tears slowly drizzle from my eyes and I had to blink them back. Sniffling, I sat up and pushed myself off the bed. I picked up my pistols and snatched my magenta coat. She stood and followed me as I opened the door and slipped my arms inside the coat while fast walking down the hall.

Walter and Integra looked up from where they were standing as I passed by them. “You know, next time, don’t send someone I barely know to solve your problems.”

They looked at each other, before Integra ran after me. “Phyre!”

“The mercs should be here in a few minutes. We don’t have time for your bromance moment. Drop it, Integra.”

Yeah, she didn’t drop it.

She did, however, grab my arm and make me turn around, even when I pulled out of her grasp. “Damn it. Phyre, listen. Walter had a talk with Alucard.”

My jaw tightened and my cold gaze went behind her where Walter stood a good distance away. “Really? And what did Walter say?”

Walter swallowed back whatever fear he had. “Miss Laurifer, I do hope you’ll understand. Alucard wished I told him all of your past.”

My eyes narrowed as I stepped closer to him, straightening my shoulders. “And did you?”

He sighed as he briefly closed his eyes. “Please understand. He was very lost on why you are angered with hi-”

“That didn’t give you a right to tell him anything!” I didn’t even know why I was yelling, I didn’t really feel that angry anymore.

So, instead of standing there to scream in his face, I huffed and turned around. Integra was still calling after me, and the more she did, the more I grew less and less angry. More sober, for one. The emotion was replaced with determination.

Damn it, Phyre. Now is not the time to be a drama queen. Chocula should be the last thing on your mind.

I halted my steps as we reached the doors where the Mercs were arriving. And with a deep breath, I turned around. Integra also stopped a few feet away with Walter trying to stay as much out of it as he could.

Rubbing my neck, I looked her in the eyes. “Integra. What is happening between Alucard and I is none of your business. Look, we have more important things that need our attention. So, please, can you just stop? We have a job to do.”

I tensed when she narrowed her eyes and continued to stare at me.

“You’re both ridiculous. You’d think two people who lived the same childhood would understand each other more than anyone.”

My eyebrows furrowed. The hell she talking about?

“What do you mean by that?”

She folded her arms and stalked closer to me. “You aren’t the only one that’s ever been misunderstood. Stop acting like a child and learn exactly what you are putting your hate towards before you blame things of the past on what you don’t even know.”

W-what…?

And with that, she pushed passed me, leaving me to stare after her in realization.

“Since you’re so independent, I’ll leave these mercenaries to you. I’ll be in my office, anything happens, tell me.”

She opened the doors and walked through, and only when they shut behind her, did I break out of my trance.

I looked over at Walter, who made a move to turn and walk away. “Wait, Walter!”

I made out his frustrated sigh, before he turned around. “Yes, what is it, Miss Laurifer?”

"What can you tell me about Vlad Tepes?"

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Volcano (Girls Talk Boys part 22)

And I'll ask for what I give to you Is just what I'm going through This is nothing new No no just another phase of finding what I really need

What I am to you is not real What I am to you you do not need What I am to you is not what you mean to me You give me miles and miles of mountains And I'll ask for the sea 

“So wait what happened in the grocery store?” Camille giggling at Cher who was getting more annoyed.

It was after 1 am and Cher, unable to sleep, had heard footsteps upstairs. Hoping it was Camille she shot her a text that was just a wine glass emoji. Minutes later Camille had come down. Her hair absolutely wrecked pulling on her burnt orange Texas longhorns oversized cut off sweatshirt over a black sports bra and boy shorts.

“I'm telling you he was fucking with me. He kept touching me and then pretending it didn't happen. He'd say something slick and then give me the most innocent look.” Cher was getting louder with irritation as she continued.

“Ashton can pull off many looks, innocent is not one of them.” Camille chuckled. “ Also stop being so loud before you wake up Calum. He finally went to sleep.”

“You make him sound like a toddler.” Cher had to grin.

“He's cranky when he's tired. Besides he'll want me to come back upstairs. So ok maybe Ashton was flirting. He's clearly attracted to you.” Camille winked at her.

“So attracted to me that he wants to play this game and not actually have sex with me.” Cher huffed.

“Do you want him to stop?” Camille looked at her over her wine glass.

“Fuck NO but what is he waiting for” Cher was frustrated but still smiling.

“Maybe he wants to take it slow. Maybe it'll be better that way.” Camille teased her.

“Says the girl who spent three days riding dick like she was racing for the win in the Kentucky Derby.” Cher retorted smiling as she reached for her phone. “Look what he sent me when he got home.”

“You were such a good girl for me today kitten. Look what it did to me.” Ashton's voice was muffled until Cher turned the phone towards her.

“Oh my God that's a penis.” Camille's eyes went wide and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Good Lord how big IS he?” Camille turned away but snuck another quick peek.

“I thought you knew. You are the one who spent the night in bed with him.” Cher teased. “You mean all those FaceTimes and you never got to see it?”

“Be serious. On Face Time we talked about everything except sex. I've heard the rumors but no the Snapchat sex we left to you and Luke. Halloween aka the night you defiled Spongebob I was drunk and crying, Ashton had enough sense not to flash his cock around. On sure in the morning I could see his bulge was big but not like the one eyed monster I just saw winking at me.” Camille snorted.

“I'm tempted to go over there and just jump him when he answers the door.” Cher opened the fridge picking at leftovers.

“That won't work” Camille told her dryly.

“You think I don't know that?” Cher replied.

“Why are you pouting? Hasn't he gotten you off twice now?” Camille pointed out trying not to grin at the glare she received.

“It's not the same bitch, you know that, don't play.” Cher tried to look menacing but she was still smiling.

“What about all the other times? He brought you lunch the other day. Last week y'all huddled up on the couch catching up on Shameless. He's been over quite a bit lately. Nothing is happening at all?” Camille asked.

“Oh sure, he gives me little kisses, rubs my neck or smacks my ass but he never takes it any further.” Cher told her.

A groan interrupted them and they both looked at her phone and burst out laughing.

“Why is this video still playing? I don't need to hear such filth.” Camille pretended to look shocked. “Besides Calum will murder all of us if I'm sitting here watching Ashton jerk off.”

Cher finally found the snack she wanted. Grabbing a plate she put the remainder of a baked brie cheese down along with some grapes. She rummaged through the cabinets.

“Your boyfriend is cute when he's jealous. We're out of the fancy white lady crackers. Do you want Triscuits or Ritz?”

“Calum isn't my boyfriend. Grab both I can't make up my mind.” Cher set the food down as Camille continued. “We're officially dating, but that's as far as that goes.”

“You're so full of shit Cam. He stole the show at dinner. I got choked up. I thought Lucy was going to faint. You guys really are adorable.”

Camille's cheeks flamed as she concentrated on chewing not wanting to answer.

Cher popped a grape in her mouth. “I think he really likes you. More than you think.”

“We'll see. Let's see where we are in January.” Camille refilled her wine.

“Are you really that worried? Everything has been great so far.” Cher knew the answer but she was trying to be reassuring.

“This is a nightmare. Calum is flying across the world. At the same time you know who will be there as well.” Cher started to interrupt but Camille stopped her. “No I don't really believe he'd do that. There's just this little voice in the back of my brain that won't shut the fuck up. Whispering at me ‘rebound’ ‘'groupie’ and I'm trying so hard not to listen.”

“The smartest person I know told me not to worry about what other people do because you can't control that. Now are you going to cheer up or do I have to show you Ashton's dick again?”

“Ashton?” Camille smirked snapping out of it. “Don't you mean Daddy?”

“Don't you start too” Cher rolled her eyes.

“Admit it. You think it's hot. I think it's hot,” Camille poked her side making her jump.

“You gonna call Calum daddy now? Does Calum have any kinks?”

“I couldn't call him that. Not with a straight face. I don't know if Calum has any kinks. He's never said anything.” Camille shrugged.

“Come on he has to be into something freaky. I couldn't see him being a sub. He's too dark and mysterious for all that.” Cher mused.

“Save it for your novel. It's bad enough you made Calum king of your sex demons”

“Energy vampires”

“Whatever”

“And it's not Calum it's Calthazar thank you very much. Maybe I'll make his kink being loud as hell during sex” Cher teased and Camille blushed.

“I bought you new headphones and I'm not that loud anymore.” A deep gravelly voice traveled through the kitchen. Cam and Cher  jumped and turned as he entered the kitchen. Both girls caught their breath at the sight of a freshly rolled out of bed Cal wearing nothing but Camille's grey basketball shorts.

“Did we wake you up babe?” Camille kissed his cheek as he sat down next to her at the bar giving her a sleepy smile.

“Nah, woke up to piss, realized you were gone. I heard voices and thought I'd see what you hens were cackling about. D'you mind if I get a drink?” Cal asked them.

“Whatcha need C-swizz?” Cher turned towards the fridge. “Water, tea, wine?”

“She's got me into sweet tea lately so that sounds good.” Calum responded. “So what were you ladies chatting about this late?”

Camille was too distracted playing with his hair to answer. Cher came to the bar sliding Cal a glass of sweet tea and a plate with some cookies and two slices of Cam's zucchini bread.

“We were talking about Ashton and his bullshit and whether you had any kinks” Cher shot him an evil grin as he almost choked at her words.

Camille yelped but Cher continued “and I accidentally showed her Ashton's penis. That was my fault don't be mad at her for it.”

“I'm not mad” he chuckled then turned to Camille who was looking at the floor.

Calum's brow furrowed when he lifted her chin so her eyes met his and he saw genuine worry. “Darling I'm not mad. I promise.” He winked at her and smiled. “As long as mine is the only one you're touching” he said before closing in for a kiss.

“Before you two start sucking face you haven't answered my question. Are you kinky like Ashton?” Cher demanded.

Calum broke away from Camille both of them laughing. He turned to Cher.

“None of us are kinky like Ashton” Calum told her. “Ashton has the wild side, Michael too from what I've heard.”

“So what you're saying is you are as vanilla as Camille.” Cher was teasing him again.

Calum looked at Camille “are you ok with me talking about this here?”

Camille nodded “she's the freak in the sheets around here.  Anything kinky you're into I'd probably have to ask her about anyways.”

Calum shrugged “ok then. I'm kind of into pain during sex.” He looked at Camille “ when you pull my hair when I'm going down on you. That turns me on so much.”

Camille blushed deeper and crossed her legs.

Calum continued “I've always seen the candle wax in movies and it looks dangerous but I've always wondered what it would be like.”

Camille was too surprised to know what to say. Cher saw her expression and laughed. “Great Calum now you've given her a project. She's gonna look into this. Are either of you gonna finish this?”

Camille shook her head and yawned. “No but save that bit of brie. I'll make a sandwich tomorrow.”

“Cher if you don't mind I'm gonna steal my girl back from you.” Calum nuzzled into Camille's neck. “I only have two weeks to get in all the snuggles I can before I gotta leave.”

“I'll clean up and roll a blunt before I go to bed. Make sure you pull his hair good Camille now that you know he likes it.” Cher called out as Calum threw Camille over his shoulder and carried her upstairs and back to bed.

Calum tossed her onto the bed. Pulling her sweatshirt over her head he turned his attention to her shorts. He toyed with the waistband as he landed countless featherlight kisses on her belly. Looking up at her with a smirk he eased her shorts slowly down past her hips and legs until he tossed them aside. He parted Camille's thighs and as he moved his head between them he grinned up at her “Let's play a game. Guess what I'm spelling.”

To her credit Camille got to ‘I'm going to miss you’ before she stopped trying and just lost herself on Calum's tongue.

Two days later Calum and Ashton surprised the girls with Christmas tree for the living room.

“I was going to get a real one but I wasn't sure with your allergies.” Calum told Camille.

“I talked him out of the pink tree” Ashton told them.

“He thinks he did” Calum dug into the shopping bag pulling out a box containing a 18 inch pre lit pink Christmas tree. “I thought you could put it in your studio.”

“That is the cutest thing, thank you” Camille gave him a kiss. Calum responded by pulling her closer to him.

“I'd tell you two to get a room but you'd just go upstairs and leave us with all the work.” Ashton cracked. “They're gonna be insufferable until me leave aren't they?”

“When are they not?” Cher laughed jumping when Ashton landed a smack on her ass. “You guys didn't get any decorations? Just the tree?”

“We didn't know what you'd like doll.” Ashton shrugged.

“Alright then let's go get some” Camille grabbed her keys. Calum grabbed his jacket and helped her into hers.

“You two have fun” Ashton winked.

“Not a chance Irwin. You two are coming along. Who knows what y'all would get up to if we left you alone.” Camille motioned for them to follow her.

They spent two hours shopping. As soon as they'd walked in the door Ashton had found a display of Christmas headbands. He'd made Camille an elf, Cher and Cal were reindeer and Ashton was Santa. They playfully argued over which ornaments to get. The boys used wrapping paper to sword fight until an employee gave them a dirty look. Calum kept sticking bows on Camille. Ashton and Cher decided that since Camille had a little pink tree Cher needed one too. All they could find were white and green trees so Ashton snagged a white and a green one .

“Why are you getting two?” Calum asked him.

“One for her and one for me. See who's tree comes out better.” Ashton replied.

“Sounds like a challenge” Calum grabbed the last tree.

Ashton decided to get spray paint so they could have different color trees. Then they checked out and headed to the craft store to find decorations for their tiny trees.

When they got back Camille ordered pizza, then put her favorite Pentatonix Christmas albums on shuffle as Ashton gathered up what he needed to paint the trees.

Cher and Calum busied themselves putting the tree up,  getting out the decorations and playing with Duke.

By the time the pizza arrived Ashton had sprayed the two trees. Cher's was light blue gradiating to dark teal and Cal's was candy apple red.

They divided up the work on the big tree. Cal hung the lights, Cher strung the garland and tinsel, Camille put the ornaments on hooks and she and Ashton put them on the tree. It was no time at all before Cal was putting the star on the tree. Camille popped some cookies in the oven as the Christmas tree decorating competition commenced. They had really scoured the beads and charms section in the craft store to find some unique ornaments.

Well all of them except Ashton. His tree was very traditional. Pine green with multi color lights and fake snow dusting the branches with a white felt tree skirt dusted with green and red glitter. His tree was loaded with colorful balls, dewdrop and snowflake ornaments. His tree looked like an alpine mountain Christmas.

Cher had taken her tree down by the sea. The tree skirt was burlap and the ornaments were primarily blue, green and purple fish with a smattering of starfish and seahorse blown glass beads. She'd strung mini seashells over clear glass lights to make them glow. She glued two sand dollars to the top branch for a tree topper.

Camille had her pink tree decorated with little footballs and helmets. White metal musical notes, castles, books and a handful of C's hung over sparingly used silver tinsel. Topped with a tiny silver heart and wrapped in pink tulle around the bottom it was adorable.

Calum's tree was rock and roll. Silver motorcycle charms and guitars mixed in with black metal musical notes, dog silhouettes and C's hung next to white lights. The tree skirt was black velvet and he put a heart identical to Camille's tree but in black as his topper.  

By the time they all finished and declared Cher the winner it was past midnight. The girls decided they should all have a slumber party. The boys made a cushion fort. Camille blew up an air mattress and Cher drug her mattress off her bed. They all settled in. Ashton was lying top to tail next to Cher and Calum made the big spoon around Camille. No sex that night just friendship and cuddles.

Camille couldn't believe it was already here. The days had flown by and now Calum had to leave. Camille walked him downstairs. He was holding Duke under one arm and the other wrapped around her. He'd already put his luggage by her front door so he didn't have to waste any time that morning. Cher woke up and wandered out to give Calum a goodbye hug. Ashton knocked on the door. Cher answered and found her face between his large hands as he kissed her.

“I'm gonna miss you kitten. If you're good while I'm away Daddy will have something special when he gets home.” Ashton murmured in her ear. Cher went to kiss him again and this time he didn't pull away. He lost himself in the kiss hoping she'd still want him when he returned.

Calum finally let go of Camille giving her one last kiss and scratching Duke behind the ears. He promised he'd call her as soon as he could. Ashton walked with him in silence out to the van. He pretended not to hear Cal's tiny sniffle or see the tear he wiped away. They turned back one last time and the girls were standing in the door waving goodbye and Camille had Duke's little paw waving too. Calum almost lost it right there. He was thrilled to see his family again, but spending a month away already hurt.

@biba3434 @happycrimiscalum @babygirlcashton @slimthicccal @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @vfdsstuff