#honestly they’re a minefield

[rustbeltjessie]

I found this—a bio from my LiveJournal profile, c. late 2003–while looking through some old files on my computer, searching for something else. I normally save this type of content for my side blog but I had to share this one here because it’s such a perfect summation of who I was (or at least what my persona was) at the time.

And to be honest? Other than the fact that I no longer exclusively use she/her pronouns, and no longer have enough confidence to say I have ruthless sex appeal? …Not much has changed.

[brunchable]

Super Uncle Bucky || Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Uncle Bucky Barnes x Auntie reader.

Themes: Chaotic humor, Babysitter Bucky

Summary: Bucky, out of his element, struggles to handle three mischievous kids who put him through a chaotic tea party, leaving him covered in stickers and glitter as you laugh and document his defeat.

A/N: You guys are just eating up my Bucky oneshots with kids so here's another one.

"Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. . ."

Bucky stood in the middle of the living room, his once immaculate hair now a wild mess of tangled locks. His shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, while toy cars, Legos, and what appeared to be mashed-up cookie crumbs surrounded his feet. His metal arm gleamed brightly in the overhead lights, decorated with an assortment of glittery stickers — unicorns, dinosaurs, and rainbows — courtesy of the tiny hands that had attacked him earlier.

A cacophony of laughter and squeals filled the room as three tiny terrors, dressed in various superhero costumes, ran around him in circles. Bucky’s gaze shifted from one child to the next, his brow furrowed as if he was assessing a battlefield — and, honestly, this might be more dangerous than any fight he’d faced.

One of the kids, Chloe, with braids and sparkling blue eyes, clambered up onto the couch, raising her arms in victory like she’d just conquered Everest. 

“You can’t escape, Uncle Bucky!” she declared proudly, giggling uncontrollably as Bucky tried to carefully pick his way through the minefield of toys.

Another child, Chase, with a Captain America shield as big as he was, lunged at Bucky’s leg. 

“Gotcha! You’re under arrest for being grumpy!” he shouted, his voice filled with the determination only a five-year-old could muster.

Bucky sighed deeply, glancing at the living room monitor cam with a look that screamed, Send help.

— Two Hours Earlier —

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked, hovering by the front door with an amused smile tugging at your lips. “I can always call Nat—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’ve faced HYDRA agents, alien invasions, and Steve’s 1940s music tastes. I think I can handle a few kids.”

“Three kids,” you corrected with a grin. “Under the age of six. And they all think you’re ‘Super Uncle Bucky.’”

He smirked, crossing his arms confidently. “Piece of cake.”

With a lingering, somewhat skeptical glance, you blew him a kiss and slipped out the door, promising to be back in a couple of hours. Bucky watched you leave, his smile fading slightly as a sudden sense of unease crept up his spine.

“They’re just kids,” he muttered to himself. “How bad can it be?”

He turned around—three sets of wide eyes stared up at him, glinting with mischief. The youngest, Charlie, barely two years old, clutched a half-eaten cookie, crumbs tumbling down his chubby cheeks.

“Are you gonna fight monsters with us, Uncle Bucky? OH! Can I make your left arm look pretty?” Chloe asked sweetly, holding up a toy sword.

Bucky blinked, glancing at the sword, the cookie, and the Captain America shield in the Chase's hands.

“Uh...”

“Roar!” Charlie suddenly screeched, charging at his leg.

“Or... tea party?” Chloe suggested, a sparkly tiara slipping over her eyes.

Bucky let out a breath. “Yeah, sure. Tea party sounds—"

Chase threw his shield at Bucky's head with surprising force. “I wanna fight!”

“Tea party!” Chloe insisted.

“Bear hug!” Charlie latched onto Bucky’s leg like a tiny Hulk.

Oh boy.

— Present —

One of the children tugged on his pants, drawing his attention. Bucky looked down to see the youngest of the group — a chubby-cheeked little boy with a tuft of dark hair and bright green eyes, holding up a stuffed bear.

“Bucky bear!” he squealed, thrusting the toy up at Bucky’s face. “Hug!”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Bucky said, gingerly accepting the plush bear and giving it an awkward pat on the head. The boy beamed up at him, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s less-than-stellar performance.

“Uncle Bucky!” Chloe on the couch shouted, bouncing excitedly. “Can we play tea party now?”

“Uh…” Bucky hesitated, looking around the chaos of the room. “Tea party sounds…calm?”

“Yeah, yeah! But you gotta dress up!” she insisted, hopping off the couch and rummaging through a pink box that looked suspiciously like it belonged in your closet. She pulled out a lacy bonnet and shoved it in Bucky’s direction. “Put this on.”

Before Bucky could even think to protest, the other two kids joined in, eagerly shoving various frilly and sparkly accessories at him. With a resigned sigh, Bucky crouched down, letting the kids pile hats, scarves, and bracelets onto him until he looked like a very unfortunate cross between a Victorian-era duchess and a Mardi Gras parade float.

“Uncle Bucky is so pretty!” Chase declared, clapping his hands in delight.

Bucky glanced at his reflection in the living room mirror, nearly did a double-take, and then grimaced. He looked like a walking nightmare in pink.

Maybe the super-soldier serum could help me survive this, he thought wryly.

“Okay, tea party it is,” he muttered, his dignity hanging by a very thin thread.

— Thirty Minutes Later —

Bucky sat crammed into a child-sized plastic chair, his knees nearly touching his chest, as he held a tiny teacup between his fingers. The kids sat around him in a semi-circle, their eyes bright with excitement.

“Would you like some more tea, Your Highness?” Chloe asked in her best impression of a British accent.

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said solemnly, holding out his teacup. Chase with the Captain America shield delicately poured imaginary tea from an empty plastic teapot, his face set in serious concentration.

“You know,” Bucky mused, taking a pretend sip, “you kids aren’t so bad.”

That’s when the tea toy kettle started “whistling.”

Confused, Bucky turned his head — and was promptly doused with water as one of the boys squeezed the kettle’s handle, a gleeful grin on his face.

Bucky sputtered, wiping water off his face, and the room fell silent. Three pairs of wide, innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting to see how he would react.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh, you little punks are so going down.”

What followed was a blur of tickle attacks, high-pitched giggles, and Bucky chasing the kids around the room with his “super-speed” (read: exaggerated slow-motion running while the kids darted around him like over-caffeinated squirrels). By the time you returned, Bucky was pinned to the ground by three wriggling bodies, all of them shrieking with laughter.

You leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow, trying — and failing — to suppress a grin. “Having fun?”

Bucky looked up at you, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, his face smeared with cookie crumbs, his shirt a sticky mess of juice stains, and his metal arm glinting with a rainbow of unicorn stickers. To top it all off, a frilly pink bonnet sat crookedly on his head, held in place by a giant bow under his chin.

“Oh, you know,” he drawled, deadpan. “Just living the dream.”

You snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you’ve been to war.”

“Worse.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, showing off chipped, glittery nail polish on his fingers. “I’ve been to a tea party.”

You burst into laughter, doubling over as the kids cheered triumphantly. “I’m getting the camera. No way we’re not documenting this.”

“Wait, no—” Bucky tried to stand up, but a small hand grabbed his bonnet’s bow, yanking him back down with surprising force.

“No escape, Uncle Bucky!” Chloe squealed, and the other two chanted, “More tea! More tea!”

Bucky slumped in defeat, sending you a pleading look.

But you were already gone, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall.

He sighed deeply, glancing at the trio of tiny humans who had somehow become his overlords. Chloe climbed onto his back, using him like a jungle gym. “Uncle Bucky, it’s time for the royal dance now!”

Chase picked up a feathered boa and tossed it around Bucky’s shoulders. “And you have to wear this!”

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. “Yeah… maybe I did have it easier fighting HYDRA.”

[love-that-we-were-in]

the harder the pain, the sweeter the sun

the aftermath of Luke's quest. or the consequences of not being a hero.

a/n: hello i didn't mean to be so sad on my entrance but we move! have fun (i'm so sorry)

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as he steps back across Camp Half-Bloods borders. There’s still the same mill of activity, archery and pegasi and swords grating against one another. Everything is exactly as it was when he left. Some people notice him as he makes his way towards his cabin - they don’t make small talk, what’s the point of that when he’s not the hero returned. His scar, still fresh, still raised and red across his face, feels heavy. It’s almost a beacon; a guiding light towards his failure. No one comments but he can feel it, the shift in energy as he walks past each cabin. Pity for the son of Hermes. 

His bunk is untouched. 

Collapsing onto the sheets, he glances around the space. It’s only him here, faced with his own reckoning and renown. His bunk is untouched but there’s two abandoned opposite, a careful stack of belongings at the end of each. Before dinner, he’ll change those sheets. He’ll pack Cora and Eric’s belongings into a box to stow away in the big house, amongst a dozen others he’s left there over the years, and he’ll burn shrouds to them with his campmates in the evening. 

Luke wonders, as he takes in the makeshift beds on the floor, if it was even worth coming back at all. 

Everyone moves on. Within days, there’s barely a mention of either of his quest companions. Both of them were unclaimed, watching their lives tick by in the two years he’d known them with little idea of who they were. The Stoll twins were given their beds upon their arrival at camp two days after he returned. They had been claimed, sent in the right direction by Hermes himself, and Luke despises the way he has to sit down with people he’s known for years and tell them they’re back to sleeping on the floor. Seniority is one thing - being claimed is more important. 

He trains. It’s the only thing he can do. There’s no pride that comes with failure. Some of the Ares kids jeer at him but none of them try to fight him, just watch as he fights with Annabeth like old times. Knife against sword. He trains and he studies and he watches as the floor of Hermes cabin becomes a minefield of belongings as summer peaks. 

Little will change between now and fall, he knows that with certainty. He’ll still be stuck burning food for his father, willing something to happen that will earn him a deserved quest. Maybe it’s foolish, this desire to try again, to keep going on quests until he returns from one he can say was his. Not a feat of Hercules, but a tale of Luke. He has camp glory, he needs more than that.

*

Summer ends, as it always did. He says goodbye to more cabinmates than anyone, standing at the edge of the borders until the sun is nearly setting in the sky. Thalia’s tree is behind him as the last kid leaves, an eleven year old girl that had done nothing more than stare with wide eyes every time he lifted a sword. He wonders if he’ll see her next June at all. 

“Back to basics again,” Annabeth says from behind him and he rolls his eyes as she shimmers into existence, baseball cap in hand. “Do you think it’ll get easier?”

He forgets sometimes that she’s still a kid. Wise beyond her years, a strategist to be admired, but just a kid. And a first time cabin counselor. She hasn’t said goodbyes like this before, to everyone she’s housed over three months. Teenagers that had looked to her as their leader, even if they didn’t understand her being given such power. Children who revered her position and her history as if she were a Greek tale herself.

Luke had understood it, had fought for it in April when Kieran Ho had sent word to Chiron that he wouldn’t be returning that summer. She had seemed so prepared to take on the role. He hadn’t realized that it might take more of an emotional toll than she was ready for. 

“Honestly,” he leans back against Thalia’s tree, surveying the camp below them as if he’s never seen it before. Annabeth glares at him for it. “It gets harder every year. It doesn’t end.”

“Some of those kids aren’t coming back.” Annabeth says it as a statement, a fact of life that they’ve both come to terms with. But there’s a shake to her voice, the kind saved only for when she’s terrified of being wrong, so he lets it linger in the air and get carried away. He thinks that’s answer enough. 

*

Winter Solstice comes and he feels ready. Months of only fighting Clarisse and Annabeth. Meals spent with the busiest table still, but with nothing to talk about. So long dedicated to being angry, to dreaming, to waking up in a cold sweat from everything he’s been given permission to see. 

He steals the bolt. It’s a simple plan, one he doubted originally, but it works a charm. There’s no questioning how important the Gods think of themselves anymore, how above everybody else they view themselves (literally and figuratively) to be. He escapes from floor 600 of the Empire State Building with the source of Zeus’ power in his possession and no one bats an eye. 

Annabeth will never have to come to terms with losing campers. Thalia’s sacrifice won’t be in vain the way it has been since his return. Hermes won’t be able to ignore him any longer, pretending as if being a glorified mailman means more than his son. By next summer, the world will already have begun to change. 

Trekking through Manhattan, he understands now why he was destined to fail against Ladon. What his scar will come to represent in years to come. Luke Castellan was never meant to steal an apple - he was destined, instead, to change history and with that, the world.

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, sixy-nine

AN: I’ve been waiting literal years to get to chapter 69, but alas. It didn’t work out the way I wanted it to. In fact, I think this chap is going to be split in two. Hopefully the second half will be up by the end of the weekend. Please enjoy and lmk via comment or reblog if you’re still out there.

Aelin leaned her head back into the seat rest and let the wind whip through her long hair, her stress melting away with each mile they drove away from Orynth. In the aftermath of the Evalin debacle, she was more than ready for a full week of nothing resembling schoolwork or stress whatsoever. Nothing but relaxation, sunshine, and sex. She’d even made a special trip to the mall with Manon and Elide to purchase a few new nightgowns for the occasion. And she could not wait to show them off. And honestly, she couldn’t wait to have sex in a real bed. Her knees were totally bruised and red from the back seat of the Jeep. She sighed happily, imagining the week-full of scantily clad moments and couldn’t help but look over at Rowan, who was hyper focused as he made his way through the winding highways at the base of the Terrasen mountains.

She took a moment to truly ogle him. The flex of his forearm as he made his way meticulously around every curve. His furrowed brow and his recently cropped hair showing off the thick column of his throat. One of his teeth peeked from between his pillowy lips, gnawing on the skin there, completely oblivious to Aelin’s lusting.

“Aelin, look away from your boyfriend before he crashes the car,” Lysandra laughed from the backseat, causing Aedion to snort loudly beside her. “Could you be any hornier? Gods.”

“Yes,” Rowan smirked, still not taking his eyes off the road ahead of him. Okay, so maybe not completely oblivious. “You sure your parents won’t care that we’re spending the week at their beach house?” Rowan asked Lysandra for approximately hundredth time since she’d pitched the idea the week earlier.

“They’re on a luxury cruise on the coast of the Southern continent for the rest of the month,” she replied, giving her same answer no matter how many times he asked for reassurance.

The plan had come together fairly last minute, not that Aelin was complaining. She’d anticipated her spring break being a boring (but still delightful) affair of vegging out in front of the television, but this was going to be a whole lot better. Obviously, spring break was a minefield of substance use (and abuse), and Lysandra had pitched the idea of a sober week at her parents’ completely empty beachside mansion. Aelin could tell that Lysandra was feeling genuinely nervous about the prospect of being alone, and Aelin was happy to gather a group of people, who would enjoy a week of sobriety. Manon and Elide had jumped at the opportunity to be unsupervised for a week, while Dorian had pratically thrown himself across the table asking to join. (Apparently his dad had been more annoying than usual as he waited for college apps to roll in). And though Aelin had anticipated Chaol not wanting to participate, given whatever weirdness was going on with him and Dorian, he also seemed exciting to come.

What Aelin hadn’t anticipated, though, was her cousin’s presence. He was waiting at Lysandra’s, suitcase in hand, as Rowan and Aelin swung by earlier this morning. He’d waved her raised brow off with a loud, “Let’s get this sober party started!” And that was, apparently that.

She looked behind her at the pair, wondering what was actually going on between them. Despite the absence of any kind of drugs or alcohol, Aelin had a distinct feeling this week was going to be a wild one.

. . .

The house was… incredible. She’d seen pictures of it before, but Lysandra’s family used it primarily as an event space, renting it out during the summer months. It was still slightly too chilly to utilize the beach, so it sat, dark and empty. But, just stepping into the brightly lit foyer, Aelin felt lighter than air.

“You and Rowan are in the master on the fourth floor,” Lysandra said, pointing to the staircase.

“Really?”

“Aedion requested that you both be out of earshot from him,” she said with a teasing smile.

“And where is my dear cousin going to be sleeping?” Aelin asked, curiosity peaking.

Lysandra rolled her eyes, and Aelin didn’t fail to notice that wasn’t an answer.

“Manon and Elide are stopping for takeout, so text them with your order ASAP,” she said instead.

Aelin was going to push further, but Rowan came sweeping in beside her, their suitcases in hand, and starting running up the stairs.

“Race ya!”

“That’s cheating!”

Aelin tripped over her own sneakers trying to get ahead of him, but the man was built like a tree trunk, and no matter how many times she tried to snake around him, he blocked her again and again.

Finally, as they rounded the corner to master suite, Aelin was able to pull ahead. And the sight that awaited her was even better than she could have imagined.

Squealing, she took off in a run before falling back, full body flopping and bouncing onto the

king-sized bed, which took up the center of the room. She sighed happily as she stared up at the billowy canopy above her, the smell of beachside breeze surrounding her as Rowan cracked open their giant bay window. Behind a set of gauzy curtains was a private balcony, overlooking the beach and the ocean beyond it, and Aelin felt like royalty with how good everything felt. She could get used to this.

With a wide smile, Rowan came and flopped next to her, both of them bouncing in tandem off the mattress and crashing down into each other in a breathless pile of limbs.

“Hi,” Rowan said, curling his body towards hers, his green eyes dark as his hand ran its way under the hem of her shirt. She inched forward in return, leaning into the pads of his fingers as they circled the skin of her back.

“Hi.”

Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears. Although, that could be due to the fact that they’d just sprinted up four flights of stairs.

“Dinner! Text.” Lys shouted up the stairs, breaking the spell between them momentarily. She jotted off a quick text, then resumed her position staring at Rowan. Gods, he was so beautiful. And she was so lucky to have him. His fingers never ceased their movement, delicately running up and down the curve of her side, as his face relaxed into a contended smile. She briefly had the urge to pull her journal from her backpack and record this moment, this prolonged moment of touching between them, as she had before they’d admitted their feelings for each other. The shadow of a past that she barely knew anymore.

She’d brought the journal in hopes that she’d be able to write out any of her feelings regarding her murky future, but with Rowan’s face merely inches away, it all seemed so clear. She’d only ever need him. Unable to resist the pull between them for a second longer, she tugged the collar of his shirt toward her and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

He mumbled something against her mouth, but she was too blissed out to really hear his words.

“Shouldn’t we go downstairs,” he laughed, as she trailed kisses down his throat. “Help Lys unpack the groceries and games and stuff?”

“Mmm, no,” Aelin said, rolling her boyfriend to his back and lifting up his shirt to scatter soft kisses against his abs. She loved the way they clenched beneath her touch. It made her feel so powerful. Rowan snorted loudly, but it morphed quickly into a groan as she fiddled with the waistband of his pants.

“Ace,” he attempted to admonish her. “Friends. Downstairs.”

“Guess we’ll just have to be quiet.”

He flopped back onto the fluffy white comforter with a muffled groan as Aelin tugged on his pants. And as she started to move over him, she errantly thought she should have texted her friends that they would be late to dinner and not to wait for them.

. . .

They were indeed late for dinner. But no one minded. The table was filled with chatter between their friends, who barely spared the freshly showered pair a glance as they walked in. They table was mid-card game already, and Aelin laughed loudly as she figured out they were playing an extremely intense game of Go Fish between bites of their seafood feast.

“Go. Fish,” Aedion said confidently, causing Dorian’s blue eyes to narrow with irritation.

“If you have a three you have to give it to me,” Dorian insisted, causing Aedion to smirk back.

“I know how to play the game, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

A matching smirk appeared on Dorian’s face, and the sudden moment of silence was so charged that Aelin felt herself warm slightly. Looking around the table, she knew she was not the only one who noticed. The tension coming from both Lysandra and Chaol’s tight smiles was palpable.

Well, that was certainly an interesting development.

“Dorian, do you have any fives?” Manon cut in, apparently observing the same situation that Aelin had.

The spark died quickly as the game progressed, but it didn’t escape Aelin’s attention that Chaol’s eyes flicked between Aedion and Dorian a few dozen times. He’d insisted they were fine and that the moment they spent as more than friends was just a blip in the past, but given his furrowed brow and tipped frown, Aelin had a feeling that wasn’t exactly true. Poor Chaol.

The rest of the night followed without incident — they received a full house tour from Lysandra, who showed them how to use the highly complicated smart house settings, which included internet, lights, the thermostat and auto-timed blackout shades. She also led them out to the deck and taught them how to turn on the hot tub, as well as the outdoor lights and music system. After she taught them how to turn on the projector in the theater room, and where everything had been put away in the kitchen, they decided they deserved an evening of rest. They all gathered on the family room the couch to eat copious amounts of candy and popcorn and watch a horror comedy that Aedion had picked. Aelin was glad she and Rowan had gotten in some alone time earlier, because somewhere toward the middle of the movie, she could feel her eyes getting heavy with sleep.

“You okay?” she could hear Rowan ask somewhere just out of reach of the depths of her exhaustion.

She mumbled a soft, “I’m asleep,” as she flopped harder onto his chest, and she could feel the rumble of his laughter beneath her cheek as he stroked her hair, and that was all she remembered.

She didn’t wake until hours later when the first hints of buttery sunlight peaked through the curtains of their master suite. Based on Rowan’s soft and steady breath beside her, she knew it must be really early, and a quick glance at the clock told her it wasn’t even six yet. Despite not being a morning person at all, she felt invigorated and inspired. She crept quietly out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweats and grabbing her journal before heading downstairs.

The delicious aroma of coffee awaited her downstairs, a full pot already brewed from the fancy machine Lysandra had taught them how to use last night in their detailed house tour. She looked around to see who else was awake, but the kitchen was completely empty. Instead of doing further inspection, she poured a hefty amount of hazelnut creamer into her coffee and grabbed a blanket from the stack on the end of the couch to wrap around her shoulders before making her way onto the deck.

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when she settled in at the outdoor table with her coffee. Awash in the beauty of the blue waves softly lapping at the shore of the beach, contrasting with the deep purple and pink sky first tinged with the first rays of the firey red-orange sun, Aelin felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in a long time.

Her worn journal was battered and bruised, and she regretted that it had been ignored in the recent months, in favor of her color-coded planner. It was her dad who’d reminded her of its existence, wondering if she wouldn’t feel better if she put pen to paper about how she was feeling. And though she wasn’t exactly sure what was going to come out, she placed her pen against a fresh page and took off. As the words formed in her messy sloping print, she found herself writing about the moment itself. She wanted to remember this sky, the way the sunlight spilled over the darkness like a molten lava, lighting up the horizon like a fire, starting deep glowing red, then turning a burning orange, until it became unmistakably golden.

She didn’t know how long she’d been writing for when the seats next to her started to fill up with her friends, but the sun was firmly fixed in the sky, daylight pouring over the wide expanse of sand and glistening atop the ocean’s placid undulations. She shut her journal and reached for her coffee mug, which had been freshly filled and was steaming again. Her glance drifted next to her where Rowan lifted his own mug, which read “World’s Best Granddad” in a scrawling script, in an air cheers, and they both smiled as they took a sip in unison.  

“So, what’s on the agenda today, Miss Lys?” Aedion asked, clapping his hand loudly on her shoulder.

Lys glanced up at him with a beaming smile. “Glad you asked.”

Lysandra had put in more prep than Aelin had even anticipated, making sure that they had multiple activity options for each day they spend there. Aelin had known Lysandra was nervous about this week, but she hadn’t realized exactly how nervous until she saw Lys’s list for potential activities and which weather they’d be best for.

Since the weather was abnormally warm for this time of year, they decided to take advantage of the sunshine and explore the local town. It was a short walk from the house, and though it was pretty much just two streets of “downtown,” it was fun to look into each of the darkened windows, seeing where tourists would line up to indulge in artisan fudge and hand crafted beach bags, decadent scoops of ice cream, and kitschy beachwear as soon as summer came around.  

“Sup, buttmunch?” Aedion swung a large arm around Aelin’s shoulders as they ambled down the main street.

Aelin’s instinct was to shrink out of her cousin’s arms and tell him to fuck off, but he had the distinct privilege of catching her in a moment where she was trying to relish the moment. She remembered how hard it sucked when he went away to college, how far away he felt, and couldn’t resist leaning into his grasp. It only caused him confusion.

“You good?”

Aelin nodded. But Aedion knew her too well.

“I heard about your mom.”

Well, that caught Aelin’s attention.

“What? How?”

He nodded toward Lysandra. “Don’t be mad if she wasn’t supposed to tell. She was just… worried. If anyone knows about parental issues…”

Aelin shrugged. “I’m okay.” But Aedion wasn’t satisfied with that answer and proceeded to pinch her side. “OW!”

She must have reacted too exuberantly because before she could say anything, Rowan was there, hovering and worrying and asking Aedion what was going on.

“I’m fine, buzzard,” she laughed, shooing him away.

“Sorry I upset your bodyguard,” Aedion chuckled. And it felt so natural to just be with him that she almost cried. She thought about the way their relationship had ebbed and flowed in the last two years, and she regretted… a lot. She loved Aedion. And cutting him out was one of the worst things she’d done in a long list of mistakes.

“He’s fine. And so am I,” Aelin reassured her cousin, who was still peering at her with the eyes she saw in the mirror every day. Damn, it was so hard to lie to him. “Or, I will be.” She took a deep breath. “I’m just looking forward to a week with no drama.”

At that, Aedion snorted loudly.

“I’m sorry, you gathered a group of stressed out couples and almost couples and former couples and expected them not to bring you drama?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

Aelin’s jaw dropped. “And which one are you?”

“I don’t believe in labels,” he replied, puffing out his chest. But his posturing was short-lived as he lowered his voice. “Dorian is… nice.”

“I KNEW IT!” Aelin hissed.

“Shush,” he chastised her, pulling her closer.

“But what about Lys?” she asked.

And she saw the way Aedion’s eyes glazed over with concern as he sought out the brunette in front of them. “She’s an incredible human, and I like her a lot.” He paused. “Maybe more than I should.” He sighed as he looked down at Aelin again. “She’s strong as hell, and she’d straight up die for anyone she cares about. It reminds me a lot of someone else I know…” He chuckled. “But, she’s not allowed to date for at least another six months, according to her sobriety rules. And she said she’ll probably follow it for longer, given how fucked up her last relationship was. And, she’s straight up told me that. And I have to respect that. So, yeah, I’m looking elsewhere.” He paused, his eyes sliding to Dorian’s swaying hips a few feet in front of them. “And elsewhere is cute.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and elsewhere has a former-almost relationship sleeping next door to him.”

“I know,” Aedion laughed. “Which is why I think you should be prepared for drama,” he said, tickling her side. “I know you can’t possssibly understand because you’re in the most incredible amazing relationship ever, but…”

“You talking about my butt?” Dorian quipped, winking over his shoulder, and Aedion’s cheeks had the audacity to turn pink.

Aelin didn’t think she’d ever seen him blush before, and she couldn’t believe the shade of scarlet he turned at Dorian’s attention. Which… was worrisome, given Chaol and Lysandra’s sudden tension in their posture. Drama. Oh dear. Perhaps Aedion was right. Aelin considered herself warned.

. . .

When they got back to the house, everyone was ordered to leave the kitchen. Manon and Chaol (of all people!) had decided to cook everyone a gourmet dinner. Unbeknownst to anyone, Chaol had pursued an interest in the culinary arts and he was enamored by the technology available to him in Lysandra’s parents’ kitchen. And apparently Manon was an excellent chef, according to Elide, who had enjoyed many meals via her girlfriends’ talents. As they had walked by a local grocery, they’d picked up all the ingredients they needed for the most delicious dinner ever. They spent their time walking through the aisles, deciding what to prepare and landed on a multi-course meal that would knock everyone’s socks off. Apparently last night’s takeout was… fine, but they wanted something more elevated. Just from overhearing their planning, Aelin had deduced dinner would consist of several different salads, seared scallops, a complicated steak dish, and a dessert that Aelin would be dreaming about for hours. She thought perhaps they had watched too much Top Chef, but who was she to complain about receiving the fruits of their labor?

Since the group had hours to kill and the sun was starting to sink into the horizon and leave the house shrouded in dark shadow, Lys suggested that they start up the hot tub while Manon and Chaol manned the kitchen. Elide and Chaol had offered themselves up as sous chefs to help with any prep, but they were rejected, leaving them to join the hot tub crew. Aelin felt absolutely great about that. And as soon as she put on her bikini, so did Rowan. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and nuzzling his face into her neck. “Mmm, you smell so good,” he moaned, and Aelin couldn’t resist smiling widely as she remembered the multiple nightgowns she’d brought and hadn’t taken out yet. Rowan would be dying. And they’d be putting this master bed with its fluffy mattress and even fluffier comforter to good use. She’d specifically bought a few sexy nightgowns in colors she knew he would love – gold, green, and red. But she was careful to push them to the bottom of the suitcase and out of Rowan’s view. After arranging the clothes just so, so everything was out of sight, she placed her her journal on top to and pulled her bathing suit out.

He was already clad in low-slung shorts, which highlighted his abs in an obscene way, and she contemplated saying fuck it to the hot tub and just pulling him into bed right in that very moment, but she also knew that she should be social and that this was not just a sexcation for her and her boyfriend. When she looked at the wide expanse of his chest and thick roped arms that was hard to remember. So she pulled him out of the room quickly, not wanting to tempt herself more than she needed.

In the hot tub, Lys and Aedion were already stewing in the steamy water, seltzers in hand as they tried to control their temperature. Aelin stepped in and let the lapping bubbles overtake her, sliding onto a seat that was right next to a pulsing jet. She couldn’t help but moan, causing all the eyes in the hot tub to slide to her.

“Sorry,” she apologized, causing a round of laughter to take off.

Dorian and Elide slinked in shortly after, and even though Aelin was leaning hard into Rowan’s side, she kept an eye on Aedion and Dorian and Lys, wondering exactly what was going on between all of them at every moment. Rowan definitely noticed at one point, elbowing her side, but she ignored him.

“Ugh, I’m overheated,” Rowan complained about thirty minutes into their soak.

“Really? I’m perfect,” Aelin replied, causing everyone to laugh.

Rowan shook his head, laughing at his girlfriend. “I’m gonna take a cold shower and then I’ll be back,” he assured her, leaving her with a solid kiss that left Aelin breathless.

“Y’all are as disgusting as ever,” Aedion said, causing Dorian to snort loudly.

“That’s nothing,” he added. “Wait until you see them in the minutes before they head to their not-so-secret parking lot spot to fuck.”

Aelin’s cheek’s filled with blood at his words, but she wasn’t ashamed. “Whatever,” she laughed off.

Even Elide joined in the razzing, making Aelin realize that maybe she and Rowan were more obvious than they let on. She was so busy laughing that she barely realized that Rowan hadn’t rejoined them until everyone was getting out of the tub an hour later.

As she walked through the kitchen, she sniffed in the incredible aromas and told Manon that she was looking forward to dinner, to which her friend simply replied, “You better be.”

Dripping slightly, she skipped up the stairs to the master bedroom. Rowan was laid out on the bed, his eyes closed, and Aelin assumed that he was simply exhausted, and walked herself straight into the shower. She showered the chlorine out of her hair and took extra time to shave her legs all the way up to her hips, making sure that she was feeling good and confident about being alone with Rowan tonight.

But when she made her way out to the bedroom, Rowan was staring at her with such vitriol that she was taken aback.

“Uh, hi?” she asked, and he simply scoffed.

“Hi.” She wrapped the towel tighter around her chest and looked at him for real. He did not look happy. His frown tugged down exaggeratedly and his brow was crinkled with stress lines.

“You okay?” she asked, even though the answer was an obvious no.

“Just wondering why you’re with me if you think I’m inconsiderate and emotionally stunted,” he said super casually, as if he hadn’t said something completely insane.

“What?”

He reached for her journal, which she hadn’t even realized was in his grasp, and held it in front of them.

“Apparently you think I’m selfish and horrible and completely unworthy of your attention, so I guess I’m not so sure of what you’re doing with me.”

Aelin was aghast.

“You read my journal?”

He scoffed, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Well, it was out there for anyone to see. I barely had to flip through it to see all the shit you wrote about me,” he said, annoyed as ever. But all it did was spur Aelin’s anger. How…dare he?

She snatched the journal from his hands and clutched it to her still damp chest.

“You’re not even denying it. You read my journal.”

He stuck his nose into the air, not denying a thing, and Aelin’s heart panged with a hurt so large she thought maybe she was having a heart attack.

“That wasn’t okay, Ro.”

“Obviously,” he quipped. “This is where you write how much you fucking hate me.”

She could feel herself vibrating with anger as she opened the journal in front of him. “Oh yeah? I hate you?” she sassed. “Then please tell me why I spent all of the summer between junior and senior year cataloguing every time you touched me? Because I hated you?” she seethed. “This journal is my most private thoughts and feelings,” she admitted. “And most of them are about how in love with you I am.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders shaking with every deep breath. “So you read the one page where I was frustrated that you didn’t love me too? Get over it, Rowan. You put me through hell. HELL!” she shouted. “You didn’t give me any signal that you loved me too, at all. So, sorry if I had one stupid journal entry talking about how frustrated I was with you. If you had turned the fucking page,” she said, turning the page for effect. “You would have seen how stupidly obsessed and in love I was with you, but you don’t deserve to read that either.”

She shook with her anger, unaffected by the change in her boyfriends’ expression.

“Now get out.”

“But—”

“Get out.”

She watched as Rowan gathered himself off the bed and headed out the door, and she chose to ignore the small furrow in Rowan’s brow or the clenching of his jaw, as she slammed the door shut.

How dare he. Like, really. How. Dare. He? He had no right to invade her privacy and then be mad about what he’d discovered. Not to mention, if he’d only skipped ahead a few pages in the journal he would have stumbled on a time stamped record of every time he’d touched her, making her skin light on fire with lust and wanting. I’m fact, nearly 99% of that journal was just wishing and hoping that he’d ever look her way or see her as more than a friend. It was the contents of a lovestruck puppy. But NO. He had to crack open her journal and peer inside the one, single day where she hated the wanting and the pain from wanting so bad that she had to get it out — expel the poison from inside her, knowing that none of it was really how she felt. It wasn’t true then and it certainly wasn’t true now. And he knew that! So, how dare he have the audacity to be upset about her most private painful thoughts when he was the one invading them?

She could feel tears burning the edges of her eyelids but refused to let them through. Instead, she sniffed back loudly and tilted her head to the ceiling. An old fan whirred slowly above her, letting out a soft clinking sound with each rotation. One of the blades was slightly off and kept catching the very top of the chain that dangled below. Her breathing steadied as she watched the fan do its wonky loop again and again, the clinking starting to soothe her and she inhaled and exhaled with each sound. 

What a dick.

“UGH!” Aelin pushed herself up and stalked to the door, swinging it back open.

Rowan stood exactly where the door had slammed in his face, and she watched him take a breath, presumably to say he was sorry, but Aelin didn’t care. “Don’t,” she whispered under her breath. “I’m starving, and this dinner sounds so fucking good, and I don’t want to fight.”

“I just want to talk—”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.

To his credit, he nodded succinctly, not pushing for more.

“I’m so mad at you,” she continued. “What you did is not okay,” she said, breathing hard and ignoring the way his green eyes pinched at her words. “That journal is my private thoughts and feelings, and you reading it without me… I thought we had boundaries.”

His eyes looked sad as he said, “But I thought we told each other everything.”

And she took a large breath to reply. Because she understood. She really did. “We do. Now. But Ro, that journal is from years and years of our lives. It starts freshman year, and I still use it today. Do you know how many thoughts and feelings I’ve had about you since then?” she asked. She grabbed the journal. “If you turned the page, you would have seen a detailed time stamped spreadsheet of every time you touched me our sophomore year. Literally time stamped. But there were so many times that I wasn’t sure about us. You were with fucking Lyria! For months,” she shouted. “So, how dare you come and be mad at me when you read how I was feeling during that time? I didn’t know if you’d be with me ever.” She took another deep breath, ignoring Rowan’s pained face. “I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt, but I’m not sorry for writing my feelings down in my journal. It was the only way I was able to survive. And youi peaking into that time without acknowledging how hard you hurt me then isn’t just tone deaf, but it's stupid, Ro. Really fucking stupid.”

“I thought you wanted me to read it…” he said, trying to explain himself.

“Well, that was your mistake,” she said, wiping a rogue tear from her cheek.

Rowan apologized, but Aelin barely heard him. She’d wanted to be apart from the drama, but as she and Rowan made her way down to dinner, she realized that they were the drama. And it was about to be everyone else’s problem.

[halfmoonism]

your feathers are priceless, beloved little bird

p5, ann & joker & ryuji || spoilers for the first palace ruler

whenever ren thinks of his first month at shujin, it’s always the same conversation in his head, the same three lonely kids against the world.

for plantober day 14: heather (bad fortune, illness, curse, death)

cw for allusions to child abuse (1st palace ruler)

“Do you think we’re… y’know, cursed or something?” Ryuji asks once, back when they still had rooftop access and expulsion was their biggest threat, the world at their tiny fingertips. He’d been glancing through a magazine with the sort of aimlessness Ren mistook for boredom before realizing the tension in his grip, and looks up.

“What?” Ann pushes herself up and off the wall, eyes firmly fixated on her phone. She, too, is far from holding herself casually. Not that Ann’s the greatest at it regardless. “No way. It’s not like we even did anything.”

Ren, ever the observer even at the best of times, sits back and says nothing, but he drops his hand to the desk and drums along a nonsense rhythm in wait.

“That’s what I mean!” Ryuji swings an arm around with all of his usual grace. Which is to say none, he almost whacks Ren in the face, but it’s not a problem when it gets Ann to snicker. He’s good at that, getting people to laugh with him. Ren’s almost jealous. “None of us did anything to deserve this shit!”

Her laugh, or what little of it lingered, vanishes. “Oh. Oh. You meant… so we’re talking about this now?”

Which is when it occurs to Ren that they’ve never actually talked about anything, not properly. Ann broke down in the cafe and Ryuji’s told him snippets during warmups, but they’re both impressive at grinning away most things that make them uncomfortable as soon as they loosen up. Which doesn’t feel quite right. He’s a persona user with them, right? He should be able to see past the masks better than the rest of Shujin, at least. These are his first friends. They deserve more.

He’s looking at Ann now, though, and sees nothing but a stone wall.

“I, uh,” and Ryuji’s seeing the same thing too, apparently, “well, we don’t gotta, I just. It’s fucked up, right? I didn’t think about it ‘till Renren brought it up—” Ren grimaces “—but look at us! That piece of shit’s been hurting his whole team and no one’s gonna side with us—”

“Obviously!” Ann shouts, face scrunched up. He’s never doubted her strength, not once, and the force of her words feels like a swing from a longsword. “Who’d side with us? They don’t care! No one even cared about Shiho until she—she—ugh, shut up, Ryuji!”

“Hey, I didn’t even—”

Ren clears his throat. They don’t quite stop, but their momentum swings towards him, and that’s good enough. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says slowly, staring down at them both, “and we’re getting off track, anyway. Why’d you ask, Ryuji?”

Ryuji’s questioning look is careful. Somehow, Ren has to fight back a strong bitterness in his chest. “What?”

“If we were cursed.”

He doesn’t answer.

Ann’s not saying anything either, resting both palms on Ryuji’s desk like she’s waiting for a mine in a minefield. She watches Ren the same way when she thinks he isn’t looking, he knows, and he’s honestly just grateful she’s willing to be around them at all right now. “It’d make sense if I was,” she says shortly. Then, quieter, “You, too.”

Ryuji snaps his head up. “Huh?”

“Oh, come on.” Ann rolls her eyes, but she also can’t meet Ryuji’s. “Like you deserved what that monster did to you.”

Ryuji leans back at that, shoulders pulled outward like he’s ready to argue, but then he turns to Ann, really turns to her, and something in her gaze makes him deflate. Not comically or casually, but just defeated. It doesn’t fit him. “Shit. Yeah.”

For all of his bravado and heroics in the Metaverse, for all of their flashy truer selves, this isn’t something Ren can fix. Can even begin to fix. So he sits still, and they all let it drop.

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

A Long Talk With clipping. About CLPPNG

10 years later, Daveed Diggs, Jonathan Snipes, and William Hutson discuss their sophomore album and Sub Pop debut.

[...] In the 10 years since clipping.’s first studio album, CLPPNG, was released with legendary Seattle label Sub Pop, a lot has happened: Donald Trump, #BlackLivesMatter, the pandemic, Hamilton (which might seem out of place in this list, but it was certainly life-changing for Diggs, who suddenly found himself a household name—and not for his rap projects, but for his swaggering, indelible Broadway portrayal of America’s third president, Thomas Jefferson). But despite Diggs’s meteoric rise and clipping.’s growing cult following—despite undergoing the hellscape of the past decade like the rest of us—the beating (or, perhaps, beeping) heart of the trio remains the same: a sheer love for music, experimentation and each other.

[...] I love that you have this philosophy of constraints that’s really generative, but at the same time, you don’t constrain yourself to the constraints, and you’re willing to let them go in service of a song. Where does that philosophy originate for you all?

Snipes: The sweet spot, at least for me, is when the concept is incredibly audible, you know? It’s actually not when we gear the concept with layers and production stuff, it’s when we actually are very, very narrow in how we present it. And there are times where the concept becomes inaudible, when we’ve done all this work and we don’t get credit for it. In those cases, we’re pretty quick to abandon it and just make something that has, like, an aesthetic. But I think the real goal for me when doing this really conceptual stuff—and not all our songs are like this—are creating songs that you hear and you know exactly how they’re working, like “Run For Your Life” or “Get Up.” And it’s still a good song and the process is communicated. It’s like a weird little triumvirate of all these things lighting up. This was true to a degree in “Dream,” too—there are a lot of concepts sort of coexisting in that song. We have field recordings of birds cut into rhythmic loops so that they’re falling on beat; we have these drums re-amped from hundreds of feet away in nature, and I think that’s audible. I think you can tell that that’s happening. And then Daveed is rapping very closely into binaural mics and a dummy head—the idea is, if you listen to it in headphones, it’s like Daveed is literally behind your head, which…sort of works! [laughter]

[...] Misogyny has a long history in rap—and in most music, honestly—and while clipping. plays on those tropes, it often feels carefully constructed, such that it doesn’t ever quite feel like it’s perpetuating them. I’d imagine that’s always a bit of a minefield, though, so how much does that awareness play into your songwriting? Or is it more of a subconscious choice?

Diggs: I think we’re aware of it, or we were certainly aware of it early on—I don’t think about it as much anymore. I used to be really careful about pronouns; there were songs that switched gender pronouns in the middle for no reason. Like, I used to be really specific about this.

Like “Wriggle,” I think—the chorus says “girl” one time and “boy” the next, if I’m remembering correctly.

Diggs: Yeah, “Wriggle” for sure. But even things about a single character, I used to try and sneak those things in just to complicate the issue a little bit more—and also to feed into the initial “no first-person,” the “no central narrative spine” or “human at the center” of these things. I mean, of course it’s clearly my voice rapping it, but I thought maybe, “Oh, if we complicate the gender pronouns a little bit, that might make it more amorphous, might help with that.”

Hutson: We definitely do use misogyny as a trope—as a feature of rap music. It’s deployed in our music in a way that’s, like, referential more than anything else. It feels like there’s scare quotes around it, almost. We started out as a band that played at The Smell and all these places where we knew the people who ran the place, we knew everyone in the audience, we knew all the other bands and they knew exactly who we were. So when Daveed would say “it’s clipping., bitch” at the end of the show, they knew we were sort of jokingly referring to Britney Spears saying that, you know? But once we grew outside of an audience that knew us personally, that knew our politics and felt safe with us, I think we started to use those things less often. We were aware of and worried that people are going to hear us and actually take meaning from it about who we are or might be, and we don’t want to have to go around explaining the use of that word. That word does still appear, but again, it always feels, to me, like it’s in some sort of scare quotes in the songs. I think it’s clear, and we haven’t run into people, like, willfully misinterpreting our deployment of misogyny as anything more than a sonic choice—as something that feels recognizable as rap. Because there are words like that, you know?

[...] Daveed, I think you’ve talked before about how rap is all about partying with the horror—through the horror—of day-to-day miseries, which feels like such a central thematic beat for clipping. The third-person-omniscient perspective of many of the songs on CLPPNG, for instance, allows for both distance and intimacy in a really interesting way. Thinking of, for example, “Inside Out” or “Check the Lock,” although that’s from a later album—those are songs that let us see reality in all its clinical brutality while still highlighting the desperate attempts to party through it. How do you maintain that balancing act of party/horror, of dance music/grim reality?

Diggs: I think horror is maybe too strong of a word, unless we’re talking about our horror records, but I think what rap music is good at is not only refusing to soften the hardness of reality but sometimes exaggerating it too—and then making it into party music. It’s the revelation in the late ‘70s, early ‘80s, that just because you were sampling disco music didn’t mean it had to be “hip hop, hippie to the hippie, the hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop,” you know what I’m saying? Like, you could tell real life stories on top of danceable beats. That’s the thing that rap music has always been really good at—so we’re just continuing that. Although these are not real life stories, they are doing the same thing. They’re not fun stories, on top of danceable beats.

Hutson: Yeah, they take place in a version of the world as it is. And joy still exists, even though everything looks terribly fucked up.

[...] Final question: Back in 2014, did you think that you would still be doing clipping. 10 years later?

Hutson: I think—well, we expected to still be friends, and we’d been friends for so long before this that I always figured this is a band that will never break up. We can always just make another album when we feel like it. So no, I didn’t think that we were going to be a success. But, I did think that the three of us would hang out and keep doing this, when we had the time, for, really, the rest of our lives.

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

Mark Webber has proven to be an invaluable and calming influence on Oscar Piastri. Picture: James Moy/XPB

Reflecting on Webber’s influence on his son, speaking to Speedcafe, Chris Piastri said: “Motor racing itself is always a confidence game

“When you get to the top level, just knowing that you can be fast is a big part of the battle.

“Throughout the season Oscar has just been slowly ticking the boxes, providing the little bits of feedback in the engineering debriefs, and it’s all boosting his confidence.

“And Mark has been fantastic in his support of Oscar, giving him that little nudge when he needs it, or calming him down when he needs it, not that Oscar needs calming down too much.

“It’s just really good to see. He’s doing what he did in F3 and F2, just going through the motions, doing what needs to be done, staying calm, and putting the lap in when it counts.”

Although it is now a decade since Webber last drove in F1, Chris Piastri believes the 46-year-old’s knowledge and retained links with the sport have been crucial for Oscar over these past few years of their relationship.

“Mark’s experience is invaluable for Oscar,” added Piastri Sr.

“He’s done it all before, and while not in this current era – he doesn’t really give Oscar much assistance in the car and honestly, I don’t think Oscar needs it – but it has helped with all the other stuff, the external stuff outside of racing.

“As you know, Formula 1 can be quite a political minefield, but Mark gives the guidance, and steadies the ship when needed.

“It’s that quiet achievement vibe. Mark did it his whole career and the personality of both Oscar and Mark are very similar. It’s just great to see, they’re a great team.”

[louisisalarrie]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisisalarrie/756385538769092608/hello-i-was-just-going-through-tumblr-to-try-and

I’d love to believe these but honestly they’re always the same kind of format. Anon implies they’re not a Larry so knew nothing previously of the Lou/Harry situation (mmmm); mention of them touching (or kissing) in the room (I highly doubt it!); Louis being loud (well I can believe that! But everyone knows that about Lou so it’s not necessarily proof); how Harry smells; mention of Louis being hot…it’s always the same. Like these receipts creators know what Larries want to read/hear and play into it.

It’s a bit cruel if you ask me. I’d love if it were true but I think they’re playing with the fandom.

Hello team!! Thank you for ur sweet messages xx I know I have been super busy and practically MIA for a hot second but regarding this, look…I did a post not too long ago about how everyone waves off receipts as fake. Listen, this day and age, the majority are. It was bad back in the day but now it’s even worse. So yes, a lot of the receipts we are getting are poorly faked/too good to be true/no proof and… that’s the way it is.

So, it’s easy to disregard receipts as fake. It’s very blindingly obvious when they are, and there were certain elements of that one that I’d use as evidence of it being fake, but the thing is… we just don’t fucking know. Right? We just don’t know without blatant proof which is so difficult in Larry’s case without someone losing their job/getting in MAJOR trouble.

Proof is essentially only if there is a photo/video that we can prove is NOT edited (or AI, which has made this increasingly more difficult from 10 years ago) and is clear and certain. Which just… exists, people do have this knowledge and these photos and stuff, but they don’t circulate for a multitude of reasons. So, anyway, we get nothing but words.

And like, I get it. Anyone can write an anon. Anyone can just type out something that seems vaguely realistic but reaches a bit into the fanfic world. It’s easy. However, it’s very hard to tell the real from the fake. And at the moment, the real is along the lines of receipts that aren’t super detailed, over the top, or just plain weird, and the ones we take as real are the more low key ones because it doesn’t make as much sense to fake a lowkey receipt, right?

Anyway, the euro one seemed kinda legit for me, but then after I reassessed, it didn’t seem as real. But, like, who knows? Some of the shit said in these receipts could be genuine but it’s disregarded because it’s seen as too over the top or whatever. But tumblr will always be a minefield for them, because of the anon feature.

So, take what you will, with a grain of salt. It’s getting increasingly harder these days to confirm receipts with less and less content of the two of them, and a bigger anti/solo fandom looking to stir the pot, and easier ways to edit things and it just… is what it is. I tend to reblog it so we can discuss, and if it’s not real and we verify that then it’s not real. But there are many that are that float around so I think, with caution and several grains of salt, do read them and make up your mind.

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

The Bear episode 2.06 "Fishes"

This show is so special. It’s doing everything right- the soundtrack, the cast, the setting, the dialogue, the themes. But more than anything, its real charm lies in how deeply realistic these characters are. The Bear is both one of the most realistic and artistic shows I’ve ever seen, and that’s so exciting to me. In the 90s/2000s era of “quality TV” we had The Wire, hyper realistic, at times to the point of being monotonous, and 24, which readily sacrificed plausibility for relentless action. To me, The Bear represents all the best things that today’s tv is doing; first and foremost, it’s proving that gut-punching familiarity doesn’t have come at the cost of delivering a spectacle.

And nothing makes that point better than “Fishes”. Once again making no effort to be consistent in episode length, “Fishes” is an outlier of season 2 at over 40 minutes long, but it is worth every second. It’s a flashback from Christmas past as the entire Berzatto clan gathers for a very loud and eventful feast of the seven fishes.

Jeremy Allen White and Jon Bernthal in "Fishes". Image courtesy of IMDb.

First let’s talk about the elephant in the room- the amount of famous people in this episode. They just keep coming. I honestly consider the cast of this episode to be a spoiler- seeing and recognizing the stars as they arrived to Christmas dinner felt like a deliberate and important part of my experience as a viewer. Just like Carmy I got to smile and think “wow, it’s so good to see you, I didn’t know you were gonna be here!”- followed immediately by wondering what could possibly be in store with all these people together.

Jaime Lee Curtis takes it the fuck away as Donna in this episode. She called it the role of a lifetime and spent several minutes looking into Jeremy Allen White’s eyes before filming, and learning about the care that was taken in making this episode affirms for me that they knew exactly what they were doing. Before we see her, though, the episode opens on the three kids- Carmy, Sugar, Mikey- talking about her.

Sugar is begging Mikey to do something about their mom (“and here I am just fucking in the middle because you’re you and Carmy’s Carmy”), Mikey is begging her to resist the urge to ask Donna if she’s okay (“You ask somebody if they’re okay, they immediately start thinking they’re not acting okay… and that immediately makes them start not acting okay”), and Carmy is begging them both to come back inside so he’s not stranded with the rest of the family (“can you come inside and be you real quick? I don’t know how to deal with these people”).

Of course, it’s The Bear, so this exchange all happens quickly amidst some yelling from Fak, but nonetheless, there’s so much to this interaction if only there was time to unpack it. But things are moving right along and a beat later we’re in the kitchen with Carmy and Donna. Before this episode I often thought no environment looked less appealing than the back of house at The Beef. And then we cooked with Donna, and it made everything about these people make sense.

Jamie Lee Curtis in "Fishes". Image courtesy of IMDb.

It’s a nightmare kitchen, and not just because she’s cooking seven fishes in there. Carmy steps in like he’s entering a minefield, which he honestly is. Donna’s slamming things and throwing things and dropping things and setting an egg timer for God knows what. But through it all, we ride that fine line of chaos and rhythm, and there’s a musicality to the exchange that happens through all the noise:

“Carmen. I’m spilling shit everywhere. And I’m behind on the lobster. Carmen. I have a question. Cousin Michelle’s friend Steven, is he gay?”

“Is who gay? Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma. Why are you doing the seven fishes thing? Nobody ever eats this shit.”

“Steven. Is he gay? I mean, he seems kinda gay. You know, he’s arty and I mean I love him and everything but he’s gay. I think. And it’s tradition.”

“It’s tradition that he’s gay?’

“No. The seven fishes. What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing this since 4 o’clock this morning for?”

This seems like a good place to mention that cousin Michelle and her actually straight boyfriend Steven are none other than Sarah Paulson and John Mulaney. Even without us knowing Steven and Michelle, we’re able to recognize that they’re quirky yet endearing together and fit right in with the Berzatto clan.

For the first half of the episode Donna is wound pretty tight and everyone is treading very lightly around her (and making sure that Pete throws the tuna salad he brought the fuck away), but it has the endearing familiarity of any family gathering. She gently urges Richie’s pregnant wife to change clothes and lay down in her bed; she tells Carmy she loves him and she’s glad he’s home; she welcomes uncle Cicero into the kitchen with a kiss.

But soon, the relatively lighthearted family dysfunction transitions into a truly traumatic display that perfectly informs all the behavior we’ve seen from the Berzattos throughout the series. Something goes awry in Donna’s hell kitchen right as Sugar walks in, exploding with “It’s like I have to do everything for everyone. No one fucking lifts a finger to help me. Can you just go upstairs and get Dad’s gun out of my drawer, I think I’m just gonna blow my fuckin brains out, and then you guys can make dinner because I don’t think anyone would fuckin miss me.”

All the while, Carmy and Sugar reassure her that they are, in fact, actively helping her. When someone else walks in to offer a hand, Donna screams at them all to get out, out, “get the fuck out!!” In the hall, Sugar siphons a hug off cousin Steve, sharing an understanding of what they just walked into- and out of.

In the next room, Mikey and Richie are in the throes of recounting a tale from a wild time in their past. An unimpressed Uncle Lee, played by Bob Odenkirk, cuts them off, lamenting that he’s heard this story a thousand times. The conflict unearths what is clearly a deeper, longstanding beef (no pun intended) between Mikey and Lee. Lee doesn’t let up, spoiling the end of the story for the rest of the room and then declaring, for everyone to hear, that stories seem to be the only thing Mike is capable of finishing. Cicero enters the room and breaks the ice but doesn’t stop the tension from mounting between the two of them.

Bob Odenkirk in "Fishes". Image courtesy of IMDb.

As everyone sits at the table, Carmy makes good on his promise to handle Donna- he follows her upstairs after her explosion resulted in her storming out of the kitchen. Gently, with that faux nonchalance you use with volatile people, Carmy asks her what’s up. Donna releases that she can’t do this on her own anymore, but doesn’t think that anyone in this family cares about her at all. Like they’ve been doing this whole episode, Carmy lays reassurance on her that everyone is willing to help- to which she fires back that she had to beg him to come home. He insists that he is happy to be there and everyone downstairs appreciates her. She laments that she “makes beautiful things for them and no one makes beautiful things for me”.

Carmy doesn’t really know what to say to that- the self-imposed nature of the seven fishes hellscape is almost comically obvious to everyone but her. Instead, he offers to walk her downstairs and sit at the table together. She declines, and when he decides to wait until she’s ready she asks him why he’s treating her like a child. In the briefest moment that Carmy lets go unchecked, she also calls him Michael. But a moment later she full-name’s him with an icy “Carmen Anthony Berzatto do we have a problem?” He says no and the next moment she’s breaking down in tears, and on a note of relative peace and love Carmy leaves her to go sit.

He enters the dining room just in time to see tension resurface between Mikey and Uncle Lee. After some taunting from Uncle Lee, Mikey throws a fork at him. It gets a reaction from Lee, so he wants to throw another, but the consensus at the table is that Lee’s being a jagoff, but Michael is making everybody nervous. No one will give him their fork. Lee lays on honestly brutal onslaught of verbal abuse “this guy’s nothing and he’s nobody… you loser… you loser fuckin monster.”

We have to spend a minute on the horrendously mean things that have been said to both Mikey and Richie. It’s actually crazy how often they’re called losers, nothing etc. It would be enough to break anybody. If the rest of this gathering wasn’t such a fragile Jenga tower I would’ve been rooting for him to throw the second fork.

Alas, they’re interrupted by Donna finally gracing the table with her presence, eliciting a round of applause. For a second it looks like they might salvage this night. Steven says a grace that I’m pretty sure they let John Mulaney write himself and it’s very nice. So nice that it makes Donna start to cry again.

But if you forbid a question in act one, you can bet someone’s gonna ask it in act three. Sugar just can’t help herself. She asks her mom if she’s okay. It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Oh, Natalie. Do you know how much I fucking hate that you ask me that. Do you ask the rest of these people if they’re okay? Do I not look okay, Natalie? Did I not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers? Am I okay- Are you motherfuckers okay?! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, Natalie.” The whole time Sugar is so meek I could cry. Interjecting when she can that she didn’t mean it like that and can they go upstairs, but Donna just explodes and then storms out of the room alone.

Abby Elliott and Gillian Jacobs in "Fishes". Image courtesy of IMDb.

There’s a brief moment of a kind of relief, of the thing you were dreading finally happening, and the table lets out some nervous breaths and chuckles. Then Mikey throws the fork. It’s instant. Lee lunges at him, Mikey flips the table, everyone is on their feet keeping the two apart. The thing that stops it is maybe the only thing that could stop it. Donna drives her car through the wall. The episode fades out over Mikey banging on the car, repeating “Ma! Open the door! What did you do?! Open the door! Ma!!”

This is really just another love letter from me to The Bear, but there was a full house in this episode, and I obviously didn’t get to everyone! Did “Fishes” resonate with you? What were your favorite parts that I didn’t cover? Why is this show nominated for outstanding comedy? Did the academy see this one?

[twopoppies]

I wonder how much of the young twitter fans have affected things around bgg and even Larry to an extent. You have journalists or people in the media who have commented on things Louis has done and their timelines get flooded with responses about bgg and Larry. I’m sure these kids don’t mean ill but they’re acting like they’re doing something great when in fact they’re not. I can’t image trying to navigate a career with that minefield.

Nor can I. The atmosphere has changed enormously in the past few years. I don’t like the energy of the fandom anymore. I honestly think it’s much more difficult to find the joy here and I really do understand why so many people have left.

[citrus-cactus]

I know you're a major Daisuke/Wallace shipper, but may I ask which other ships with Daisuke you like too, if any? (^・ω・^ )

(in my case i multiship him with a ton of characters... Lately more into TakeDai thanks to Shiha lol)

Ahhh, sorry it took so long for me to answer this!!

Oh, Ni. NI. Do you really want to open up the floodgates of shipping with me?? (bless you)

So, I developed the habit of just not talking about Digimon ships on the Internet many years ago, despite it being the primary thing that was fueling my creative output for a significant period of time (like… 2007-2014, probably??). But yeah, for most of my time on Tumblr, there was no way I was gonna talk directly about Digimon ships, because I’m always scared about the potential backlash such posts may receive (trying to get over that, though!). A few ships have breached brain-containment: Wallsuke and Taijyou, obviously, Taishiro and Nishihime maybe less-obviously (these days). But I feel more comfortable talking about those since they’re (mostly) rarepairs, the haters are minimal/nonexistent, fans of those pairs are chill and awesome, and I guess they just feel “safer” than some of the rest of the Adventure/02/tri/Kizuna shipping minefield XD

I would LOVE to make a chart like the one @reliablejoukido did showing my OTP thru NOTP feelings though! Back in 2012 I know I made a numerical matrix-type thingy for my preferences, but I never published it anywhere and I’m guessing they’ve changed a bit ^^; If I ever found time to make my own template in this day and age, I’d do it, but alas, time makes fools of us all! 🥲

All that is to say, I’m also a multishipper, and I absolutely have other Daisuke ships!! I have ended up on kind of a personal crusade to put more Wallsuke out in the world these past few years, which is why it kind of accidentally ended up being my primary Daisuke ship (oops). It doesn’t mean all those other ships are gone and forgotten, though!

I’m generally using REALLY OLD American English Fandom ship names in this post, only because that’s how I refer to them in my own head. Please don’t think too hard about the spelling/order/capitalization/punctuation of them, because I’m not! I assure you these designations don’t mean anything in this context other than “the relationship between these characters in some platonic or romantic way, explanation to follow.” TL;DR for everyone reading this: don’t be rude about shipping on this post, and don’t nitpick my terminology, please! I’m old, and so, so tired of fandom drama.

And now, without further ado, and in no particular order… DAISUKE SHIPS! ᕕ(ᐛ) ᕗ

Daiyako (Miyako/Daisuke)

I love them as friends hanging out or casually dating. They’re so!!! Well, they’re pretty similar in how strong their convictions are and how open they are about their feelings, which means they agree on a lot of things but also have the potential to clash a lot, which is a dynamic I REALLY enjoy for them. In a romantic scenario, I can definitely see them as going from arguing about something inconsequential to making out in about 3 seconds flat (maybe with a side of “how did we end up here??” ehehehe). IDK, they both give off disaster bisexual vibes to me, and I’m 100% here for that!

Daiken (Ken/Daisuke)

Really great, obviously, either romantic or platonic. They were Jogress partners (cue chorus of “oh my god, they were Jogress partners…”). I actually um. Don’t have a lot to say about this ship, but I do enjoy seeing it on my dash! Daisuke and Ken’s Christmas Carol and the entirety of Revenge of Diaboromon are all-time classics in my mind and I do secretly like one-sided Kaiser/Daisuke or mutual Kaiser/Daisuke Kaiser… shhhh

Daikari (Hikari/Daisuke)

Like, honestly yes. Daisuke, I am rooting for you! I mostly enjoy them as a friendship or in a “falling in love once they grow up and mellow out a bit” context. This is also how I feel about Junpei/Izumi from Frontier, by-the-by. Both pairs give off similar vibes (to me), but I’m more likely to gravitate to thinking about Junzumi because I just. Junpei does NOT get enough love, respect, or attention in general, and I would LOVE to see more portrayals of fat-positive romance for him, specifically.

Daikeru (Takeru/Daisuke)

So, I’ll admit I have a really hard time writing Takeru, which means I don’t do a very good job of imagining him in Situations(tm), but I have read/seen a fair bit of this pair romantically and I like it, I just also don’t have a lot to say about it (I’m sensing a theme!). Once again though, I will happily read what others put out there. Please, fic writers, help me understand how Takeru thinks! He’s such a mystery to me.

Daichi (Taichi/Daisuke)

The admiration Daisuke shows his senpai in canon is very endearing, even if it can seem a bit lopsided (though maybe, by the time Revenge of Dioboromon concludes, the admiration IS quite mutual??). I do like thinking about them as a mentor/mentee pair though, or equals/brothers-in-arms, learning from each other as they compare notes on leadership and decisionmaking.

Daimi (Mimi/Daisuke)

I loooooove their friendship!! IDK, between the NY segment of the World Tour Arc and the Door Into Summer audio drama, it’s there, right? Anyway, I still say these two are the Treat Yo’ Self squad for the Adventure kids, and I love picturing that dynamic for them.

I think me answering this ask is a bit of a stealth request for (short) fic recs that feature these relationships, lmao. I used to casually browse fanfiction a lot more than I do now, I guess I’m too picky or something (plus I have a HUGE backlog of mutuals’ fanfics to read, augh sorry!). And I didn’t mention it, but romantic thruples are good too! I would be interested in reading… oh, I don’t know, pretty much any combination of the older 02 characters in a polyamory situation (Dai/Ken/Miyako, Hikari/Takeru/Dai, Ken/Dai/Takeru, Dai/Miya/Wallace, etc).

So yeah. Shipping!! I love it. Does this mean the floodgates are finally open? IDK, but you could try sending me another Digimon character to see if I’d talk about the ship(s) I have for them!

[vintage-bentley]

If David were giving "wait and see" style answers I'd have a bit more hope but he was talking to the Radio Times which is a reputable publication in the UK so I don't feel like he'd outright lie to them about the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship.

To be honest, both he and Michael have been pretty clear on this being a ~secret background story~ or whatever, and have repeatedly said it's up for interpretation, and I'm worried everybody's doing another Johnlock where they ignore what the people involved are saying and have convinced themselves they're getting confirmation that will never come. The difference is this would be even WORSE because of the marketing campaign for season 2 and Neil's baity comments.

I honestly don't think Neil would be affected by this either because the second anybody expresses disappointment the asexuals in fandom are going to make it all about them and about how society ignores and invalidates their kind of love etc. I think he'll be successfully shielded. There will be pissed off people (especially olds like me who were book fans first and have lived through this shit a billion times) and I'm sure a huge part of the fandom will be quietly seething but we simply won't be allowed to call it bait because "Neil has always said it's a love story and therefore canon uwu" (even if it's plausibly deniable to homophobes and eludes the casual viewer 🙄).

I also think it's very telling that Neil only drew attention to the fake spoilers circulating when a post appeared saying the season was "500% gay" and that Az and Crowley had many romantic scenes. He has also said that while the marketing dept at Amazon clearly love the show he would've advised them to do things differently were he not on strike.

I know we've all been interpreting David and Michael's tight-lipped squirming when asked about a romantic subplot as an attempt not the give EVERYthing away, but it could also be that they know they're not going to deliver what the audience wants (including, apparently, every single interviewer on press day lol) so have been ordered not to say anything that sets themselves up.

IF all of this does turn out to be bait I am going to become a fic writer just to spite Neil lol. Trust I will be writing the smuttiest fic and finding the nastiest NSFW Ineffable Husbands art imaginable and it will be gay, gay, GAY 😂

I still HOPE we're getting what we want because I'm an optimistic fool. I'm just not sure it's guaranteed in the way the fandom thinks it is.

(btw if this doesn't go through anonymously please message me rather than publishing? Unfortunately I have co-workers and real life friends following me on my main 😬)

Sorry anon I couldn’t help but publish these together, it’s very funny to me 😂

Now, I know you’ve done a complete turnaround, but I do see where you were coming from with your first ask. It’s fun to imagine that the squirmy tight-lipped attitude is them doing their best not to spoil…but it’s sadly true that it could also be them feeling like they’re walking in a minefield, knowing that fans are anticipating something they didn’t deliver.

And I agree with you about fan reception to Neil. Like I’ve said before, spicy straights thinking they can call themselves “queer” has been absolutely disastrous to our ability to talk about queerbaiting. Because that term is really supposed to mean gaybaiting. It refers to the specific trend of shows teasing a gay relationship to get viewers hooked, but never taking it anywhere to ensure they don’t loose the viewership of homophobes. But now since everyone and their mother calls themselves “queer”, they seem to think the term queerbaiting applies to them, too. Which has led us to the point where people say “actually this show isn’t queerbaiting, because they don’t show physical affection which is aro/ace representation! Not everything has to be gay!” (In other words, “this show is gaybaiting but I’m happy about that so you can’t get upset about it”).

So, even if the show ends up being perfect textbook queerbait…we can’t say that, because of how the term has been appropriated. And we’ll have to deal with spicy straights whining about how they’re oppressed by gays wanting representation.

But as I’ve said before, I’m very optimistic about it not being bait! Let’s hope we’re right!

[noivoom]

 Okay, after several days of brainstorming and debating with myself, I have finally decided to emerge from The Lurking Pit and share this little (“little”) thing! This AU came about from my love of dysfunctional family tropes as well as my desire for everyone to live (honestly I mostly just wanted to daydream fanfic ideas without having to navigate canon’s minefield of problems, began wondering what an “ideal” situation would look like, and this spawned out of it)

The point of this was to, again, create an “ideal” situation for the gang, with potential for all kinds of Shenanigans™ and Drama™ alike while still keeping everyone as close to their canon selves as possible, as a bit of relief from all the angst :’) (I say “ideal situation,” but that doesn’t mean they haven’t still got issues galore. *cough*SUNNEEDSTHERAPY*cough*) (If, on the off chance anyone is inspired by this and/or wants to make something with this setting, please let me know! I’d LOVE to see it! :D)

I call it- One big UnHappy Family!

TL;DR Sun, Moon, Lunar, Earth, KC, Bloodmoon, and Solar Flare are all alive and well and somehow ended up as the world’s most Complicated™ family. Chaos ensues.

As for how they wound up that way? WELL. I’m gonna start rambling now, please bear with me

It starts with Sun shooting Bloodmoon. Sun didn’t fully know if he really wanted to kill Bloodmoon, was fighting internally to come to a decision one way or another and therefor wasn’t actually aiming when a moment of reflex kicked in, and the barrel went off. And he misses. Well... mostly. Bloodmoon takes a decent amount of the shot, and though it doesn’t kill them, they’re left severely damaged. It’s quite a confronting sight for Sun- while in canon there was nothing left of BM for Sun to really understand the weight of what he just did (at first, anyway), here he’s immediately confronted with another animatronic panicking and in pain as their nanomachines desperately try to rebuild them :’) Nothing like a bit of visual trauma to hit home that your actions have consequences, amirite? Moon investigates the barrel shot and sudden screaming (from both BM and Sun) to find... this. He’d probably have several things in mind to say to Sun about shooting BM, but he’d hold off for now. And thus begins one hell of a domino effect.

While fixing Bloodmoon, it becomes apparent the barrel shot corrupted some of their code. Nothing particularly bad, but oddly enough, it seems to have somehow also curbed their bloodlust. The lack of cravings leave the twins disoriented and kinda lost, but it’s also... almost a relief. Lunar takes advantage of this, introducing them to new things to occupy their time, and wow, who knew they could find entertainment in something other than homicide and appalling crimes against humanity? They’re still Bloodmoon, of course, they still have to be held back from killing people, but that’s not all they wanna do anymore. And food! Now that their bloodlust is out of the way food tastes so much better, there’s so many different flavours and textures and they gotta try everything and whoops, they’ve accidentally found themselves on the world’s weirdest redemption arc. (So, uh, thanks for shooting them after all, Sun...? I guess?)

Meanwhile KC, concerned over Bloodmoon’s wellbeing, convinces Moon to let him watch over them during their recovery. As the twins begin discovering new things that satisfy themselves, KC, trying to be Dad™, joins them. He’s never actually participated in anything that doesn’t involve murder, and much of these activities are uninteresting to him, but something about doing it with his sons... it actually... satisfies something in him, too. (None of them are particularly good at finding non-violent hobbies, mind you, but Lunar, Sun and Moon help out. Mostly to keep them occupied. They have no idea what’s going on, but they much prefer whatever the hell this is to evil plotting.) Eventually Moon relaxes a little when he realises KC intends to stay true to their deal, and occasionally switches off while KC’s out rather than watching him like a hawk. This leads to KC exploring on his own and running into Glamrock Freddy. He panics a little and pretends to be Moon. A parallel of their canon talk happens and oh would you look at that, KC’s accidentally Dad-ed his way into a redemption arc of his own! (No dead Bloodmoon means Sun doesn’t McFreaking Lose It, which means Lunar doesn’t move out and get killed, and also means the magic circle isn’t destroyed, which means Moon doesn’t get stuck in his head and get his memories wiped! :D Huzzah!) (Sun is still in desperate need of therapy though)

Eclipse is, of course, rather indignant at this turn of events. He never like the Blood Twins or KC, but seriously? Just like that?! It’s almost insulting. Not to mention it screws up his plan (not that he’d had a chance to flesh out said plan yet anyway). He continues regardless, taking over Solar Flare’s body to... do something. I’ll admit, I haven’t exactly figured out what his new course of action would be. Regardless, he ends up making his own body and ditches Solar Flare without a second thought. Solar Flare, alone and deeply disturbed over having their body hijacked so easily, is at a loss for what to do when they stumble upon Earth! Or more accurately, she stumbles upon them. She comforts them and they go with her to the Daycare. (I also don’t know if Earth would have already joined the DCA crew or if she just shows up fashionably late with Starbucks Solar Flare. Both are funny; either she shows up as a stranger with another stranger like “yes hello I’m your new sister, also I decided to bring this vaguely traumatised stranger along with me, hope you don’t mind :)” or she goes for a walk and comes back with this stranger like “can we keep them? *puppy eyes*”) Thus, Solar Flare joins the family!

Honestly... despite everyone else getting redeemed/joining the family, I think it’s funniest if Eclipse stays a bad guy. Everyone else is learning about themselves and growing as individuals/family, meanwhile Eclipse is over there being a stubborn, petty, lonely bastard and refusing to acknowledge that the reason he is miserable everywhere he goes is because every time he goes somewhere, he is there. Also he creates the conflict needed for further plot to happen. Also also I don’t think he’d take the option of redemption if it was handed to him on a silver platter accompanied by a ten-page essay on why it’s the best choice for everyone, especially him. (But who knows! I guess it is possible, it would just be a lot of work. He’d have to really want to be better and put the work in. Even then, I imagine he’d probably end up going his own way. It’d be for the best after all the trauma he’s inflicted.)

The FUNNIEST pat of all of this is when Glamrock Freddy visits the Daycare to talk to Sun and Moon about something only to see Sun yelling and chasing Bloodmoon, who’s knocking over and destroying EVERYTHING, Lunar running after them playing the Benny Hill theme, Solar Flare robotically restacking the barrels one pile at a time (seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bloodmoon knocks them over again as soon as they turn their back, creating an endless cycle they don’t seem to question), Earth calling out for everyone to please not hurt themselves, and Moon just... sitting there, rubbing his temples. “... Hey Freddy,” Moon says, not looking up. “... What the heck is going on?” “Family bonding.” “Family- where the heck did all these people even come from?!” “It’s a long story.”

If you’ve read all this, thank you so much for hearing me out <3 I’ll admit, most of my thought processes behind this boil down to “I just think it’s neat” and “because I think it’s funny”. This is supposed to be just for fun, after all. Please tell me what you think! There’s SO MUCH more to this, from evolving family dynamics to specific character development and even Monty, this post is all just the basic set-up of how the gang got to where they are. I have SO MANY more thoughts about this setting, it’s a disaster and a half and I’d love to discuss it please give me an excuse to ramble more 

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 22

*Warning: Adult Content*   

In the week after receiving Elena's letter... ‘technically it was from her new husband's lawyer but Martin Hunter is not such a fool that he doesn't think she's the one behind it...’ his insomnia has returned and his appetite has vanished. 

If not for Skylar West, Martin doesn't know how he would have coped.

The beautiful art teacher steps up in more ways than Martin thinks he has any right to expect, helping with the kids and the house and keeping the single dad grounded and sane. 

After the first night, when Skylar had thought Martin had left the light on and instead found him seated at the dining table at 2 AM, staring into space with the letter in his hands, Skylar had taken Martin out to his bed and kept him there.

Martin has been sleeping with Skylar ever since... 

Once he'd convinced Martin that the kids were fine and that sleeping ten yards from the house did not amount to abandonment.

Though sleeping isn't all they do.

So far, they haven't progressed past hand jobs and frottage and Martin is grateful Skylar hasn't pushed for more. 

He doesn't want the young man to think he doesn't want him but he’s not in the headspace for anything more intense.

Meanwhile, besides the letter and all it entails, there are several more get-togethers with the family before everyone returns to their own lives. 

Every time Martin sees his parents and siblings, it feels like he’s entering a minefield, treading a careful line between not wanting to worry them and not wanting to keep secrets again, especially about Elena.

At the same time, he knows it will cause them distress and his older brother, Alpha Dane Hunter would probably go ballistic at the mere mention of Elena's name and so, for the moment, he keeps his troubles to himself.

Or, at least, he tries to.

"Is everything alright, Marty?" his mother, Astrid Hunter asks, resting a hand on his back. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Martin keeps his eyes on the red-headed woman until she's out of sight. 

She's not Elena but as his mother has unknowingly observed, he’s been seeing her metaphorical ghost everywhere.

Turning, Martin casts his mother a reassuring smile. 

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired."

She nods knowingly but her expression turns grim. 

"You were on your own for much longer than any of us realized, Marty, before that woman ever showed her true form. You don't know how happy it makes me to see you relying on someone else for a change, even if it isn't us."

They're sitting side-by-side on a stone bench, taking a little break while the kids, Skylar and his father continue to roam the aquarium and science center, which had been Flora and Miguel's choice of birthday outing. 

Martin’s eyes track Skylar as he points things out to Nico and Rio, holding their hands as they move from one tank of marine curiosities to the next. 

Flora and Miguel are with Martin’s father, Joseph Hunter and Martin frowns as he sees Miguel offer the older man his arm for support as they ascend to the second level of the aquarium, where, apparently, a dolphin feeding is about to begin.

"You're not the only one who feels guilty, you know," his mother says, seeming to read his mind. "You think your father and I would have been content to do nothing if we'd known how things really were for you?"

Martin shrugs. 

"Elena put on a good show."

"So did you," she says pointedly. "It's hard to trust a smile once you discover how long it's been hiding pain. So, no more secrets, alright?"

"I won't lie," Martin says and decides that he won't. 

If she asks about Elena, he'll tell her. 

Instead, she surprises him and asks about someone else.

"So, is it serious?" she nods at Skylar, who thankfully has his back turned at the moment.

"I'm not sure," Martin says honestly. "It's only been a little more than a month."

"He's a good one, though, right?"

Martin winces. 

His track record for such judgements isn't great.

"I think so," he says and smiles. "He's a prince."

 Astrid Hunter lifts her brows at him. 

"Of the Machiavellian or the Disney variety?"

"A literal prince," Martin says, laughing. "He's from somewhere called Thassos."

"Hmn. Never heard of it."

"Neither had I," Martin says. "He says it's a pretty small place."

Astrid Hunter chews her bottom lip. 

"You know, Martin, when someone claims to be a prince, suspicion is not unwarranted. He hasn't asked you to wire some money to a foreign bank account, or anything, has he?"

Martin rolls his eyes. 

“No, Mom. He didn't even want to tell me about his title or his family. He was worried it would change how I look at him."

Rather than be reassured by this, Martin sees his mother's misgivings intensify. 

She casts him a fond but pitying look, as if he’s a sweet but hopelessly untrainable pet.

"I admit he seems wonderful but you know what they say. When something seems too good to be true..." 

She pats his arm and sighs. 

"Just be careful, darling. Now, how about dinner? I'm hungry enough to eat a child. Not that I would," she adds, winking at the small boy ironically plastering sticky hand prints all over the glass right beside a 'Do Not Touch' sign.

Wide eyed, he runs to catch up to his family.

"You worry me, mom," Martin says, teasingly. "Sometimes I think you like to play the big bad wolf."

She stands and brushes off the seat of her pants. 

"I only play that game with your father."

“Ew.”

Laughing, they rejoin the others but Martin’s mother's words of warning stay with him, having settled down to nest at the back of his mind.

                                                       ***

In keeping with the marine theme, Flora and Miguel choose sushi for their birthday dinner, much to Nico and Rio's dismay. 

Thankfully, the restaurant has a robust kid's menu and at Skylar's encouragement, they make a few braver choices as well.

Martin is ready to foot the bill, as his parents and Skylar are guests, after all.

He watches with growing trepidation as the number of dishes and drinks pile up. 

By the time everyone has had their fill, Martin is sweating a little and not from the spicy shrimp. 

When the waiter brings the check, however, Skylar snatches it smoothly before Martin has the chance to extend his hand.

"Allow me," he says and deftly pulls out his wallet, slips three bills into the slim black book and hands it back. 

He does this so quickly Martin doesn't have time to protest but he’s pretty sure he glimpses more than two $100 dollar bills.

Seeing Martin’s frown, Skylar winks at him and lifts his glass of sake in a toast. 

"To Flora and Miguel," he says. "May your futures be bright and your wishes come true. Happy birthday."

Everyone joins in with a chorus of ‘Happy birthday’ as they down the last of their drinks and as they rise from the table, Martin feels his heartstrings twinge. 

In a few more hours, it will be time to say goodbye.

Martin’s parents had extended their stay, not wanting to miss Flora and Miguel's big day but they'll be catching a flight home in the morning.

If there's one thing the Hunter children miss from their old life, it's seeing their grandparents. 

Joseph and Astrid Hunter have hinted that they might move out here and join their son, Dane Hunter's pack, dissolving the last ties to their land and home, having gifted its sovereignty to the Fae. 

On the one hand, Martin hopes they do, as he knows they'd be happy here, on the other, he feels partly responsible for the loss of their ancestral territory and he knows it will pain his parents to give up its stewardship. 

When you run the same trails and walk the same tracts of earth, when you know every rock and tree and the songs of the wind in the grass and all the colors of a certain patch of sky, when you've become part of the land, leaving it is like losing a part of yourself.

Outside the restaurant, everyone stretches and groans but no birthday dinner would be complete without dessert. 

As they walk down the street towards a specialty ice-cream shop, Martin’s cell-phone buzzes with an incoming call. 

He recognizes Dr. Meyer's number and waves the others on as he hangs back to answer it.

Doctor Emmeline Meyer had been their family doctor since before Martin was born and the first thing he'd done after Skylar suggested a paternity test was to contact her. 

She had a vast network of associates and acquaintances whom she trusted to treat unusual patients, like people whose DNA might not appear entirely human.

"A paternity test, eh?" she asks, her gravelly, no-nonsense voice having grown a little wispy with age. "What kind of trouble you gone and got yourself in now, Marty?"

"Just the same old trouble I've always had," he says, smiling at her rustic but effective bedside manner. "Nothing new."

"That bitch again? What's she up to this time?"

Martin glances up to where Skylar is holding the door of the ice-cream shop for his parents, the children having already bolted inside. 

He waves and Martin waves back, pointing apologetically at his phone. 

Skylar salutes him playfully and follows everyone else into the store, while Martin offers a silent prayer to the goddess of good sense that his parents don't let the kids go too wild with their choices of dessert.

Keeping his voice low and conscious of other people on the street, Martin gives Dr. Meyer the relevant details.

"Hmm, I see," she says and Martin imagines her nodding her wizened head and scratching out a note on an old prescription pad. 

Fortunately, she's kept up with the times. 

"Paternity tests involve comparing genetic markers between a potential father and child or children, in this case. Takes a specialized lab and given what you are, you'll need someone who'll know what they're looking at. Lucky for you, I know a few people. I'll send you a list."

"Thanks, Dr. Em."

"Meanwhile, I like to think I'm not just a family doctor but a family friend. You're not tryna deal with this all on your own, are ya? I know things were tough after all the shit went down last year but you got people who love you, Marty. You know that, right?"

"I do," he says and lets her hear the smile in his voice. "Don't worry, I'm not alone at all."

Martin: ‘A few weeks ago, if you had asked me if I could see myself being in a relationship again, I'd have said not in a million years. And yet, day by day, the more it seems like a relationship is exactly what I'm in. It took me by surprise, not because it was sudden but because it happened so naturally and gradually that I barely noticed it but I can no longer deny my feelings for Sky. I get butterflies in my stomach and a funny feeling in my chest, a good feeling for once, every time our eyes meet. It's cliche but he's become my anchor and my haven in the storm and I'm beginning to have trouble imagining a future without him in it.’

"All right," Dr. Meyer says, jolting me from my reverie. "I'll send you the list. And don't worry, I take doctor-patient confidentiality seriously, even when I've known the patient's parents longer than the patient's been alive."

With a last parting exchange, Martin hangs up and starts walking towards the ice cream shop, when another thought occurs to him. 

Pausing, he pulls out his cell-phone again and opens the browser.

He might not be as proficient at research as their honorary pack librarian, Grace but he knows how Google works. 

After 'Thassos' turns up nothing but sites related to the a Greek island Skylar had mentioned and 'The Kingdom of Thassos,' brings up the same, Martin feels sweat break out across his brow.

Surely, an independent country with a monarchy would merit a top result?

He delves into the wilds of pages 2, 3 and 4 nonetheless, going deeper into a results list than he ever has before and yet turning up nothing of relevance.

Maybe 'Thassos' is his country's name for itself and internationally it's called something else. 

Still, a search for 'Nihon' or 'Nippon' will still bring up Japan.

Pocketing his phone again and taking a few deep breaths, Martin wipes a hand over his damp brow. 

There has to be an explanation. 

Martin: ‘As soon as we are alone, I'll ask Sky and he will give it to me. That, at least, is what I have to believe.’

[graftisms]

CALLIE & ANGEL — DAY THIRTY-TWO

location :    morning / bedroom

featuring :    @dobits

ANGEL

it's one of those mornings where angel doesn't wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed, seemingly taken on some of callie's innate exhaustion from the night before. he's happy to be here, for sure, but there's the distinct awareness that there's a whole lot of shit waiting for them outside this bed. so both arms curl around her little spoon to squish her closer against his chest when the blinding studio-grade lights turn on and the other islanders start milling about. "morning," he yawns into her hair, eyes buried away from the light. a deep hum settles him into consciousness, he makes to pull the comforter up over their heads for some semblance of privacy or else some darkness. "how'd you sleep?" 

CALLIE

last night was the first time she let angel hold her the whole night, draped around her like a security blanket. she needed it, after the emotional minefield that was the recoupling, paired with her living room chat with frankie afterwards. it was nearly bedtime by the time it had ended, and she was grateful for that, optimistic that a new day would be the fresh start she needs. it's hard to feel so optimistic now, with the light of the bedroom blinding her awake. she's grateful that angel tugs the covers over them before she can reach for her sunnies, not ready to be social with the others yet.  "morning," she mumbles back, turning herself around so she can face him, only to bury her head in his chest. "really well, actually." so well that she's tempted to go back to sleep, producers be damned. "how about you?"

ANGEL

"good," he answers, muffled with his lips against the crown of her head. "gonna keep sleeping. all day, maybe." even the sarcasm is entirely out of character. by now he should've already meditated, worked out. should be drinking a smoothie and bringing callie coffee right about now, but it's a whole new villa out there and she's managed to instill some fear in him after their chat yesterday on the loungers. "mm, gotta go talk to dylan though," he reminds himself, some optimistic excitement in that. actively ignores that he's gonna need to talk to frankie, too. he smiles, pulls back an inch to see if he can get a look at her face. "the girl he brought back seems sweet."

CALLIE

"you feeling okay?" she pulls back far enough to look up him, keeping her arms loosely around his waist. callie would be lying if she wasn't a little worried about he's doing with everything, feeling guilty for throwing him to the wolves last night while she caught up with dylan and had her talk with frankie. it's not like she thinks angel can't make friends without her, but he's been such a steady support system for her through all of this just by being here, that she wants to do the same for him. a smile breaks out on her face when he says he's going to meet dylan, leaning in for a quick kiss. "yeah, she does. i think." it's hard not to sound a little reluctant, with dylan's track record. "i should probably talk to her this morning too. what that other bombshell said about her was weird, don't you think?"

ANGEL

"kinda," he chuckles lowly, combing her hair back off her face. people are moving from their own beds around them, but shrouded beneath the covers, he's under the illusion they're the only ones in the villa. "i'm happy you kept me," angel clarifies, the corners of his mouth uptick in a smile. "but it's just like it's the first day where it's... like, it's not just about talking shit with jude or swimming some laps or following you around like i've been doing so far. now there's... stuff." it's all less laid back than it was yesterday, but his disposition still reads mostly optimistic. "just the nerves, y'know." as soon as he leaves this bed it'll all melt right off, he'll leave it behind in the security of their space. "so fucking weird," he agrees, brow furrowing thoughtfully. "honestly, it went right over my head. but, i mean, she was on her way out, maybe she was just sayin' shit, y'know? gonna have to suss the girl out yourself."

CALLIE

"yeah, i get that," she nods slightly, her head shifting on the pillow. "it's kinda weird for everyone being back, just so many people here now. i can't imagine how you guys must be feeling, with all these randos." it's funny calling islanders like marcus and even her brother randos, lips twitching into a small smile. her conversation with frankie is still weighing on her shoulders, more than she had hoped, but the burden doesn't feel nearly as heavy when she's with angel. "i'm glad you're here, really." reaching up, she traces his jawline lightly with her thumb. "yeah, i guess," she sighs, but doesn't totally believe it. "i'm definitely gonna suss her out. it's hard, because i really want a win for him, but he hasn't been the most careful around here." she lowers her voice as she says it, the shuffle of people from outside their cocoon reminding her where exactly they are. "at least your bestie is here still," she adds with a smirk, steering the conversation off her brother.

ANGEL

"nah, the more the merrier." and he actually means it, thinks that he'd get along with all of 'em no problem. the real issue is the minefield of drama the villa seems to have turned into, mostly in the fear of bringing up the wrong name to the wrong person. it's not unlike the current moment, his lips stretching into a reluctant smile. "i talked to miles." the real sentiment is indicated in his tone -- and the guy's super fucking cool. head nods against the pillow, his own voice a murmur. "he'll figure it out. like, as long as he doesn't relapse to naomi, he's golden." 'cause as much as he loves that girl, he expects her focus is elsewhere. callie's little smirk is met with angel's big, goofy grin. "yeah, big shock, huh? you know he knows adela? like... knows adela. that's what he thinks, anyway. her, too."

CALLIE

miles is quite literally the last name callie would like to hear in her bed right now, a fun reminder of both dylan and frankie gassing the guy up to her last night. what, now he's already reached angel? the bloke works fast. callie can't believe she's thinking it, but she'd rather have him be friends with jude. but of course she won't say any of it, just nods and averts her gaze, watching her fingers glide across on his skin. "i don't think he's gonna relapse to naomi," she says, before hesitating. "—i hope not, at least." it'd make things hard for callie if they're breaking up for good, but it'd be ten times harder to watch if dylan stayed stuck in that drama. "what?" the mention adela makes her eyes snap over to his, eyebrows raise high. "no he doesn't." but even as she says it, it's clear she believes it, just doesn't want to. the laugh that comes out of her mouth doesn't sound quite human, having to slap her hand over her mouth. at least she's no longer thinking about miles. "he's such a slut," she stage whispers, once she's removed her hand, eyes crinkling in amusement.

ANGEL

the silence almost fills in the expletives in itself. she's doing that thing where she gets in her head and this whole situation - the frankie and miles of it all - are unfamiliar enough to angel that he can't tell what she's thinking. if it's irritation or sadness or if she just doesn't care to acknowledge it. so he sighs, short, but patient, and lets the moment pass him by. "guess we'll see what she does today." because it does kinda feel like naomi exerts a shaky control of her dynamics and, really, he can't wait to go and prod her for inside gossip. head nods repeatedly, only partly restraining a snort, and he presses his fingers over her's as if to help reign in her laugh. all for naught, considering it triggers his own breathless chuckles. "i know," he exhales, hushing her playfully. "it's wild. i thought he was gonna be done with the fucking drama." whispers trail off, angel shrugs. "but maybe you should mention that to dylan. 'cause, i dunno, it's jude. i could totally see him, like, throwing a wrench into dylan and adela's thing without even really meaning to, mr. magoo style." or, just as likely, actively meaning to.

CALLIE

"i know they talked last night," she says, knowing that around the time her and frankie were going at it, naomi and dylan were probably doing the same. hopefully not as volatile as her conversation had been, but she can only assume not, knowing dylan. things have felt so good with naomi since they made up in casa, but callie recognizes that when it comes to her and dylan, she doesn't think she'll be the one that naomi wants to open up to. so it's a good thing naomi and angel are friends, so someone can actually keep her updated on what the hell is going on with her. callie's face smushes together when he touches her hand, but she does reign it in, especially at the realization that yeah, she's going to have to tell dylan about this. "yeah, i'll probably talk to him this morning about everything," she sighs. fuckin' jude. there's a complaint on the tip of her tongue, but callie is back to being on her best behavior when it comes to him. angel has to deal with all her frankie drama; the least she can do is get along with his closest mate. eyeing him for a moment, callie pauses before asking, "we're good, yeah?" they feel fine, a much needed normal start to a new day, but it's hard not to feel a little self-conscious, given everything going on with her. there's no cameras on them beneath the covers, so any mention of frankie will probably need to be restated later,  but she doesn't even know where to begin with that. how much or little he wants to hear. she'd almost rather he ask. "what are you thinking about?" she asks instead.

ANGEL

"oh." and there's some indication of finality, or as much as the nature of the villa can lend.  they talked last night and now... and now? who knows, probably. angel's interested to find out the story directly from naomi, probably a different version than the one callie got from her brother. and, really, he's doing olympic-worthy somersaults to avoid comparing the situation to callie and frankie. makes it a bit harder to stick the proverbial landing when she asks point blank if they're good. "no," he answers, managing not to smile as he shakes his head, the tip of his nose grazing against her's. "actually, i'm so mad. we got a big problem." it's a deadpanned sarcasm derived from the humor in the idea that he could blame her for having any kinda bad feelings about last night, about the state of things. a long inhale buys him some time to decide how he wants to convey his thought, pulls himself back from her a bit, his hand pushing flyaways off his face. "i'm... i dunno, i guess i'm wondering how you're dealing with this. i want you to be okay. and i want...," exhale, he pauses to find the right words, forms them quietly from under their blanket, "i wanna be part of this, y'know? 'cause i know that was the big thing for you. you wanted to keep me separate, didn't want me to be dragged into whatever shit was waiting for you here, but, like, i am here, callie. and -- you didn't come to me after you talked to her last night." it's difficult to broach because he's not upset, just concerned. and it feels like he's saying too much, filling in the silence with his shit when it's what she should be doing. "i don't need you to protect me from what's happening. i wanna be here for it. i want you to tell me what you're thinking."

CALLIE

his sarcasm doesn't make her feel better, probably because he's pulling away from her only moments later, taking a deep breath that makes her heart sink. if he's going to put some space between them, then she'll do the same, shifting away a bit so she can tuck her hands under her head on the pillow. callie's quiet as she lets his words sink in, wishing they weren't cocooned in a blanket so she could look anywhere else except him without it being obvious. instead she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to zen herself from going back to the place she had been last night. she had thought airing her grievances out with frankie would make her feel better, but instead she felt worse, like some kind of vindictive megabitch who wanted to hurt her. she hadn't meant to, but she also hadn't gone easy on her, either.  "last night was hard," she admits finally, opening her eyes to peer back at him anxiously. "i don't want you to think i didn't come to you because of you. i know you're here, but... you shouldn't have to deal with that." her crying over someone else. she feels guilty enough, with angel being so understanding about it all, looking at her in a way that's completely different than how frankie looked at her last night. but there was once a time when frankie had looked at her with softness too; she wants his warm opinion of her to stay warm.  "everything's just so new between us," she adds quietly, words tumbling out, "and i like the way we are. but i also know that i can come off too strong, and this situation doesn't make it any easier, and i don't want it to affect us. i'm trying not to scare you away." she says the last part with a lightness in her voice, though it doesn't reach her eyes. really, the whole frankie situation makes callie feel like a burning building, and angel would be smart to evacuate. part of her is still waiting for him to realize it.

ANGEL

all of a sudden it feels like the tiny bit of space that squeezed between them has turned into a long expanse, a dubious sea of pronouns that still manages to omit the most prevalent of all: her. "i wanna deal with it," angel murmurs despite the distinct knowledge that it's not so simple. more than that, she's probably right. "i get if you needed, like... your friends, not --," shoulders shift against the mattress, struggling to fill in the expletive. your partner? suitor? man? whatever decisive label they want to avoid slapping on it. "but i just want you to know i'm on your team." it feels unfair. like he's collecting all these little bits of callie, the things that make up who she is, like they're plastic eggs at easter, but she's keeping one from him out of fear. has he given her a reason to doubt him? angel turns, picking himself up and tabling his body over her's, held up by both arms on either side of her shoulders, the blanket tenting around him. there's the vague hope that jude isn't around to see the movement under the covers and spout off some punchy indecorous quip or, worse, for someone to stick a mic under here with them. "everything is new between us," he starts, voice low. "this shit is gonna affect us 'cause it should. i want it to bring us closer, y'know? i wanna know about it 'cause i wanna know you. the stuff that's important to you. nothin's gonna scare me." tail-end of the sentiment is muffled as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, noses the curve of her jaw. a kiss is dropped against her pulse and then a smile starts to grow. "unclench, cal... and tell me about last night 'cause you know i'm dying to know."

CALLIE

"i know you are, really." she feels a little guilty he has to even remind her that he's on her team, because to her it's not even a question. "it's not like i went off afterwards to find someone else. i just... wanted to be alone," she admits, not wanting to share how much she had cried afterwards, more than was probably necessary for the situation. "i ran into charlene in the bathroom, but that's it. then it was time for bed." and he knows the rest, her slinking into bed silently and giving him some cuddles, promising they can talk more tomorrow. she was just tired, she had said, and it wasn't exactly untrue. her breath hitches when he moves on top of her, and she's certain of the way it probably between them right now. but the way his hair curtains down on him when he looks at her is enough to make her smile a little, reaching up to brush it out of his face gently. his words are kind and his tone and he fills her chest with butterflies, but she can't help but think that he's wrong, too. "i don't want my past relationship to be the thing that brings us closer together,"  she says, looking up at him. "that's not fair to you. i don't want this to end up looking or feeling like some kind of rebound, because it's not. if you want to ask about it, i'll tell you whatever you want to know, because i get you're a part of it. but you don't have to white knight me. the fact that you're still here means enough."

arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to bring him closer, wanting nothing more than to squeeze him like she'd do a teddy bear, until she no longer hurts as much. neck stretching a bit to give him more space in the crook of it, she finally sighs. "it was terrible," she admits, voice small. "i knew what i was going to say. how i heard about the naomi thing, which opened me up to pursuing other things, and then the postcard just confirmed that i did the right thing. but it got heated, which i don't think she expected, and i didn't expect to feel as angry as i was. i basically threw four days worth of emotional stewing at her, and she was defensive the whole time." there's more to it, of course, but she won't get into how frankie flaunted her new relationship in callie's eyes, making her feel like she was nothing more than a transition for frankie. "she called me mean," she sniffs, eyes closing for a few breaths. "and i was. i was so mean. i was right, but i was still mean." her voice shakes because it's not easy to admit, especially to him. she doesn't want him to see her like that. "i know you can find it hard to believe..." she deadpans, meeting his eye with a hesitant smile.

ANGEL

ever stubborn, callie contraries his point and angel can't even manage to be annoyed. he knew she'd have some kind of argument, however gentle or insistent, and the warmness of familiarity curls up in his chest like a contented cat. maybe they really don't need dealing with the walking trauma of frankie to bind them together, maybe they've done it all their own. "rebound," angel repeats in a soft, scoffed laugh. there's no way anybody that knows callie would think she'd even be capable of it. "nobody's thinkin' that. and - shit - they better not. i grafted my ass off for days to get your attention, i totally earned the credit." light hearted, a stab at levity. it's hard to watch her try and shuck off the mess from last night, all he wants is a clean slate for them both. 

it's not any easier just to be buried in his neck. her throat bobs against his nose, the voice that comes out is as painful to hear as he imagines her face is to look at right now. his thumb grazes her cheek, back and forth, as she speaks. "did you get any answers from her? or, like... clarity? anything?" closure, most of all, but to say as much feels like an expression of selfishness coming from him. as far as he can tell, things have just opened right back up. there's something so heart wrenching about the way callie says mean, like it's the worst possible thing frankie could have called her. it has angel pulling back with a frown, wants to look at her face. "you were feeling emotional and wronged and... yeah, no one's gonna blame you for that. she thinks you're mean 'cause you're not saying anything she wants to hear." he's sure it would've been a whole lot easier for frankie if callie had been like hey, no worries, thanks for the memories. it just doesn't work that way when people actually put their feelings into a relationship. the sentiment does earn a smile though, pinches her cheek. "you aren't mean... hard headed, for sure, but not mean."

CALLIE

at the end of the day, callie's not really the type of person to care the opinion of others. she had learned early enough in life that everyone is going to try to share their two pence, whether wanted or not, and it doesn't pay to try to pander to anyone else. so it's not other people that callie's worried about when she brings up rebounds as much as she is anxious about what angel thinks. he may so far live up to his namesake, suspiciously too good about all of this, but unless he has the confidence of a narcissist, it'd be impossible for him to not be a little rattled. but if he's going to laugh it off, god knows she's not going to push it, instead rolling her eyes lightly. "okay. it was, like, two days. you could've had it much harder," she chastises him, warmth spreading in her chest at how normal some things can still feel when talking to him.

granted, his questions about frankie don't make that feeling last long. "define clarity," she says slowly, mind reeling at last night's conversation. "well, she basically told me she forgot the naomi thing even happened, because it didn't mean anything to her, in just a really dismissive way. i called her out on it after, and she apologized, but..." it's not very sincere, if you have to convince someone something is worth apologizing over. "she also said she brought him back because she wanted to continue getting to know both of us," callie snorts, feeling a familiar flash of irritation at the reminder. "i told her i wasn't interested, and that i feel sorry for her new guy, that she brought him back to be an option." though the reality is it's hard to feel much of anything for miles, considering he's a stranger to her. when angel looks back at her callie's reminded of one of the many reasons why she likes him, a sincerity in his gaze that's hard to come by around here. it's because of that that callie believes there's truth to what she says, even if he doesn't know the whole situation. by now, he knows enough—if not about her and frankie, then about her. "i'm pretty sure other people in the villa would argue with you about that," she admits, thinking about seb and jenny, "but i appreciate it. i'm just annoyed at all of it. i'm annoyed at myself, for letting my anger get in the way." and despite knowing he wanted to hear about it, callie's annoyed at herself, feeling like she's harping on it. "sorry," she sighs, forehead resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "i told you this wasn't going to be fun."

ANGEL

“clarity,” he repeats thoughtfully, only vaguely like he’s in a spelling bee. “understanding. like, get a little peace maybe.” given the vibes, he’s guessing not so much. or maybe, with the brutal context frankie’s apparently besmirched onto her last night, she’s now chock full of conviction. he can only hope. “you’re fucking kidding,” angel laughs humorlessly. he takes a beat to put himself in those shoes, imagine callie foolin’ around with jude and then saying she forgot, that it wasn’t a big deal. he’d fucking walk. brows raise, genuinely surprised frankie would admit she still wants to keep her options open to callie even though he’d half expected as much. he feels the pang of wariness clench at his stomach. “yeah… i mean, that’s fucked up for him. he’s really feelin’ her, and it’s not like…,” not like he did anything wrong. angel shrugs off the sentiment, can’t imagine it’s at all what she wants to hear now. “i can’t believe she thought she’d still be able to get to know you. the girl’s got balls.”

lips press together against his smile, pretending to keep a cool collectedness. “well, i’d argue back. i could show ‘em mean.” the expectation is that it’s probably laughable to imagine angel angry, but it’s not as shocking as a concept as the times callie’s resorted to frustration. a memory of the night during casa by the pool chimes in his head, when the girls had been passively arguing and callie stomped inside for the towels. even then he’d thought she was the most interesting little tantrum-haver. “nah, i dunno how you would’ve gotten through that without losing your temper at least a little. especially when somebody doesn’t get why you’re acting like that, like doesn’t see they did something wrong… it’s hard.” there’s few things as lonely as not being understood, especially by the one who’s supposed to be your partner. angel hums a chuckle. “it’s day by day, right? matter fact, let’s just take it hour by hour. but first… we are gonna have to get up.” and face the music. he slowly pulls the covers back down around his shoulders, eyes squinting against the soundstage lighting. “we’ll have fun today, ‘kay? me and you. a swim or something.”

CALLIE

she does feel a little better talking to angel about it, surprisingly. callie didn't realize how badly she needed the validation that she wasn't wrong until he basically says as much, smile small but not entirely genuine. "yeah, she's out of her mind," she shakes her head. it's hard not to think about what would've happened if callie hadn't learned about the naomi stuff, if she had spent all of casa waiting for someone who'd bring back a second option anyway. the thought of it makes her adrenaline kick back up again, and despite how shitty things are now, she's grateful for the way things have gone. right now, she'd rather be laying here with angel than anything else. "do you even know how to be mean?" she teases, hands moving down to poke at his abdomen. "i feel like you take your name too literally sometimes, you know." she's tempted to ask what the worst thing he's ever done has been, but she's distracted by the light that comes from him pulling the covers down, immediately making her groan. "do we have to?" her asks, voice muffled from her face still pressed into his chest, trying to shield herself until her eyes adjust to the light. eventually she pulls back, moving her hair out of her face to peer up at him, nodding at the offer. "i have some people i should check in on, but i want us to spend as much time as possible today. i'm gonna make breakfast, i think i owe charlene after last night," she makes a face. hands resting on his shoulders, callie wiggles herself into she's sitting up more, leaning forward to brush her lips against his in a kiss that makes it clear she doesn't care about morning breath. "can you just... do me a favor?" her voice is quiet when she finally pulls away a few inches, just enough to meet his eyes. "if this starts becoming too much for you, or not fun anymore, i need you to let me know. we're both gonna be honest, right?"

ANGEL

“of course i do,” he snorts, muscles tensing against the prodding of her fingers. “trust me, i’m plenty capable of fucking up.” angel means it in a general way, but it comes out feeling too specific, can feel the ashes of a whole ‘nother conversation kindling alight. it doesn’t feel like the time to unveil any skeletons in their respective closets, hadn’t really been a fan of it the first time around when he’d been exposed as a cheater. they’ll come to it eventually, he figures. he definitely doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression that he’s perfect. for now he laughs lightly, a deep rumble from his chest and squeezes her in. “mmm, eggs sound good… yeah, i gotta cuddle jude now,” he sighs into a smile, acknowledging the shuffling of jude’s feet from somewhere nearby in the villa, probably biding his time before he crawls into the empty spot callie leaves behind. angel begrudgingly lets her push herself up, takes her kiss with hooded eyes. “mhm,” he agrees, mostly distracted. learning what he’s promised makes him a little more lucid. he nods quietly at first, arms slipping up her sides. for all their disclaimers and radical honesty, angel wants to leave room for optimism. “i can do that… as long as you do me a favor. don’t count on that happening, okay?”

CALLIE

"oh, i'm sure you are," she cracks a smile, wrinkling her nose back at him. callie certainly hadn't meant to imply that, the weight of the information about his last relationship still too real, not something she can physically think about with all the frankie drama swirling in the air. hard to believe that was only a day and a half ago. she does make a note to bring it up at some point soon, still wanting to know what she's getting herself into before getting too invested—but then angel laughs, and flashes her one of his goofy smiles, and she realizes it's a little too late for that. "you have to, do you?" she snorts, shaking her head. maybe she should make some eggs for jude... no, she's not there yet. baby steps. the look on his face after kissing her just makes her want to do it again; it'd be so easy to just spend the rest of the day kissing in bed, drama and television show be damned. swallowing at his words, she holds his gaze for a moment before nodding, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before tapping him on the arms to let her get up. "don't take too long with your boyfriend, otherwise breakfast is gonna get cold." and just because he's so bloody good, she'll be making bacon with those eggs.

[resmarted]

someone asked how i deal with all the psychos online spending their precious time observing my every move and posting thinly veiled commentary about me and it’s like idk man i am very used to being excluded from tables i wouldn’t be caught dead sitting at in the first place and i don’t really pay attention to it when i do happen to stumble across it. it helps that i have decades of experience being attacked by the most mid people ever who couldn’t put themselves out there the way i do if their lives depended on it nor would they have the charisma to keep any interest beyond their fleeting looks. if you were me you would have given up and killed yourself years ago but fortunately for both of us you could never survive this life nor would you be able to handle it with the magnitude that i have. this isn’t bragging it’s just what it is. i’ve seen people destroyed over a lot less. it could be a combo of boot camp-like experiences growing up in social minefields and an inbox full of rape and death threats that became instant smash hits when i turned it into standup many years ago. you really have to just be aware of how cringeworthy other people are without even realizing it and who are unable to grasp your own meticulously executed style of cringe that goes like, way way over their heads, like to an embarrassing degree. and that’s fine. you’re not supposed to be for everyone and if you are then you’re likely a shitshow to have to experience. i am not saying i’m immune to being affected or having my feelings hurt but i am definitely well built for what is ultimately punches being thrown at the air. like, who cares? do you even want to be like any of these people that form opinions on you from afar? the odds are very slim. if my life were ever at any point remotely normal i could maybe be in a position to give normal advice on this but when you’re essentially from another planet, most people won’t get you, at least not until like, way later. by the time they catch on it’s kind of too endearing to hold any hard feelings against them. but again, this is a theme in my own life that has stretched on for decades now and holds no bearing on how you should operate. i think the best thing anyone can ever do is to stop paying attention to someone the second you get the slightest inkling they’re a snake in the grass. it continues to work for me and i’m thriving, baby. plus it’s always someone that you are not at all surprised would spend their time ruminating over your life. people kind of show themselves very easily and it’s almost never someone you would actually be offended by not liking you. at worst it’s someone you thought was cool and they proved you wrong and now you know better, but more often than not it’s people you don’t know or care to know and never will really need to investigate further. anyway, what’s it like being relatively normal? it honestly seems way harder and i’m not kidding.