#i called out preemptively for tomorrow because i know i won’t be feeling good still

[dastardlydyke]

sigh…yearning hours

[gretagerwigsmuse]

rocketman: part i - it's just my job five days a week

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is on a three month special detachment in the pacific and the holidays have never felt lonelier for either of you. it's just three months, it'll be fine, right?

OR you and bradley write each other 159 emails

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley needs to remember this is a government email server...(okay yes, i am perfectly aware that our esteemed lieutenant commander would probably get kicked out of the navy for some of these emails…that being said, i also don’t particularly care! we’re playing fast and loose with the time stamps too because i may be smart, but math has never been a strong suit of mine!) enjoy the companion playlist! rest of the series can be found here!

12/17 @ 6:19am

I miss you already and I haven’t even left the parking lot. I’m still in my car typing this after having stayed for probably far too long watching your C-40 take off (like people were staring at me I was there so long)(and, yes, I looked up the name of the plane). Pete asked me if I wanted to get breakfast with him, but I said no. Felt too lost. Plus, I need to get ready for work. We’re going to get dinner on Wednesday before I head up to Berkeley Thursday morning, though!

Hope you have a safe transport and settle onboard quickly. I left you something in your duffle bag (yes, it’s safe to open around other people…head out of the gutter, Bradshaw).

Love you and stay safe, x

12/18 @ 5:46pm 

Just dropped off the gifts at the Junior League for Caroline’s adopt a child thing. She was completely in her element (they gave her a clipboard and a bullhorn!), though she did say we went wayyy too over the top. But little Carter asked for all that stuff! We couldn’t just not get it all for him? She also appreciated your wrapping skills, very impressed with the bows and tight corners. I met a couple of her friends there, which was nice and they invited me to stay for drinks (the prosecco was flowing…), but I wanted to head home. 

I miss you so much already, it feels weird not going over to your place after work and making dinner and prepping lunch together - and it’s only been two days. I know you’re on a comms blackout for the next couple days, so I’m just gonna keep sending these so you’ll have a bunch to read all at once.

All my love, x

12/19 @ 11:48am

My brother and Lauren decided to come out here for Christmas after all! My dad was so excited when he called me, but I think Mary’s a little less enthused. Feels like shit knowing we were the backup option for them. Apparently, Lauren’s mom is sick and the whole house is in disarray (not hard in that family…) so my dad is paying for them to fly in from New York tomorrow. I think it’ll be nice, we’ll almost have a full set (baring you, of course, my darling rocketman), so the house won’t be as lonely. Do you think we’ll get to talk on Christmas or Christmas Eve? You should be getting a package soon (‘twas preemptively sent!) and are under strict orders not to open it until Christmas Eve, buddy!

Going to dinner with Pete tonight, I’ll let you know how it goes. Amelia’s coming with us, but I don’t know about Penny? I hope they like the gifts we got them. I’m going to stop by your place, do a once over, and make sure the tree is ready for Pete to take, etc. before I leave on Thursday.

Love you and talk soon! x

12/20 @ 7:03am

House looked good! In my seat on the plane. If my morals were shakier, I would 1000% have taken Max up on his offer to fly me up to Berkeley. But alas! Climate change is real and private jets account for 20x as many carbon emissions as commercial planes, so I am up at the ass-crack of dawn for this 7:15am flight. I’ll message you when I land, love you!

12/20 @ 9:04am

Just landed - easy flight. Now to find my dad in arrivals…

Love you, talk when you get the chance! x

12/23 @ 4:45am

Hey sweetheart! Back online and all settled in. I’m bunking with Payback and we actually have a pretty decent layout. He graciously offered to give me the bottom bunk, due to my ‘geriatric status.’ Honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have to sleep in the bunk room with the ensigns and rest of the crew. I forgot how noisy it is being on an aircraft carrier, which makes Payback’s snoring surprisingly pleasant. I’m glad he and Bob are with me. The rest of this squadron’s from Lemoore and Bob knows some of them. It’s interesting seeing him and Payback fly together, but they mesh really well.

Glad Mav is there to keep an eye on you. 

Okay, I had way too much fun picking out all those presents, so I really hope Carter loves them too. And please tell me you have a picture of Caroline yelling into the bullhorn? I can truly think of nothing scarier than Caroline Calloway ordering the young women of San Diego county around like Santa’s chief elf. And speaking of gifts, I loved my pictures. The one from the Christmas party is my favorite, did Fanboy take it? I saw him running around with his Pentax. When the hell did you have time to print it? I’ve got it hanging up in my bunk so I can see it every night. 

I still don’t understand why you don’t fly into Oakland instead of SFO? Like I get it, you’re not a Spirit or SW girl, but kid….it’s an hour and forty minute flight? Live a little. And I think it’ll be nice having your brother and Lauren around for Christmas. How many people do you think it’ll be? I always loved seeing Christmas Eves with large families in movies and stuff, all the chaos and whatnot? But it’s just gonna be you five Christmas Day? I’ve heard rumblings that I might be first in line for a Facetime on Christmas Eve, so save some time for me too, kid. I’ll let you know for sure in a couple days. 

Okay, think we’re all caught up now. Talk soon and love you so much,

Your Bradley

12/23 @ 9:08am

Bubs! I read your email four times since I woke up, I can’t stop smiling. I’m glad you’re all settled in - Reuben’s snoring and ageism aside haha. How’s the food? Do you want earplugs? A sleep mask? Are earplugs allowed for sleeping? What if you need to get up right away and you can’t hear? I could send you a white noise machine? Or is there a fear of hacking with that? I should’ve done more research on this before you left. Tell me if you need anything, I’ll send it out express! Oh, I’m just so happy to hear from you. Keep me posted!

Lots of love, x

12/23 @ 8:53pm

You and me, hot date tomorrow night at 11:45pst - don’t be late. (And look cute.)

Your Bradley

12/23 @ 8:55pm

I’ll be there 😉 Love you, x

12/25 @ 9:56am

Bradley Bradshaw you absolute sneak! How on Earth did you pull a Christmas miracle off!?! Mary said she had no clue, so I’m extremely impressed you got my dad to keep that secret!? I was totally not expecting another present from you? The cooking lessons and apron were more than enough - to say nothing about moving in together!?! I love the bracelet so much, you have no idea. I started crying when I opened it! Mary took a video, which I’m sure she’ll send you. God, Bradley? You didn’t have to do that! It’s perfect, it’s like we’re locked together. I’m gonna wear it everyday. Please email me later if you get the chance! 

(Also, Lauren looked really jealous 😉 my brother was sweating)

Love you and Merry Christmas Rocketman! x

12/25 @ 11:38am

Ummm, not sure what you’re talking about, kid? That sounds like something Santa would do? Probably heard about how good you’ve been this year? x

12/25 @ 11:40am

Thank you, I love it so much and wish I could give you the biggest hug and kiss right now. I’ll have an extra slice of babka for you tonight, talk soon and Merry Christmas, Bradley! Love you x

12/27 @ 4:49am

I miss sleeping next to you. Whenever I can’t sleep, I think about the way you looked at me in the living room after our Christmas party. You looked so happy and I hate that I have to leave you for all our firsts. First Christmas, first New Year’s, first Valentine’s Day. And god, sweetheart, you’re so fucking gorgeous it makes me want to lose my mind sometimes. Always thinking about you, Bradley 

12/27 @ 8:38am

I miss sleeping next to you, too (especially since your body is like a furnace and you hold me close when I get cold). And I know you being away during the holidays is hard, but look at it this way - we’ll just have our firsts next year. Next year will be our first Christmas, first New Year’s, first Valentine’s Day together, not an ocean apart. We have all the time in the world, rocketman. Love you today and every day x

12/29 @ 6:02pm

There’s already so many things I’m dying to tell you and stories about the squadron we’re teaming up with, but the Navy will have my ass if I give away too many details so I’m just going to leave it at this: are we sure Max doesn’t have a twin on another continent? Take that as you will. What’re your plans for New Year’s? Your Bradley

12/30 @ 9:20am

Sorry for the delayed response! A minor issue with my brother and my dad that I won’t bore you with had the whole house in a tizzy. Thankfully, he and Lauren are gone even though my dad still won’t tell me what the issue was? Anyway! God, I wish I could hear more about Max’s twin? I am honestly kind of scared about knowing there’s a Max doppelgänger in the Navy (jokes!). For New Year’s, I’m going to this party with Mary and dad in the city, it’s at this fancy venue and I have a cute black dress! It’s very different for me and I wish you were here to see it! I’ll have to wear it again. Message me when it’s the New Year your time! Love you! x

01/01 @ 12:09am

Happy New Year, sweetheart! They had a little party for the officers - we even got cake and Bob snuck me and Payback seconds somehow. It’s always the quiet ones you gotta look out for. You absolutely need to send me pictures of you in that dress, I can’t wait to see it on you in person someday. Hope you have a great time with your dad and Mary, give them my best. Love you and again Happy New Year! 

Your Bradley

01/01 @ 12:01am

Happy New Year, Bradley!!! You got cake!! You broke some rules! I approve! Milk them for all the cake they’re worth! I’ll send some pics of the three of us and one just for you big boy 😉 Talk soon and love you so so much! x

01/01 @ 10:59am

Had a late start! Here are the pics from last night! Try and sneak some more cake xx

[mary_and_dad_being_annoying.jpg]

[me.jpg]

01/02 @ 6:12am

You know you labeled the pictures wrong…luckily no one was behind me…

01/02 @ 9:04am

Who? Me? I would NEVER! (Just trying to keep you on your toes.) Hope the flying is going well and you’re staying safe, B! Love you!

01/03 @ 8:00pm

Yeah, it’s going well. It’s so different flying on the open ocean after so long? Last time was in September when I went to Hong Kong. The desert is cool, don’t get me wrong, but seeing the clouds and the water together is unreal. The pink and purple clouds remind me of you (sorry, that was lame). You still gotta let me take you up, kid. I’ve heard Mav is trying to convince you, but you gotta let me be the one. Can’t trust just anyone with my girl. Love B

01/04 @ 10:13am

Bradley…he’s practically your father, I’m pretty sure you can trust him to take me up in a plane, you silly boy. Not that I’m saying you won’t be my first…but come on! And it’s not lame. I like that the pink and purple clouds remind you of me. Every time I see a plane I send a little call out for your safety. Gotta keep you safe, rocketman! Talk soon and love you! x

01/06 @ 4:45pm

My parents just dropped me off at the airport and no matter how many times I leave them, I always cry. I think the only time I didn’t cry when I left their house was when you were with me over Thanksgiving. You always make it better, bubs.

They’re coming down in a couple weeks to help me start packing, anything in the house you wouldn’t want them to see while dropping off boxes? I can still bring my old bed, etc for the guest room, right?

All my love, x

01/06 @ 9:58pm

I think I get that, having you around this time makes it different. I’ve never had anyone to really write to while I’ve been away before. Sure, I talked to my grandparents when they were still around and my aunts and uncles, Nat, Ice, and a couple others, but not like this. And I don’t ever want to not feel like this again. 

I’m an open book, kid. Ain’t got nothing to hide. And yeah, anything like that feel free to bring with you for the guest room or office. It was the bed, nightstands, and dresser and then your couch for the office, yeah? We can get new bedding and pillows for it if you want? I’m on comms blackout for a couple days, so message me whenever you want so I can read them all when we’re back online.

Your Bradley

01/06 @ 10:07pm

Perfect! Love you and stay safe, rocketman.

01/06 @ 10:09pm

Love you too, kid.

01/09 @ 6:11pm

Bradley, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there was a raccoon in your garage! Scratch that, a FAMILY of raccoons!??! I’m sure Mr Harrington was ready to call the cops when he heard my scream. They’re so cute, but also terrifying at the same time? So, I called Pete and he came right over, a true knight in shining armor! Amelia and I did a THOROUGH sweep of the house to make sure they were relegated to the garage. Pete got them out safe and sound with a random tennis racket and your 4 iron, but somebody’s coming tomorrow to check on how they got in there. And I know they aren’t hurting anyone, but I just don’t want there to be any issues later on? (The babies were actually so cute and reminded me of my cat growing up, Porter.) Anyway! Enough drama for tonight, I hope that gets a laugh out of you - talk soon!

Love you! x

01/10 @ 8:05am

Well, the exterminator got here around 7:30 and sprayed all this stuff and blocked the hole in the crawl space of the garage. He showed me pictures and let me tell you, there was quite the nest up there. These raccoons were living large over the holidays. 

01/12 @ 5:21pm

Okay! I’m in the parking lot, waiting for my first cooking class to start. Is it weird I’m a little nervous? I hope everyone else’s skill level is similar, I don’t like feeling behind. I brought my new apron, ironed it and everything. I feel a little like Ina Garten, isn’t she just divine? Okay, okay, I’m going in now! I’ll let you know how it goes! Thanks again for getting me these xx

01/12 @ 7:03pm

I feel so tired? Like my hand cramped a little bit? We started off the class with knife skills, which we’re going to do every week and then made this “simple” egg dish, which was NOT simple and I overcooked the egg. Ina would be so disappointed. Alas! Onto next week. Love you!

01/15 @ 9:12pm

Bradley you’re not going to BELIEVE what just happened on Succession. My heart is POUNDING? Do you think if I called and asked really nicely the Navy would get an HBO subscription for everyone? That is what I would like my tax dollars to go towards. Can you get me a direct line to someone in charge please? Love you!

01/16 @ 7:47am

Not to worry my little Barefoot Contessa, I have returned back to civilization (ie the internet), though am dismayed to have missed this mind blowing Succession episode? Has Perry Mason started back up again or will we be able to watch that together? 

Bob and I were in the gym earlier and he almost dropped a dumbbell on my foot, I swear my life flashed before my eyes. But I had a new PR on the bench press today, up to 285 pounds. Glad the cooking lesson went well though! What’s the class makeup like? x Bradley 

01/16 @ 9:04am

I’m glad you’re back online and safe! Perry Mason has not started yet, though I’m still certain you’re the only person under the age of 55 that watches it (I guess I should say we’re the only people under the age of 55 that watch it, but whatever). You’ve also missed a couple Top Chef episodes, but we can always binge this season later. 

There’s about 12 of us in the class and it’s pretty evenly split? Though there’s tragically this really annoying couple who were at the station next to me. I hope we get to change next week, I don’t think I can watch them feed each other food another week. 

And I’m still waiting for that direct line to the Navy, Bradshaw! Love you! x

01/1 6 @ 6:59pm

Wait, wait, how did I miss there? There was a WHAT in my garage? A raccoon? Multiple raccoons? We need to get a dog or a cat or something. x Bradley 

01/18 @ 7:02am

Bradley!! I know we talked about a trip once you got home (provided you still feel up for it with the transition and all), what if we went here? I was talking about our tentative plans with my dad and Mary before I went back to San Diego and they went to Punta Mita this past fall and LOVED it! What do you think? Love you!

01/18 @ 6:03pm

Holy shit! That looks absolutely amazing, yes I’d love to go! Can we afford that though? It looks expensive? xBradley

01/18 @ 6:05pm

YAY!! Ahh, I’m so excited you have no idea! I want to hug and kiss you so bad right now! We can fly for free since I have a bunch of AA points (thank you pwc) and then I have like a million Amex points, so it’s not full price!! 

01/18 @ 6:12pm

When you say ‘like a million’ do you actually mean a million or?

01/18 @ 6:14pm

Yes! I’ve had this card for like 15 years! My whole family does the pooling on it! It’s a drop in the bucket, promise! Plus, I always use my other card for work and that has a whole bunch of Bonvoy points on it, too. We could stay at one of those? I think there’s a St Regis next door?

01/18 @ 6:22pm

Sweetheart, I want to go, I just don’t want you to waste all those points on this. 

01/18 @ 6:26pm

What if we go for 6 nights instead of 9? Maybe no plunge pool? Or we could pay cash instead? And then I could get 6x the points from paying that way? So, really….the points just keep accumulating, we’ve got to use them sometime! The points can pay for the flights and the hotel and then we can split the room charges and incidentals 50:50?

Will you think about it? You don’t have to give me an answer right away and we can always pick another hotel? But if we want to go someplace in late March/early April, I think we should book soon with spring break and all? Not that I imagine many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, but you never know…

01/18 @ 6:33pm

You gotta send me a ppt on all this points stuff, you know math stresses me out. And no, I don’t think many coeds will be staying at the Four Seasons, kid. 

01/18 @ 6:37pm

Can I send you a dossier with everything!?! Even if you say no to that I’m doing it anyway ;) just promise me you’ll think about it, please? I’ll do whatever you want, Bradley <3

01/18 @ 6:40pm

Yes, please send the dossier my way henceforth, Moneypenny. 

And you’ll do whatever I want, huh? Might have to send you a dossier of my own now…

(But yes, I promise I’ll seriously consider everything. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to spend all this money to make me happy. I’d say we’d both be happy camping out on the beach, but I think that might be a security issue down there, plus neither of us like camping - anyway, you know what I mean.)

01/18 @ 6:43pm

Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!! Is this a dossier for my eyes only? What will M say!? I’ll send you mine if you send me yours?

(But seriously, thank you! I’ll send you more specifics tomorrow - like pricing and whatnot - and you can take a couple days to think it over. And thank you for clarifying the camping thing, I was worried for a second there.)

I love you so much rocketman and we’ll talk (email) tomorrow 

x Moneypenny 

01/18 @ 6:46pm

I’d say ‘sleep tight,’ but that’s a given considering you haven’t been fucked in a couple weeks. 

(Perfect, I genuinely am really excited about it, just want to make sure it works out for us both.)

Love you so much, kid 

Your Bradley

01/18 @ 6:58pm

Bradley Bradshaw!! You did not just say that over a government email server! 

Imissyourcocksobadlyit’sdrivingmeinsane

01/18 @ 7:01pm

Couldn’t help it. Plus, we both know it’s true. 

01/18 @ 7:04pm

Oh, shut up. Shut me up

01/18 @ 11:43pm

I’m sorry if I came off too strong about planning earlier, I might’ve gotten a little carried away and been a little too eager about planning something five days after you’re home from a three month detachment. If at any time before you come home or even right after you come home you don’t feel up to the trip, please please please tell me. I want to do something nice for you and give you a chance to truly relax, but I’d hate for it to come at a price. So, just let me know, okay? Say the word and we’ll push it, alright? I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, but tell me if it’s ever too much. I’ll always be here, promise. Love you x

[dossier_for_your_eyes_only.ppt]

01/19 @ 8:29am

Kid, no. I promise I’ll tell you. You know I love how excited you get planning things. I think I like it so much because you take care of it all. Sure, you ask for my opinion and what I want, but I just have to tell you one thing, one idea and you take care of it. 

Funny though, isn’t it? How it’s totally opposite in the other side of our relationship? You tell me one thing, one idea and I take care of all of it? Bet it’s hard for you not having someone around to do that for you? Maybe next time we Facetime we can talk more about that? x B

01/19 @ 10:11am

Luckily, I have a very creative imagination, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. 

See right now, I’m in my office, sitting at my desk, feeling so overwhelmed. It almost hurts how overwhelmed and frustrated I am. And you bust down the door, hair windswept like you’d flown to Del Mar, and you have that slutty flight suit on and I don’t even mind that you’re sweaty and gross. You smell absolutely divine and I rake my hands through your hair as you eat me out underneath my glass desk. I get a conference call, but you don’t stop the entire time. You like how squirmy and fussy I get, I can’t focus on the deliverable I’m working on for the client. You like that I can’t control myself, that I squeeze my thighs around your head. Eventually, you can’t take it anymore, your cock is aching so badly, and you need to fuck me on top of my desk. You’re so strong it almost breaks. You fuck me so good everyone in the office can hear me crying out for you. 

(actually, I’m on the couch, watching college football, but it’s more fun to imagine you fucking me in my office - see, creative imagination! Make sure you get a quiet room for that Facetime...)

Love x

01/19 @ 7:29pm

You think you’re funny, huh? You have any more of those thoughts, feel free to send them my way. ‘m taking out that picture you gave me for Christmas right now. How you taking care of yourself? My imagination isn’t as creative as yours. B

01/19 @ 7:40pm

Guess you’ll have to wait for our next Facetime…

x

01/20 @ 4:24pm

Your dad and Mary write me emails, you know. They aren’t as good correspondents as you are (for how could they possibly be, my dear?), but they check in about once a week or so. Mary sends me some of the articles she gives her students and talks about the show she’s watching with your dad. Your dad mainly talks about you. It makes me wish my parents were still around to do this stuff with me. Just checking in and writing emails and bragging about me to my girlfriend? How was yesterday’s class?

Your Bradley

01/20 @ 5:39m

I didn’t know they wrote you that often and I’m beyond embarrassed that my dad talks about me that much? But come on, Bradley…you have someone who does that, too? He’s about 5’8” (on a good day), looks great in a leather jacket, and just spent about two hours last weekend cleaning your gutters and telling me about how you won your high school’s debate scholarship?? Like how could you not tell me that? It’s literally one of the hottest things I’ve heard about you!

Class was good! They taught us a trick to cut onions without crying and one of the other girls complimented my apron! We’re doing meats next week, cutting, marinating, cooking, etc. and I’m excited!

01/20 @ 5:42pm

Oh gee, I bet it’s just awful for you to have Mav around all the time. Knight in shining armor…

01/20 @ 5:48pm

He’s not a bother! And it’s not all the time! We’re actually going to get lunch together on Saturday! It’s this new place on the water.

01/20 @ 5:50pm

Sounds like a cute little date! You’ll have to tell me how he is. Love you so much B

01/20 @ 5:55pm

I’ll keep ya posted, bubs! Love you!

01/22 @ 10:01am

Breaking news, kid. Your esteemed, naval aviator boyfriend is going to be on 60 Minutes at the end of February. Totally came out of left field, but I couldn’t say anything until they finished filming. It’s about the Navy in the Pacific and “the lost art of shipbuilding.” They even rigged up a camera on my plane and everything, it was so cool. I’ve been dying to tell you, but again couldn’t say anything until it was official. I probably won’t be on it long since they interviewed the Admiral and Pac Fleet Commander for most of it, but yeah, Payback and Bob and I will be on with my girl Norah. I made sure I had enough sunscreen on so I was camera ready at all times. Love you B

01/22 @ 10:09am

YOU’RE FUCKING SHITTING ME????? Oh my god, Bradley! That’s amazing! Margie even ran into my office to see what made me shriek! I am TOTALLY having a viewing party! Oh my god, how do you think it went? Did they get your good side? What about hair and makeup? I know you get helmet hair, bubs. 

Seriously, so so excited and proud of you, Bradley! I’m going to make my dad and Mary come down for it! She doesn’t teach on Mondays, so this is perfect for them to stay over Sunday night! But now don’t go letting all that fame get to your head, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw 😉 Love you so much x

01/24 @ 12:17pm

Rocketman - 

I was sitting at my desk earlier and listening to some music before my 12:30 meeting and Elton John’s Rocket Man popped up on my shuffle. Obviously, as you are my rocketman, I always think of you whenever I hear it, but today the lyrics really scratched that special part of my brain, so I did a deep dive into the song’s origins. 

Please note, I’m including this time in my billable hours to the client (re. you). My findings are as follows:

Bernie Taupin was inspired by a Ray Bradbury story written in 1951 titled ‘The Rocket Man’ - not drugs as the urban legend states! Drugs! Imagine!

Bradbury’s ‘The Rocket Man’ was first published in Maclean’s, a weekly Canadian magazine, before it was published in the short story collection ‘The Illustrated Man’ that same year

‘The Illustrated Man’ later was made into a film, though ‘The Rocket Man’ story was notably absent

Some of more popular and renowned stories from the collection include ‘The Veldt’ and ‘The Long Rain,’ the latter of which is commonly read in high school honors English

Was client in honors English? Please confirm in follow up correspondence

Client has mentioned extensive library resources at disposal - perhaps he can check this collection out on his next visit? But for now, an executive summary has been provided:

With space travel more commonplace in society, Doug’s father, an astronaut, is sent on frequent, three- month journeys into space

Despite missing his dad, Doug also longs to be a Rocket Man, though his mother frequently prevails on Doug to beg his father to stay on Earth and be with the family

“What’s it like, out in space?” Mother shot me a frightened glance. It was too late. Dad stood there for a full half minute trying to find an answer, then he shrugged.“It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things.” Then he caught himself. “Oh, it’s really nothing at all. Routine. You wouldn’t like it.” He looked at me, apprehensively. “But you always go back.” “Habit.”

The father finds that his work is ruining his life, but the draw of the stars is too great: "You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, if I ever get back to Earth I’ll stay there; I’ll never go out again. But I got out, and I guess I’ll always go out.”

Even while on vacation with the family, having Thanksgiving dinner, or sitting on the back porch, the father’s eyes are always on the sky…

Doug’s father begs him to not be like him, to not be a rocket man, but what happens when his father goes on one last journey to the stars?

Through much reflection, I have decided that ‘The Rocket Man’ was written about you - and your mom and your dad and me and on and on until there is no longer a need for Rocket Men - or the rocket man simply stops and breaks the cycle

You are both the Rocket Man and the little boy, forever waiting for his father to come home from space

The allure of flying, of being a ‘rocket man,’ is both too great and too sad for you to ignore

None of this is to say the rocket man is selfish, no. He simply cannot resist the temptation. He knows nothing other than the thrill and peace of being amongst the stars

And his mother shielding Doug from the sun at the end is like your mom asking Mav to pull your papers, she does it to save him, but it cannot keep him from becoming his father

Needless to say - I had to postpone my 12:30 meeting until tomorrow as my eyes were far too puffy and any word I tried to say felt like cotton in my mouth.

I miss you and I love you - your ‘Lilly’  

01/24 @ 8:22pm

Fuck - I love you so much. My clever girl.

01/24 @ 8:28pm

I pour my heart out to you and that’s all you have to say, rocketman? ‘Fuck - I love you so much’

(of course, I also love you so much, my clever boy.)

01/24 @ 8:30pm

Darling - it’s going to take me a little longer to come up with any commentary you deem appropriate, so for the sake of time, yes. I gotta read this story in full. I’ll be at the library at my earliest convenience. ‘The client’ will send an annotated copy with his notes henceforth.

01/24 @ 8:32pm

Of course, sweet boy. Goodnight, I love you so much. x

01/25 @ 11:44am

As promised, my darling girl. Love you.

[b.bradshaw_the rocket man_final paper.pdf]

01/25 @ 7:14pm

Oh Bradley! I love you so much, rocketman. Yes, I couldn’t have said it better. Yours x

01/26 @ 10:39am

Bradley! They’re sending me to London in February for two weeks! I even get a swanky corporate apartment for the stay. I wish you could come with me - even if it was just for a long weekend? We could go to all my favorite restaurants and afternoon tea and for walks in all the parks. One day it’ll work out! 

But tragedy of all tragedies! I just realized I’m going to miss a couple cooking lessons when I’m in London! I already emailed the instructor before today’s class and she said there’s other classes throughout the week that are behind us, so I can make it up with them! Ahhh I’m so excited! Talk soon, love you!

01/26 @ 11:13pm

I didn’t realize how nervous I was about the trip until I went to bed tonight. It’ll be my first trip abroad since I got my promotion in November. Plus, it’s a completely different client than my last trip abroad and I’ve only met one person on this new London team before. Sometimes I go into these meetings and still feel like a little kid? I’m always the youngest person in the room and normally the only woman and on one hand, that’s cool? But sometimes I feel like someone’s daughter instead of their colleague? Like these guys are my dad’s age? And they’re actually supposed to listen to what I have to say about their company? Do you ever feel like that? Like you don’t really belong, despite knowing you’ve earned your place? I wish you were beside me right now. My bed feels way too big tonight. Love you.

01/27 @ 7:48am

Sweetheart! I am so unbelievably proud of you! That’s amazing! You gotta celebrate, go out to dinner with Caro and Darcy, maybe even Nat! I know you’ve been working so hard these last couple of weeks, you absolutely deserve this. I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, but yes. I have absolutely felt like I haven’t belonged or deserved something despite having ‘checked off all the boxes.’ I felt that way when I got promoted to LC and when I got that award in October. Everytime I see it on my uniform, I feel a bit like a faker? Like do I really deserve this? But then I remember the way you smiled at me when I got back to my seat that night and how proud of me you were and I think maybe I do deserve it? Plus, I also think of how goddamn gorgeous you looked all fucked out later that night. 

And please note, I would happily slip into bed alongside you, especially since my bed feels way too small tonight. Love you, Bradley

01/27 @ 10:56am

Thank you for earlier. I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like I’m just too soft for all of this? Like I’m always trying to prove something to everyone and I get a little lost. Tell me something good? x

01/27 @ 7:01pm

How about this? Every time I go up in the sky and see the way the sun hits the clouds, I think of you. I’ve never wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with you. I love you so much, kid

Your Bradley 

01/27 @ 7:06pm

Sometimes I can’t believe we love each other this much, it feels like a dream  x

01/27 @ 7:11pm

I can. Your Bradley 

01/30 @ 7:08am

i slept in one of your shirts last night. it doesn’t smell like you anymore, but it feels like you: soft and safe and warm x

01/30 @ 7:23am

Well I spray my pillowcase with your perfume whenever I miss you so I guess we’re even

Your Bradley

ps - can you send me another bottle?

01/30 @ 7:34am

You’re already out? What sort of illicit behavior are you engaging in with that perfume bottle? 

01/30 @ 10:33pm

I burrow my face in my pillow so I can smell it while I fist my cock, why? What’d you have in mind?

01/30 @ 10:37pm

How does that work though? Like genuinely? Do you jack off with Reuben in the top bunk? Or wait till he’s in the gym? I’ve been curious about this for a while now. What about the showers? Is it like an open floor plan thing? Or are there stalls? Is there a Zillow listing for this aircraft carrier?

01/30 @ 10:41pm

Now why would I ruin the mystery? 

01/30 @ 10:43pm

Bradley!!!!

01/30 @ 10:44pm

Atta girl, that’s the spirit! Love you 

02/02 @ 6:30pm

I am so sick of going to the gym. It seems like it’s all Payback and I do lately. We got this new workout regime that’s been killing me - don’t say it’s because I’m old. Though, I have been using my Theragun. Payback does my back if I do his in return. It was only awkward the first time he turned it on too hard and yelped (please tell everyone that). 

02/02 @ 6:46pm

Oh, so you and Rueben Theragun each other, huh? Say more Lieutenant Commander!

02/04 @ 2:45pm

Going to Pete and Penny’s in a bit to watch the Super Bowl! Max is at the game, apparently his golf buddy Jimmy G hooked him up, though he neglected to bring me or Caroline. I feel like you would’ve been his first choice, so take that as a compliment I suppose. Do you guys do anything onboard for it? I have $350 on the 49ers winning by 3. Have a lovely day my darling boy x

02/04 @ 9:30pm

Guess who’s as snug as a bug on a rug in her bed AND $1400 dollars richer? That would be me! When you get home we’re going to Juniper and Ivy, my treat, bubs! x

02/06 @ 4:57am

Awww sweetheart are you gonna sugar mama me again? 

02/06 @ 7:03am

You do know the only reason you’re getting away with that is because there’s an ocean between us, right? 

02/06 @ 6:00pm

Sorry, couldn’t resist! Love you! B

02/06 @ 6:10pm

You’re lucky I love you so much. x

02/08 @ 9:58pm

Can you imagine if I was gone for 20 years?

02/08 @ 10:11pm

Bradley that’s not funny 

02/08 @ 10:13pm

It’s not supposed to be. I’m reading the Odyssey and it got me thinking. 

02/08 @ 10:16pm

Bradley I love you something awful, but you are such an old man sometimes. 

Are you going through some sort of midlife crisis reading the Odyssey while you’re at sea?? Is the Old Man and the Sea next?

(ps i love the thought of you reading in your bunk in your spare time and being so struck by something composed thousands of years ago that you have to email me)

02/08 @ 10:20pm

They wait 20 years to get back to each other - practically half their lives. They miss so many things and barely knew each other before he left, but they’re still so - I don’t even know? They’re just so intent on getting back to the other in Odysseus’s case? While Penelope makes sure there’s something for him to come back to? And I must’ve read this stanza ten times before I had to email you: 

"...the gods cast me upon Ogygia, Calypso's island, home of the dangerous sea nymph with glossy braids, and the goddess took me in in all her kindness, welcomed me warmly, cherished me, even vowed to make me immortal, ageless, all my days - but she never won the heart inside me, never" 

And I know it’s not a perfect comparison or parallel, but I read that last bit and I couldn’t help but think of you? And how you’re the one who won my heart and it’s always going to be that way. Whether I see you in twenty seconds or twenty years.

02/08 @ 10:23pm

You’d come home to me whether it took twenty seconds or twenty years. You’d come home to me and I’d know you anywhere. I love you so much. 

02/08 @ 10:58pm

“Now help me, please, to get back home, and quickly! I miss my family. I have been gone so long it hurts.” 

Your Bradley

02/09 @ 7:03pm

At the airport for London! Taking off! And I may or may not have used points to upgrade to a Club World seat…but like? It’s a nonstop flight, so it’s okay, right? Work’s already paying for business class? It’s points from my work card? It’ll be fine, right?

I had to take an ativan in the lounge. I just hate that I still get so nervous whenever I fly long distance? I fly all the time, I shouldn’t be like this? You know, one time, I pretended you were flying my plane. I know it’s kind of dumb and silly and a completely different type of plane, but it made me feel better because you’d never let anything happen to me. 

Anyway, we’re book buddies!! I went to the bookstore a couple days ago and got a copy! I read the Odyssey back in high school, but forgot so much. I was reading in the lounge and this part made me think of you:

“...this lovely house, my marriage home, so full of wealth and life, which I suppose I will remember even in my dreams.”

I’ll text you when I land my darling boy, love you x

02/10 @ 6:02am

You gotta squeeze every last bit of your per diem out of pwc. You’ve been working way too hard lately. Fuck it, on the way home just put the upgrade on your work card or put it on mine. Have a safe (rest of your) flight - maybe one day you’ll let me take you up. Love Bradley 

02/10 @ 10:08am

Just landed and on my way to the office (already…)

I thought of you as I read and stared out the window on the plane. I could pretend I’m flying towards you, rather than further away. I can’t imagine how you feel doing this everyday, but I imagine it’s like feeling limitless, like everything is in front of you, there for the taking. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you take me up one day. 

I’ll keep you posted on how everything’s going if you do the same. All my love x

02/12 @ 5:49am

How’s it going, kid? They working you too hard? You’re in London! Try to enjoy it, you deserve it. One of the guys I’m with gave me a restaurant rec for you, said the drinks were amazing, his wife loved it. Do something fun while you’re there! And send me some pictures dammit!

Love you, 

Bradley 

02/12 @ 8:22am

Bradley! It’s been so so crazy here! I feel like I haven’t stopped since I landed. My ‘flat’ is so cute and right by the client’s offices, so it’s an easy commute. I feel so professional taking the Tube places too! It’s one thing I’d like us to have in San Diego as opposed to all the traffic. Also, it’s CHILLY here and I’m so glad I dug my big coat out of storage. I’ll try and check the restaurant out this weekend, I’m gonna sneak in a trip to the Tate, too. I’ve always wanted to see the Turners. Talk soon and love you bunches! x 

02/14 @ 9:54am

Bradley Bradshaw! You absolute SAP! HOW!?! Did you conspire with my dad again? Thank you for the flowers! I’m going to have the biggest smile on my face all day. I love you and hope this is the first of a lifetime of Valentine’s Days together. Always x 

02/14 @ 7:33pm

Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, kid. I’m not gonna lie, I gave your dad very specific instructions for the bouquet (I was going to ask Max, but he’d probably swap it for something ugly and cheap and keep the change…kidding (not)), so I’m glad they turned out well. It was a very big day on board today: we got special red heart cookies for the holiday. The mood was infectious, I can still taste the sprinkles. Maybe you could cook for me on our next Facetime? Have you learned anything good in class lately? It doesn’t have to be fancy, just wanna see you (and maybe also live vicariously through whatever you’re making).  

02/14 @ 7:33pm

Bradley! I think I can swing that for you, when do you think our next call will be? 

02/16 @ 3:18pm

Kid, you spoil me. This package is amazing, I don’t know where to start (just kidding it’s with the Cadbury chocolate and the Sudocrem as my burnt shoulders thank you), but everything is wonderful, thank you. I love hearing about London and seeing the pictures you sent last time. But I do have one complaint…you’re not in any of the pictures, kid, and that’s truly egregious. (Think we won’t be able to Facetime for a while, I gave Payback my slot the other day.)

02/16 @ 3:23pm

That’s not true! I’m in the one in front of the Tate!

02/16 @ 3:25pm

Yeah, but I can’t see you under all those layers! Just want to see your face. It’s been way too long since our last Facetime.

02/16 @ 9:52pm

As requested, Lieutenant Commander. I had one of the girls in the London office take this at dinner tonight. She really did wonders with the lighting and even managed to get my sidecar in the pic! x Love you

02/17 @ 6:55am

You look pretty. New dress? B

02/17 @ 7:17am

Maybe…it was on sale, couldn’t resist. But you’re gonna hate me because all of my clothes are very much not going to fit in your closet. Also, I bought you a new jacket and some socks. x

02/17 @ 7:20am

Ehhh I’m not too worried about the closet thing. But if you keep buying me clothes we might have a problem.

02/17 @ 7:24am

It’s so cute though!! You’re going to look so handsome in it! I got the green one for you!

02/17 @ 7:29am

Okay, admittedly a very nice jacket, thank you. But you are aware that we live in San Diego…

02/17 @ 7:31am

I am aware of that fact, LC Bradshaw. You can wear it when we visit my parents. Hell, I had to get my coat out of my storage closet for this trip. 

02/17 @ 6:53pm

Sighhhhh you raise a good point. Alright, alright, thank you for the jacket and socks my darling girl. What’d you have for dinner last night? We had chicken with these absolutely awful biscuits, tasted like saw dust, my stomach was growling for some more of that Cadbury chocolate (yes, Payback and I ate all of it already, though it was mainly Payback) for hours afterward. 

02/17 @ 6:59pm

Oh my sweet boy! Who do I need to call about your meal plan? Give me the number and I’ll call the Navy up right now. And I had scallops with truffle risotto. It was delicious. Wanted to lick the bowl clean. Love you bubs x

02/19 @ 10:22pm

Bubs, I cannot eat another meal out. I feel like I’m going to burst. I’ve gone to so many work dinners and lunches even before coming here, it almost makes me feel like a glutton. 

I miss you and your cooking (though I’ll have you know that my skills were vastly improving before my trip abroad!) and you standing behind me at the counter while I try to perfectly cut peppers. Sometimes I do it wrong on purpose so you’ll put your arms around me and I can feel the rumble of your voice. Would we call that weaponized incompetence? You better be ready for some Michelin Star meals when you get home, buddy. I just can’t wait to be home with you and roll over next to you in the morning and to tell you to stop snoring and that the battery in the smoke detector needs to be changed. I can’t wait to be home with you and make a life with you. I’m going to be really sappy now, but let me have this because I was reading this poem the other day and thought of you. 

“I am supposed to be touched. I can’t wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?” (x)

Only a month until you’re home with me, I hope you’re hungry. 

All my love x

02/20 @ 4:50am

It’s only weaponized incompetence if the other person minds. I, however, do not mind. I loved that quote you sent me, going to be thinking about that one for a long time. I hate to tell you this, but I’m gonna be offline for a couple days. I hate that it’s at the end of your trip, but please please message me when you’re leaving/taking off and again when you land, you know I worry. Love you and am so unbelievably proud of you, kid! You killed it in London. Your Bradley

02/20 @ 7:03am

That’s okay, I totally understand. I’ll give you all the details on our next Facetime. In the meantime, I message you when I leave. Stay safe and love you, Bradley! x

02/23 @ 3:45pm

Taking off soon! I got an upgrade again, thankfully! And I made sure to put your new coat in my carry on - I don’t trust British Airways not to lose it! Taking an ativan again so hopefully I’ll sleep the entire flight - love you and talk soon!

02/24 @ 10:33pm

Just landed, slept through….90% of the flight! Apparently, there was bad turbulence, so probably for the best. Now, I know you would never have me deal with that my darling rocketman! Talk later - love you! x

02/25 @ 7:09pm

Feels kind of weird being back? I can’t quite get back into my routine. I’m not sure if it’s jet lag or something else? Feeling a little lost? x

02/26 @ 7:55pm

Bradley!!! You were so good, I’m so so proud of you! Max had everyone over at his place for us to watch you! We have quite the party here including my parents, Pete, Penny and Amelia, Natasha, Mickey and Cielo, Caroline, and Darcy. I’ll have to tell you about the parents meeting later. I wish you had been here for it, they took to each other like bees to honey. 

You looked tragically handsome, I practically had to hold back a moan when you were standing on the flight deck talking to Norah O’Donnell (is she as nice in person as she is on TV?). God, I want to ravish you, you sounded so fucking smart. You know like half the country is going to be in love with you now, right? I’ve got to get back to everyone, Max ordered dinner for us afterwards, but I had to email you as soon as you finished!

Just wanted to let you know how proud of you I am and how much I love you x

02/27 @ 5:09am

Thanks, kid. Sorry it took me a bit to respond, things have been getting a bit crazy, you know, now that I’m a celebrity and all? We’re winding down this training, so the next couple weeks are gonna be full of debriefs and paperwork, which means I should have a more stable schedule. Love you B

02/28 @ 11:48pm

Sometimes I wonder if you were here what would you do? Hold me? Love me? I never feel small except when I’m in your arms. x

02/29 @ 11:48pm

Some nights in bed, if I try really hard, I can imagine I’m laying down next to you. And it makes everything just a little easier. Bradley

03/01 @ 12:56am

I haven’t taken anything besides my fingers in months. You’re going to stretch me out so well when you get home. 

03/01 @ 7:19pm

And I’m gonna mark your ass pink for that comment. I can’t believe you sent that in the middle of the day. You getting yourself off at work? Dirty girl. 

03/01 @ 9:41pm

Never feels as good as when you do it. 

03/01 @ 10:01pm

And my hands pale in comparison to your pretty little cunt. You know that first time we slept together you were so fucking tight, I knew you hadn’t had a good fuck in ages. It gonna be like that again when I come home?

03/01 @ 10:05pm

Where are you going to have me first?

03/01 @ 10:06pm

In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen. 

03/01 @ 10:09pm

Just over two weeks now, I can’t wait to see you. x

03/03 @ 5:55am

How you holding up, kid? You doing a little better this week work wise? Try and log off around 5 if you can. Don’t want you getting all worn down on me. 

They had us doing these war games yesterday that made me think of you. You would’ve walked circles around some of these other guys I swear. Think I can get a Facetime for us in a couple days? Probably will be our last one before I come home. Love you, B

03/03 @ 7:12am

Bradley! That's the best news I’ve had in ages! I can’t wait to see you! Definitely felt a little lost after coming back from London, but I hope my rut will be over soon? Tying things up with a client is always so lengthy and tedious. 

War games! ‘Would you like to play a game?’ I’d ask if you won, but no one ever wins in the art of war 😉Love you!

03/05 @ 8:54pm

So, here’s a new one. My mom called? She’s going to be stateside and wants to get lunch tomorrow. Could’ve done with a bit more warning, but apparently, she has a layover in San Diego on her way to New York to see my brother? I didn’t even know she was going to see him? I don’t even know if I want to see her? It’s funny, I can already tell you exactly how it’ll play out:

We’ll go to lunch at some sort of vegan restaurant, probably Donna Jean

She’ll make me pay

She’ll try to get me to use some sort of herb to promote weight loss since I’m looking a bit “pudgy” around the face

Though she’ll forget to ask about you, she’ll tell me about her latest string of failed relationships with bartenders and surf instructors in Canggu. Or is it Ubud? I genuinely don’t remember, she started in Ubud, but honestly my knowledge of Balinese geography is rudimentary at best 

She’ll ask how ‘that woman’ is doing as if Mary is just the woman my dad is seeing, not the woman who raised me and my brother

And finally, she’ll ask for money though betting is still open as to what for!

So, what do you say? Wanna put a wager on it? Your terms.

Love you! x

03/06 @ 6:30am

$100 she orders the caesar and makes you pay. I’m not even going to entertain the third parlay, pretty girl. Oddly feeling like she’s got a winner on her hands so yes she’ll talk about her new paramour. Does she really call Mary ‘that woman?’ And yes, without a question, she will ask you for money.

Your move my gorgeous girl,

Bradley

03/06 @ 7:49pm

I really wish you were here right now. She doesn’t even know me, but she somehow always manages to make me feel small. 

Caesar - no croutons 

I paid

Pudgy and frumpy, but she was hawking shakes not herbs

Failed relationship? No, she’s actually GETTING MARRIED

She did not ask about you much other than to say I need to watch my figure for you (see bullet point no. 3)

Mary was called ‘that woman’ six times before I stopped counting

She asked for money as a wedding present 

So, you didn’t get them all, but not a bad showing. Love you. Talk tomorrow on Facetime. x

03/07 @ 6:09am

God kid, I’m so sorry. She doesn’t know what she’s missing. Actually, I don’t even think she deserves to know what she’s missing. Did you talk to your dad or Mary about it? I know we’re talking later, but I just wanted you to have a message from me before you start your day. What’re you wearing to the office tomorrow? Have you worn that wrap dress lately? You know it’s one of my favorites and that I always love unwrapping it when you get home from the office. 

Can’t wait to see you tonight. All my love, Bradley

03/07 @ 9:55am

The dress doesn’t fit. My mom was right, I shouldn’t have gotten the french toast.

I’m planning on talking to dad and Mary later today before you and I have our Facetime. I know they’ll make me feel better, much like you have my darling boy, but it still feels pretty crummy. Especially since I’m sure she’s going to have wonderful time in New York with my brother 🙄 and I’ll have to hear all about it next time I talk to him. 

And I’m not sure if I’ve unpacked that dress yet! I’ll have to do some digging. Talk soon! x

03/10 @ 3:26am

We had a little baby. He was always giggling and laughing and we were making silly faces and he looked so small in your arms, Bradley. So small and little and he was ours. And then I turned around and he was toddling around the house and we were chasing him and his little legs were moving so quickly and we all wound up on the couch in a tangle of limbs, giggling under the blankets as we tickled him and he called you daddy. 

It wasn’t our house - or what will be our house, I guess? Instead of the leather couch you have, it was white and big and wide and the three of us could easily fit on it, snuggled together. 

And I could feel your arms around me, rocking me back and forth. I could feel you humming in my ear and kissing my neck and telling me you loved me. I could feel it. I could feel you. I could feel him and you. And it was nice and I felt warm and safe and cherished and loved. Because I felt so much love for this little boy in my arms - the perfect mix of me and you. Everything felt right and perfect. 

Except when I rolled over in bed to tell you about it, I realized I was alone in my bed, in my apartment, and not in the house that we shared or with the little boy that looked so much like you and I haven’t felt so empty and sad since I can’t remember when. 

And I just miss you so much, Bradley. I know I can come across as glib and unfeeling sometimes and like this doesn’t affect me as much. But it does and sometimes I feel like my heart is going to burst because I’ve never felt like this for anyone else before? It’s never been so easy for me to love someone and let them love me to the point that I always want to be beside them. And I know with your job - and mine - that can’t always happen, but god Bradley I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know you’re real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you. 

I love you rocketman x

03/11 @ 12:49pm

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I realize that’s a lot to drop on you, especially since we can’t talk in person. I guess I’ve just never missed a person more in my life and seeing that future showed me what we could have when you come home. God, Bradley I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know it’s selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here - in twenty seconds, not twenty years. 

How did your hop go today? x

03/11 @ 7:03pm

I have dreams like that, too. I’ll be little, but still older than I was when my dad died and we’ll be at the beach, running around, and he’ll pick me up and spin me around like I’m flying on an airplane. 

But then it’ll be me and my kid, running around and I’ll pick them up and spin them around like they’re flying on an airplane. Sometimes it’s a girl, sometimes a little boy. But I always just can feel and tell that I love them and I’d do anything for them. 

And I used to hate waking up alone after I had them and I’d feel empty and sad and like I had the feeling that they should still be there? Except now I have you and I know it doesn’t just have to be a dream?

Sorry it took me so long to reply. Today was hectic and I didn’t get to check my email until later. But if I checked it earlier, my day would’ve been a lot easier on my heart. 

All my love,

Your Bradley

03/12 @ 7:11pm

How do you always know exactly what to say? I’m sorry for springing that all on you, know it wasn’t exactly a quick/easy message, but I love that you knew exactly what I meant. My day’s always a lot easier on my heart when I hear from you, too. Love you x

03/13 @ 10:17pm

i miss having you around to take care of me. and telling me what to do and what to wear for you and how you want me and where you want me and when you want me and and and. and how good i feel around you as you come, how you take what’s yours. how i need you to take control and tell me what i need because i’m too much of a dumb slut to figure it out on my own. i need you so much bradley. and it’s so hard because i’m trying to take care of myself like you do and imagine what you’d do if you were with me right now. but i’m so frustrated since no one takes care of me like you do. i feel so empty. nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as it’s yours. 

i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley

3/13 @ 10:39pm

Awwww sweetheart, did you get yourself all worked up over me? It’s okay, I know it’s hard for you all by yourself. Must’ve been real bad for you to risk this getting flagged, huh? Poor thing, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. 

Want you to pretend I’m next to you, leaning over you as you lay down and touch yourself. Say yes Bradley, more Bradley. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Good girl. 

Want you naked under the covers, no frilly little pajama set or anything. No, I want your cum to stain the sheets and then for you to have to clean up in the morning, all embarrassed because you did this. You made yourself like this because you can’t control yourself without me around. All that cum being wasted. Nobody around to lick it off your pussy. So what doesn’t get on the sheets, you have to taste. Good girl. 

Want you to use your fingers - only your fingers, I’ll know if you use anything else. Start with your breasts. Think of how perfectly they fit in my hands and how yours aren’t quite the same. They aren’t as big. Aren’t as strong. Play with your nipples, drag your nails across the soft skin on the underside of your breasts.

Want you to sigh my name as you slide your hands down your stomach towards your pretty little pussy. Have you shaved? Gotten a wax? You know how I like it, want it just like that when I get home. Pretend it’s my fingers sliding into your cunt. A few touches and you’re already clenching on air and I’m not even around. 

In and out, in and out. Circle your clit with your thumb. Add another finger, then another. You rocking your hips yet? I know you’re soaked. I know you want more. Three fingers can’t stretch you out nearly as much as you need. But I don’t know if you can handle anything else without me around. And I know you would never disagree with me, right? Because you’re my good girl and good girls do what they’re told. 

Don’t hesitate to get loud. You’re in our house, in our bed, you can be as loud as you want. Bet you’re getting close, huh? Try and last a little longer, can you hear yourself and how wet you are? Are you shaking yet? I know you’re close. Go ahead, speed up your fingers, just the way I do. It’s okay, you can come. Know you’re gonna get sleepy soon, wish I could sleep inside you, nice and tight.

Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl. 

03/14 @ 5:49pm

Thank you, Bradley. Thank you for taking care of me last night 

You like chicken piccata, right?

03/14 @ 7:33pm

Yeah, kid, I like chicken piccata. 

03/14 @ 7:39pm

Okay, that’s good. I’m going to make it when you come home. I ran it by my cooking instructor. Ina’s recipe of course. 

(I’ve read your email seven times since you sent it. I’ve thought about it constantly. I want you to take me softly and slowly that first time. But after that? I can’t wait to let go and float. Love you so much x)

03/15 @ 6:09am

You’re the boss. Good thing I’ll be home soon, you’re gonna run out of material. As is, I had to type that last one with one hand. 

Love you,

B

03/15 @ 7:21am

I’ll be good till you get home, promise. 

Have a good day, do you think we’ll get to talk much from now till Friday? Love you x

03/15 @ 7:24am

I’ll hold you to it. 

I don’t think so, might be able to send one out before leaving the boat. Better make it a good one. 

All my love

Your Bradley 

03/15 @ 7:25am

You got it! Love you bubs 

03/18 @ 11:08pm

Kid - there’s this lyric that keeps running through my head: ‘and I want you right here.’ I want you beside me - today, tomorrow, all my days. I want you right here, beside me forever. In twenty seconds, not twenty years. See you tomorrow.

All my love,

Your Bradley

03/18 @ 11:11pm

See you tomorrow, rocketman. I’ll be the one in blue.

Love you x

a/n: thanks for reading! i'll be back with part ii and part iii (hopefully not in...4 months). i had so much fun writing these and getting to explore a different format and side to their relationship! thanks to alexa @sometimesanalice, kylie @ofstoriesandstardust, cass @notroosterbradshaw, elle @dissonannce, nik @cherrycola27, and loren @heartsofminds for all the support!

[anonniemousefics]

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Two

Chapter Masterlist 

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Two: Burn Before Reading

My dearest Inej,

I’m trying to respond to your last letter, but I am stuck on the fact that you began it with the greeting, “My Devastation.” Dear Ghezen, woman. Is this what it feels like to blush? I despise it. This must never happen again. This is also the only greeting I will accept from now on.

Changing the subject. If I keep thinking about you calling me that, I will get nothing done at all.

You’ve asked for longer letters, more details about the happenings here. To that I say, why not just stay longer next time? And then you won’t have to settle for reading about it.

But since there’s still one month, two weeks, and three days left until you dock again, I’ll try to entertain you. I write these at the end of the day, and I’m finding it’s a pleasant way to unravel the mess in my mind a little anyway. So, here are three things which occurred this past week:

Rotty accidentally stepped on a cat in an alley and needed twelve stitches afterwards. He’s telling everyone it was a knife fight. It doesn’t matter to me what he tells them. I still get to laugh about it either way.

I think Jesper and Wylan are having an argument. Jesper’s worn the same clothes for three days. I’m oddly preoccupied with whether or not I should say something. Or maybe buy him a drink. Look what you’ve done to me.

I dreamt of you this week. And that is all I’m saying about that. Because, unlike some people, I don’t have a sick fascination with making other people blush. I much prefer screaming and cowering and sniveling. It’s far less cruel.

That is your entertainment for the night. As I am writing this, I’m also examining the blueprints of a certain mercher’s townhome. There’s a strange looking void in the plans that I suspect is a hidden vault. I’m probably not going to sleep until I’ve worked out how to get to it.  

Devastatingly yours,

K. Brekker

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

Inej, darling,

I’m very sorry Jesper’s letter disturbed you. I’m all right. It was just a little arrest and very minor concussion. No, you don’t need to hurry home. I made bail, made all the appropriate bribes – this will all blow over in a month. Well in time for your arrival.

In the meantime, I’m enclosing the blueprints. Maybe you can have a look and tell me how you would have broken in. Be aware -- this one’s a light sleeper and has a very good aim.

Of course I’m resting. Of course.

(in the margins, in Inej’s handwriting:  Lies.)

Yours,

Kaz

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

Inej. Inej Inej Inej.

You’ll be here tomorrow. I wasn’t going to write again until after. But I took Jesper out for the drink like you said. Drinks. Plural. And it’s interacting strangely with the pain pills the medik offered for the concussion. This has not been my smartest evening.  

Inej. I hope someone stops me before I drop this off at the post tomorrow. I feel very much like I’m about to say things I’m going to regret.  

Listen. Between you and me. Wylan has every right to be angry with Jesper. His spending habits are abysmal, and his cleanliness even worse. He’s a grown man who doesn’t even know how to scrub a dish. They had better not ask us to take sides. Who would you pick? I’d have to pick Jesper. That’s strange. Why do I feel like I have to pick Jesper?

This has been illuminating.

You’ll be here tomorrow. Inej. You’ll be here tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to sleep. This has been the longest three months of my life. I’ve lost count of how often I’ve dreamt of your laugh, your eyes, your hair, your lips. If I could only taste them. I imagine I might even prefer it toffees.  

Tasting your lips, specifically, I mean. I think that was clear. I actually have no interest in eating your hair. Gods, I'm drunk.

You’ll be here tomorrow, Inej. And now I’m going to be hungover like an ass. I’m sorry. Hopefully I’ll have the decency to say sorry to your face. You have the most lovely face.

Perhaps I will put this in the post, just in case tomorrow’s hangover ruins everything. A preemptive apology can’t hurt.

With every regret and with all of my heart,

I remain yours,

K. Rietveld

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

(in an envelope marked: “OPEN FIRST”)

My dearest Inej,

I must respectfully and urgently request that you only read this letter when you pick up your mail in Os Kervo. In my haste, I accidentally included sensitive information in the letter postmarked the day before this one, and it is a danger to us all. Burn before reading. Seriously.

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

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

My dearest, brilliant Inej,

Thank you for burning the letter as per my last request. No, I’d rather not even allude to its contents. It is a relief to know it’s gone.  

Was it just me or did this last Ketterdam trip of yours go better than the previous? I hope you felt that way. For me, I’m thrilled enough to have held your hand. I can still feel the memory of you resting against my shoulder. You seemed happy. I have wanted that for you for so long.

We’re going to try your suggestions on the vault this time, later in the week. I find myself less motivated in the initial days after you depart. I imagine that’s not something you feel, and I understand. The water calls for you in ways it doesn’t call to me. We can’t all be seafarers.

This letter has been a little drearier, I’m realizing. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s my head. Maybe it’s because I miss you. An excessive supply of Ravkan toffees can only cure so much.  

I’ll make sure the next one's cheerier. This is all for now.  

Yours,

Kaz

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

Inej,

Well. Thanks for coming clean about the letter at least. I hope you’re happy with yourself.

What if there’d actually been something dangerous in it? What then?  

Who knows why I decided to sign it with that name. I was drunk and concussed and strung out on pain relievers. It wasn’t meant to be read.  

But go on -- enjoy the laugh at my expense.  

Honestly, I expected a little more consideration from you.

Kaz

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

(no envelope, unsent)

My most cherished Devastation,  

I am not laughing. I didn’t laugh at the letter at all. It was never my intent to humiliate you. You have to know that I loved every word of it. It was like opening a plain box and finding a gem. You are rarely so free with your words and your feelings. If I could kiss the medik who intoxicated you, I would.

I’m keeping the letter. I’m savoring every word. Even the part about not eating my hair, which, while an unnecessary clarification, I do appreciate the effort to communicate. I’m dreaming of kissing and holding you, too. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

Although, let’s not tell Wylan what you wrote. Your secret is safe with me. Your secrets are always safe with me.

You are my sweetest devastation, Kaz Rietveld. Please don’t be angry.

Yours,

Inej

P.S. – If you were hungover that day like you feared, you hid it alarmingly well. Or perhaps your usual grumpy demeanor lends itself well to masking hangovers. That’s not to say you were an ass. You were perfect. You were charming. I’m really bungling this. You were Kaz, and you were exactly as I needed you. Does that make sense? No, it doesn’t. I think I need to throw this out and try again.

(scribbled in the margins, roughly translated from Suli)

“BURN BEFORE READING”? DO YOU TRUST ME AT ALL?!

INEJ, YOU MASSIVE LOON

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

Inej, bravest and most daring of all Inejs,  

I can’t stay angry with you. Disregard the last letter. Do what you want with the ridiculous one. Let’s blame all of this on the damn mercher who hit me in the head. None of this would have happened if he could have just been decent and let me rob him.  

When are you coming home again?

Yours,

Kaz

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

My dearest Devastation,  

We are docking in Ketterdam next week. I’d rather not completely disregard the letter in question. Let’s speak of it in person then. Do you think you can do that?

And before you say no, I’m bringing toffees to sweeten the deal. So, consider carefully.  

Affectionately yours,

Inej

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 10

The Bakugo family dynamic was one of the most unusual Eras has ever seen.

Mrs.Bakugo was an aggressive woman with a confident set to her shoulders and a mouth that puts sailors to shame. Mr.Bakugo, Masaru, was calm and serene. He only stepped in when Mitsuki, Mrs.Bakugo, either didn’t get her point across or was getting riled up. The two complimented each other well and Eras would have been amused if they weren’t currently grating on the last of her nerves.

The word “conditioned” came to mind when she remembered Muska’s parting words from the nurse’s office.

She really hopes these people didn’t help create whatever mental state the ‘Bakugo’ responsible had. She was also starting to realize how confusing referring to people by last names was. You’d think she’d be used to it after all these years. God, she wished she wasn’t here.

During this thought process, the glare she pinned All Might with from earlier never let up. The man was shivering.

“Ah, Welcome! I see You’ve already met Midoriya-san?” Nedzu asked.

The three newest members of the meeting room all nodded as they sat down. The Bakugo’s spared more than a few glances at the newly inflated All Might and Eras herself. She could understand on some base level that seeing someone glare at the number 1 hero was probably rare.

“We’ve been best fucking friends since highschool. Also, I already know it’ll be fuckin confusing so just call Me Mistuki and Masa here Masaru.” She said head held high yet Eras noted the slight defensiveness in her posture.

That was expected, they were here for a training accident after all. One caused by her son but Eras had a feeling she didn't know that yet.

“You can call me Inko as well,” Inko shifted with nerves as she wrung her hands together in an effort to still them, “Is my son alright?”

Nedzu nodded and went to speak, however Eras spoke up first, finally tearing her gaze away from All Might. The man let out a barely audible sigh of relief as she did so.

“You son is doing fine Inko-san. He was quizzing my ward when I went to the infirmary earlier. Sorry to cut you off, Nedzu, however I believe a first hand account would be better than one given by a principal, even if she doesn't know me personally.” Eras saw the tension ease a bit in Inko’s shoulders in response.

“Ah thank you, You're right about that. Your ward? Ah sorry I never caught your name either.” Inko asked, a nervous but nonetheless bright smile on her face.

“My name is Viridis Eras, You can call me Eras considering we’ll be speaking of my ward during this meeting, and I say ward because though she is not my child she is under my care. I was good friends with her parents and so after they passed she came under my guardianship.” Holding up a hand to preemptively silence the condolences, she continued. “It happened years ago so no need for the sorrys.”

The newest occupants of the room all nodded as they redirected their attention to Nedzu, confusion evident on their faces. Nedzu, seemingly able to sense the need for an explanation, cleared his throat and replaced the polite smile on his face with a serious look.

“Thank you for that, Eras-san, though I believe I need to specify why I have called you all here today." Well that confirmed her suspicions from earlier, " As Eras-san already knows, considering her circumstances she was given a summary before getting here, there was a training accident during class 1-A’s heroics class. The injured participants were Viridis Muska and Midoriya Izuku. Though both are completely healed now, except for some aggravated skin where burns were healed.”

Inko looked to be on the verge of crying and the Bakugo’s looked to be edging on realization to why they were called. The word ‘burns’ probably clued them in. They kept shooting glances between Inko and herself.

“The cause of these burns was a gauntlet used as support equipment for Bakugo Katsuki. He was warned beforehand that at close range and indoors, his equipment could be lethal and was ordered by the present instructor, All Might, to stop. He didn’t listen.”

Nedzu paused and let reality seep in. Inko was now actually crying, though not as much as Midoriya was in the infirmary, and the Bakugo pair were now pale. Eras sighed and it dragged the attention back to her. Confusion starting to invade previously horrified faces. Eras allowed her gaze to remain neutral as she turned it onto the Bakugo pair.

“Before I speak my mind on the matter, I would like to ask whether or not this behavior present in your son was encouraged,” once again raising a hand to silence the onslaught she continued, “not that I expect you to encourage violence in him, but did you ever notice previously that his schooling may have intentionally avoided discouraging his tendencies?”

Mitsuki opened and closed her mouth, obviously wanting to retaliate but she sat back and shut her mouth with a scrunched expression. Probably searching for any moments her son’s schooling did in fact do such a thing, after all the person who asked had a child under her care that was just fucking maimed so, small mercies. Surprisingly, it was Masaru who spoke up for the first time since he entered the meeting.

“I believe they did encourage his more… aggressive... ways. It was subtle at first glance but as he grew older I noticed that he stopped speaking about his schooling and instead focused only on himself. As if there was nothing else but his aptitude.” He said with a grimace.

Mitsuki looked appalled for a good second before something may have clicked. Wide eyes of disbelief followed shortly by a sigh of resignation. Eras watched it all, evaluating, analyzing. Once she determined that the parents were, disappointingly, unaware of their son’s habits, she spoke up.

“Muska had warned me before coming here that she believes Bakugo was conditioned into what he is now. Seeing your confirmation, sadly, only proves her right. I have a feeling that his previous schooling was sub par when it came to actively punishing or at least telling him no. This means that he doesn’t even realize that what he did was wrong.” Eras sighed, once again, as she thought about how much of a mess this all was.

“I agree,” Nedzu stated, he had his computer out and seemed to find something on it that prompted his involvement, “I pulled up his middle school records and some concerning things have been made apparent. His record is squeaky clean, even described as a pleasure to have in class and works well with others.”

A snort came from Aizawa who was still leaning against the wall, drawing attention to himself. He sighed as he realized that attention was now on him. Ah, what a mood.

“First day of school he called a student an ‘extra’. I sincerely doubt he was a pleasure in class. Also, considering during the exercise today he immediately left his partner to hunt down the glory for himself, I don’t believe he works well with others either.”

Dry sarcasm is the bane of Eras’s continued intimidation tactic. Seriously, if this man keeps up she may just actually snort. That would ruin the image she was trying to convey damnit.

The group of people sat in silence for a minute. Nedzu sat silently watching the group though, by his tail movement, Eras could tell he had settled on something already. Eras turned back towards All Might with an unimpressed face. Time to wrap this meeting up.

“I recommend giving Bakugo a second chance. Not suspension, but something else. Muska recommended therapy and I recommend anger management. Both may be the best option. As for All Might, I’ll let Aizawa-san rip into you himself regarding your, frankly, stupid idea to set teenagers with little to no training loose in a battle exercise.” Eras glanced at said gruff teacher who gave her a subtle nod and an impish grin. Satisfied that he would take care of it (and he will enjoy the hell out of it), she continued, “Now I will excuse myself to the infirmary once more. Hopefully, I don’t need to come back for a reason like this one again.” The ‘you won’t like what happens’ went unsaid but by the looks on their faces, it was understood.

Standing up, Eras walked over to the door and cracked it open, turning her head to Aizawa, she smiled a fanged smile.

“Keep me updated. I’ll trust your judgement for his punishment.”

With that, she left.

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

He was confused.

Scared.

Lost.

Constricted.

It's been years now hasn’t it? When was the last time he could control his own body? Could he even remember his name?

oboKurogiri

No that’s not it…

He was OboroKurogiri.

Why can't he remember???

An insistent pulling kept tugging at his mind. Trying to do… something, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. Vaguely he knew that the pull came from something or someone else. Something unnatural was crying out in desperation and hurt. To find...what? What did he need to find?

Sighing, Kurogiri turned to Tomura. The young adult had been extraordinarily calm as he stared at the T.V. The game he was playing early was currently paused. As he continued to clean the bar’s glass, Kurogiri allowed himself to keep an eye on the man. The last time he was so still, his bar’s stools disintegrated.

“Kurogiri.”

Snapping to attention (he begs for his body to stay still, to run, to get away he doesn’t want to be here-) Kurogiri turns to the T.V that sat ominously in the bar.

“Yes, sir?” Kurogiri asked.

“Tomorrow morning, take Tomura to UA, the coordinates will be given in the morning. I think it's time we paid them a visit and gathered some material.”

Nodding his acceptance, Kurokumo can’t help but despair. He doesn’t know why. Can’t figure out who or what was at UA that he didn’t want to see. Or was the word he didn’t want to use harm? He really just couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell and it tore him apart inside.

The metal on his neck burned, he wanted to rip it off. To be free.

Instead, he polished the glasses in the bar once more.

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

Tags:

@baguettehead

[mooksie01]

With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? (1/5)

Summary: Clover doesn't care what the other Ace Ops have to say, he absolutely does NOT have a crush on Huntsman Branwen. He just admires his skill on the battlefield. And the visible results of his obviously-excellent training regiment. And his gorgeous eyes. And his mysterious demeanor. And voice.

Okay, Clover might have just a little bit of a crush on Huntsman Branwen, but that doesn't matter, because if the other Ace Ops are going to tease him relentlessly for it, then he just won't pursue any relationship with the guy!

...Maybe.

Warnings: None, really, for this chapter. Death mention in the context of a joke. Gratuitous bullying of teammates. Spoilers for RWBY Volume 7.

AO3 Link: [X] 

Notes:  Hey, so... I haven't really written for fun in over four years. Which. Is pretty crazy to think about. But my New Year's Resolution this year is to get back into it because it used to make me really happy. With that said, I'm pretty rusty nowadays, so I'm sorry if any of this reads a little awkwardly. I'm hoping to get back to the level I used to be at with some practice, but I know it'll take time. This fic is mainly my effort at shaking the dust off with my current favorite show and favorite ship.  I hope you all enjoy! Please like, reblog, and comment if you have the time to do so, I'd really appreciate some encouragement while I get back into the swing of things! FAIR GAME RIGHTS!!

---

Clover can’t say that he isn’t expecting it, but even he is a little taken by surprise when, only mere seconds after closing the door to the Ace Ops’ commons, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around with enough force to make him dizzy. 

Elm’s ecstatic face immediately fills his entire field of vision. 

Oh, Brothers.

“Clover!” 

He attempts to wave her off, feeling his face grow hot. “I’m trying to head to bed, Elm. Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow, you know.” 

Her shit-eating grin only grows larger. Her vice-grip tightens. He will not be escaping any time soon. His death warrant is signed and hidden somewhere in the mess that Elm calls her quarters. 

Elm manhandles him to the couch and shoves him down to sit, then flops down next to him and tosses her wrapped feet onto the coffee table. 

He wrinkles his nose. “Elm, please. I’ve talked to you about your feet and the table.” 

Ignoring him (as she so often does) Elm simply continues to grin smugly at him. “Who would’ve thought?! Our very own captain!” 

Clover rolls his eyes in what he hopes to be a clear sign of his exasperation. 

“Elm, what are you even talking about?” Marrow pipes up from where he is leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest in a deliberate attempt to appear uninterested, though his faintly wagging tail gives him away. Clover hadn’t even noticed him until he’d spoken. 

Looking around, he realizes that all of his subordinates are standing about the room, watching the interaction with varying degrees of interest. Just great. He considers whether or not it would be worth it to attempt to preemptively write Elm up for not-yet-conducted insubordination. 

Hm. He probably isn’t allowed to do that.

He startles as Elm yanks her feet off the table next to him, instead throwing herself forward so she can bang her fist against the helpless furniture to punctuate her next statement, “Our captain has a crush on Huntsman Branwen!” 

“Elm,” Harriet sighs, “stop being an idiot. Again. You know that he--” 

Clover pulls himself away from Elm and her interrogation couch. He stands up, straight-backed, falling into a parade rest that has his shoulders held just a little too tightly to his ears, positive that his face is red. “That’s enough,” he orders, voice as firm as he can make it, “what I do is none of your concern, Elm. Nor anyone else’s. This conversation is… unprofessional, to say the least. And it’s over.” 

Rather than be appropriately cowed by his scolding, Elm only flashes him an even bigger smile. On the other side of the room, Harriet makes a choking sound and starts to sputter, “Holy shit, you are--!”

Elm jumps to her feet, swinging a muscular arm over his shoulders. “I think you mean ‘who you do,’ Captain!” 

Clover shrugs her off, scowling. “Elm!” His mind races, attempting to formulate a way to escape this horrible situation, but it seems that no amount of luck is getting him out of this one.

“Well,” Vine rubs speculatively at his chin, finally deciding to contribute something to this dumpster-fire of a conversation, and Clover makes the split-second mistake of hoping that he will be the voice of reason to shut the whole thing down, “you can hardly blame our captain. Huntsman Branwen is, objectively, quite conventionally attractive. Not to mention his skill-level and renown in the field and all of the good he has done in the ongoing battle against Salem….” 

Clover feels his soul die a little.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Marrow throws his hands up in the air, his tail raised in visible agitation. “What are we, a buncha kids? You’ve known the guy for five minutes!” 

Elm laughs uproariously, “And he stared at Huntsman Branwen for all five! Not to mention the extra twenty seconds when he was watching him walk away!” 

Harriet gags. She looks incredibly annoyed and vaguely disgusted at this turn of events.

“That really is enough--!” Clover tries.

“Really?” Vine tilts his head, coming a few steps closer. He peers at Clover in a speculative manner. “It seems to me that it would be difficult to catch a glimpse of Huntsman Branwen’s posterior, considering that the cape he wears covers it quite effectively. Are you sure, Elm, that that is what Clover was doing?” 

“Haha!” Elm raises her hand for a high-five, which her partner passively returns.

Clover is sure his skin-tone must faintly resemble that of the Atlas Academy mess hall’s tomato soup by now. He had not been staring at Huntsman Branwen’s ass. Even if he were interested in Qrow Branwen like that, he’s too much of a gentleman to do such a thing. Besides, there were plenty of other attractive aspects of Huntsman Branwen to focus on without having to drool over his “posterior” like some sort of mangy grimm. Like his soft vermillion eyes; or his trim waist; or his hair, which looked like the shining feathers of his namesake; or his elegant hands, undoubtedly calloused from so many years of handling his weapon so skillfully…. He swallows hard and feels his face flare up anew as he realizes what train of thought he’d been taking. 

Looking up, he catches Elm smirking at him again. Marrow and Harriet have near-matching expressions of distaste. Vine is merely studying him with even more interest than before.

He opens his mouth to retaliate, only for Vine to cut him off, clasping his hands behind his back in a move so prim that it leaves Clover completely unprepared for what he says next: “I believe our captain was just lost in thought about Huntsman Branwen’s posterior again.” 

Clover coughs hard, choking on his own spit. Vaguely, he registers the sound of Elm exploding into further laughter at his expense. 

“Oh, ew, ew, ew!” Marrow covers his ears, baring his teeth at Vine and Elm and probably also Clover. 

Harriet simply glowers at all of them, “I did not need to know that.”

After a moment, Clover pulls himself together. He glares at his attackers, “Elm,” he snarls, “Vine.” 

Vine takes an even step back, cocking his head inquisitively, “I apologize, did I say something incorrect?”

Elm loops her bicep around her partner’s neck in a pseudo-chokehold that he makes no attempt to remove himself from. “No, Vine, but I believe that’s our cue to leave!” She extricates herself from him and once again brings her hand down hard on Clover’s shoulder, having apparently never learned that it isn’t wise to poke an angry bear. “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure to keep an extra eye out for your little bird!” She winks and pats him a few times with enough force to jolt his entire upper torso. “Though I’m sure you’ll already have that handled!” 

Then, in a blink, she has removed herself from the room, Vine following behind her at a more sedate pace. 

They are going to be facing so much disciplinary action, Clover thinks furiously. They will be scrubbing the floors for months. He turns to face Harriet and Marrow, who are somehow still in the room, staring at him. He crosses his arms firmly over his chest, “Do either of you have something to add?”

Marrow merely shakes his head and turns tail to leave. 

Harriet looks him over for a moment longer, then makes a sharp tsk’ing sound with her tongue. “Gross.”

She spins on her heel and walks down the hallway that leads to each of their personal rooms.

Clover sighs heavily and plops back down on the couch. It is going to be a long however-many-months with Huntsman Branwen and his students here. 

Still, he can certainly make it easier on himself by avoiding working with the other man. Even if he is incredibly attractive….

(No! Bad Clover!)

Everything will go over much more smoothly if he just isn’t seen staring at or talking to or even vaguely thinking about Huntsman Branwen from here on out.

---

More Notes: So, that was the first chapter! I hope you liked it and that it made your day a little brighter :)

The first installment is already completely finished minus some light editing. Stuff from here on out will probably be formatted as oneshots rather than chaptered fics, but I wanted this first part to be a bit longer and explore the very beginnings of our boys' relationship, with particular emphasis on Clover being a Secret Gay Disaster. Is that actually my headcanon for the show? Nah. Is that what this fic turned into? Absolutely.

Anyway, I'm currently deciding whether I want to post one chapter everyday for the next four days to finish this story up or if I want to post every other day. If anyone has any opinions on that, I'd be glad to hear them.

[acrobaticcatfeline]

Of Books, Brothers, and Broadway (Creativitwins College AU) Chapter Three!!!

Word Count: 6875

TW: Remus, Janus, cursing, ocean critters, think that’s it

Pairings: dukeceit, logince, I think mentioned moxiety, familial creativitwins, platonic everyone else with everyone else, a nice bit of parental Remus and Thomas.

Notes: It gets gay!!!!! Finally!!!! Also skirts!!!! We learn more about Thomas, who is baby TBH hes just like, Remus good boy and I agree. these two have a very close mentorship, Remus has been there for for several years and Thomas has pretty much adopted him. They have one of my favorite dynamics in this. A lot of angst comes shortly after this so enjoy the soft gays while you can.

Summary: Remus is gay and smitten. Roman is as well. The two battle to woo their brothers best friend and both succeed. Soft boys going on dates and being in love. Remus rants a bit.

By the time that they all finish dinner, Remus is more than a little excited to show Janus his lizard friends. Janus is so nice and cute and he has an interest in reptiles, and the book he wrote for the musical in progress, and god he's in love. Roman gives him permission to run off without him while he and Patton engage in ‘civilized’ conversation. So he shows Janus his room, and heck he's bringing a cute boy into his room god this is filthy, disgusting worse than the worst most cuddly pornos that he's ever sat through, this is intimate and Remus feels like his blood is going to boil. He smiles instead though, because Janus is squealing and bouncing and looking at all the little guys in the tanks and he so desperately looks like he wants to hold one but he bounces in place while sounding like a balloon with a leak.

“You want to hold one?”

“More than anything!”

Remus walks over to the tank and tries to pull out a small gecko, but his only snake slithers out and coils his arm before he could. He laughs at it, petting its little head softly and he's almost knocked unconscious by the pure joy on Janus’ face. His eyes are damn near sparkling, his bouncing has stilled as his jaw dropped.

“This little guy is a Kenyan sand boa, he's actually the only scaly friend I've ever gotten from a rescue, the rest of these guys are just local pals. His name is Amadeus. Wanna hold him?”

“Yessssssss!!!!”

Remus guided Amadeus to slither up Janus’ arm. He ended iup coiling around his neck loosely and Remus could see the effort Janus was exerting to not get too excited. He petted the snake gently, stars in his eyes as the snake seemed to lick him.

“I love him!”

“He seems to like you too”

“I’m sorry I’m being so childish heh, I just, I lose my composure with animals I guess. And theater. I suck at keeping up this uh, facade I guess I can call it”

“Why would you? You're cute like this”

Janus froze and Remus nearly backpedaled on his words before Janus broke out in a huge blush with a matching grin. He swept the bangs that were sticking out from his beanie to the side of his face as he looked back at Remus.

“Do you want to go get coffee at some point? I mean uh, we can, we can talk about the musical some more and uh, maybe I can convince you to strike up a deal of some sort?”

Remus blinked and smiled back at him. He pulled out his phone and looked at something before changing it and handing it over to jay.

“I've got a class tomorrow and then work, and I'm bringing home an octopus so I probably can't do coffee tomorrow, but how does dinner sound?”

Janus took the phone and saw a new contact page pulled up. He smiled as he entered the information and sent a standard text and handed it back.

“That sounds even better! I'm free after 4 tomorrow!”

“How does 7 sound? I'm technically back at 5:30 but I want to be here for a bit in case shit goes sideways with Cephy”

“Sounds like a date! Er, um, a plan! Sounds like... a plan..!”

“God you're gonna have to stop being so adorable before I turn myself in to the police preemptively. Anyways, Roman might be getting annoyed from having you stolen for so long, so hows about we put back Dee and pick up this convo later?”

“Great idea!”

By the time that they leave the room, Patton is ready to leave, and as jay was his ride, he had to leave as well. The four said their goodbyes, and when he thought Roman wasn't looking, Janus mimed a little ‘call me’ motion to Remus and he nearly melted as the two left. Remus flopped onto the couch, and subsequently Roman, when the door closed with a sigh.

“You've already stolen him haven't you?”

“Were going to dinner tomorrow”

“Of course you are. I'm going to have to help you get ready aren't i?”

“Yup. and I'll make dinner on Saturday and Sunday as a thank you”

“And as payment for skimping on your original day”

“Yeah sure”

~

Remus wasn’t panicking, of course not, he was totally chill. It's just that he was bringing home an octopus at the end of his shift and then he was going on a date with a cute boy and he just wasn't used to so much happening in one day. He refocused however. He was wearing his lab coat and was sitting next to the institute's recreation of the coastal ocean with pen and paper in hand. He was recording some behaviors in the dolphin they just got, and its differences in behavior compared to their other inhabitants. It was moving slower, and did not seem to like getting close to the walls. He had many questions as he continued to note its peculiarities. Thomas walked in and squatted next to him with a smile.

“You have your inquisitive look on, whats up kid?”

Remus continued to watch the dolphin intently.

“Why is she so scared of the walls?”

“Oh, she was abused by her human caretakers, she's afraid of us still. She also doesn't like our feeding rods, or when we get in to do maintenance. She's just people shy, which isn't too terrible for her or us for the time being. She hasn't lashed out, and it's only a mild inconvenience during feeding times. The longer she's here with the others, the easier it will be, animals are great at encouraging trust in others, its key for survival. But isn't she just so beautiful?”

“Definitely! Hey, weird question, do you ever get transfers from different parts of the world?”

“Sometimes, not often though, they only transfer out of country or state if its a true emergency for the most part, and we aren't really in the hierarchy for those things”

“Hmm. I really want to see an amazon river dolphin. They're so fricken cool!”

“Well, if that's something you want to see about, and you're serious about it, I have some connections with the dolphin research center as well as Clearwater, and I think they both have some that were serious rescue cases. I might be able to set you up for a summer stint if you want?”

“Oh no, no that's fine I just, it's just one of the things that made me want to pursue marine biology. It was an episode of Go Diego Go if you can believe that. They were just, so magical, and I learned more about the ocean and like, the ocean is filled with magic that we don't even know about, and it's just, I dunno. Its a bucket list thing I guess”

“Fair. mine was jellyfish and sea turtles. Finding Nemo”

Remus chuckled at the image of the doctor as a child getting starry eyed at Finding Nemo. He nodded distantly and Thomas fully sat, giving Remus a nudge on the arm.

“What's eating at you kid? You're acting distant today, is something up?”

Remus finally looks at Dr. Sanders at this, a little shocked and confused. He looks back at the water and curls his legs up close to him and lays his head on them.

“A lot is happening and I’m scared I’m going to mess something up”

“Talk to me Re”

“Well, ok so my brother is real into theater, always has been, and he asked me when we were younger to write a musical with him. And, and it's fun, don't get me wrong, but I hate hate hate showing people my writing. And now I'm showing him it regularly, on top of my writing assignments for my creative writing minor. And like, I don't know how to feel about it. But like, it's not just that. Like, I'm a full time worker here now, not an intern, but I'm not even working full time hours, and I feel like I have to prove to you and everyone else that it was worth it but I don’t have the time to put in more hours and it makes me feel so guilty because you're losing money by upping my pay and I don't know, I feel like I'm not doing enough but I know I can't do any more. And then! I'm getting Cephy and like, I know she's gonna be a lot of work, and I'm so ok with that but I’m worried I’m gonna mess up and hurt her or something! And I've got a date with a cute guy tonight and he's my brother's friend and he's so cute and we mesh so well, but I could ruin it, like I always ruin my relationships, and then what if he holds it against Roman? He’ll hate me forever and I don't know what I would do if I lost my brother too, I drive him crazy but I know he still loves me but it makes me want to die thinking about how conditional it could be, even though he's never shown me that that would ever happen it still eats at me and god I'm a mess. God I talked too much I’m sorry boss, I'll shut up now, you didn't need to hear all of that”

Thomas hides the shock and concern on his face, choosing to nod as he rubs a gentle circle in Remus’ back. The two were very very close, they were basically family at this point, Thomas having chosen to be his mentor the moment he met him. He waits a moment to choose his words before speaking.

“I can't pretend that I totally understand your problems, but I'm aware that that isn't what you're looking for. So lets start with something easy. Cephy will not get hurt with you. There is not a single doubt in my mind that you won't be able to, while you were the only applicant, if we didn't know you were responsible enough to care for her with complete certainty and confidence, we would have sent her home with one of our older scientists. This was a long discussion and I know that you will do exactly what you have to to keep her safe. Two, you were not promoted because we needed you to work more. As I've said since you've started here, your studies come first. You were promoted because you did amazing work with what little you are allowed to do as an intern, and we could see that you would do even better with less restrictions. This was meant to give you the ability to learn more and aid in your work ethic. We don't need you to spread yourself too thin so you can work more, we have enough people for you to only work part time”

Remus nodded, he was trying to believe him, he really was, but his head kept turning them around with what ifs. He stayed silent as Thomas paused again.

“Your writing is personal, creative work always is, it is a bearing of your soul and its reasonable to be hesitant in sharing it. Even more so when it's to an overly creative person. But if I know anything about your brother, it's that he is a kind and uncritical person. You don't seem to have any reason to distrust him with it. I know that sometimes your head makes you nervous and casts doubt over others intentions, but it isn't healthy for you to be unable to trust even someone as close as your brother. And, if you let him know your feelings on it all, I'm sure he would be willing to work on it with you. This ties in with the other bit. If you have no reason to believe that something like a break up would cause your brother to hate you, then it's likely not the case. Trust that he values his relationship with you enough to endure the small likelihood of a break up between you and his friend. His friend is a bit of a wild card to you right now but just, give it a shot. It might go better than you can imagine”

Remus felt like he was about to cry. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and took deep breaths. He pulled his hands away and looked at Thomas as he leaned slowly into a hug with the older man. Thomas smiled and wrapped his arms around the other and they sat there a moment in silence.

“Thank you Dr. Sanders”

“This is an emotional moment, call me Thomas”

“... thank you Thomas”

Remus had calmed down and felt far better after his conversation with Thomas, he was pretty zen as he drove home with Cephy on his passenger side. He parked outside he and Roman’s house and dialed Roman’s number. Roman picked up on the second ring.

“You back?”

“Yup. can you get the door for me, I don't want to set Ceph down on the ground”

“On it”

Remus got out of his car, opening the passenger door and lifting the rather small tank carefully in his arms. He felt bad for her getting stuck in such a small carrier tank. He got to the door and saw Roman in the doorway. Roman held out his arms.

“I imagine if I hold the tank I won't have to transfer her into the big one? So hand her over.

Remus chuckled and did so. He slid past then, opening the door to his room and lifting the cover on the big tank. He pulled on plastic gloves and did the same to the carrier. He laughed as Cephy’s arms immediately swung over the side of it. Roman nearly screamed and dropped the thing when one of her tentacles stuck onto him. Luckily he just hummed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. Remus carefully picked Ceph up, placing her oh so delicately on the little rock shelf near the top before he released her and she dove to the depths of it quickly, swimming around happily, likely glad to have room again. Roman rushed to the bathroom, shouting as he went.

“REMUS CAN I DUMP THIS???”

“GO AHEAD! IF SHE NEEDS TO TRANSFER AGAIN I’LL JUST PUT HER IN IT WHEN ITS EMPTY, SHE CAN SURVIVE OUT OF WATER FOR A BIT”

“WHY IS SHE SO FUCKING SLIMY???”

“SHE'S AN OCTOPUS WHAT DID YOU EXPECT???”

Remus pulled off the gloves and tossed them, placing the tank lid on again before going back to the car to get the rest of her supplies. When he finished unloading, Roman was back out of the bathroom with the tank now placed under the other one in the living room. His hair, which was about shoulder length, was tied up in a hair tie, his bangs pinned up and he was wearing a black crop top with golden print of a crown and shorts. He had a makeup bag in one hand and a hair brush in the other. He had the most sinister smirk on his face.

“K, go take a shower and change into shitty clothes so we can try some faces. Go on! Its 5:45 and I need an hour to get you in order”

Remus opened his mouth and shut it, knowing that Roman was right. He sulked to his room, grabbing some pjs and heading to the bathroom.

“Roman I’m going to look like a clown with all this makeup, why are we even doing this?”

“Because you want to look nice, and you'll look better if you do a little bit of makeup to accentuate your features. And also because you suck at shaving so I'm hiding the welts you gave yourself. He won't want to kiss you if you look like you've been eating out a beehive. Now sit still! We still have to choose your outfit and deal with your hair!”

Remus did as told, pouting as he did so. Roman finally, finally put down the makeup brush. He pulled up a mirror and Remus gasped at his reflection. His face looked clear and smooth, and his cheeks had color. But his eyes were stunning. They were black on the lid, but it faded into a sparkly green shade and gosh Remus loved it.

“I’ll put some lipstick on you when you're done changing. Don’t want to accidentally stain anything”

“Ro I love it!!!!”

“Good. ok clothes next. Where are you guys going?”

Remus blinked and felt himself flush and Roman rolled his eyes. He walked into Remus’ closet with a sigh.

“Typical. Ugh, men. Jay likes anything, he's pretty basic on that, I'd say go to olive garden. Mid Range price but nice aesthetic. Plus he eats bread sticks like an actual snake. He’ll love it. Maybe plan your next date a little more though”

Remus nodded, eternally grateful for the suggestion. He followed Roman as he flipped through his clothes. Roman sighed again.

“You're so lucky I saw his outfit and know it isn't too regal, otherwise I would make you push it to later and buy you new clothes. Here, how about this?”

He pulled out his skull shirt, some ripped jeans, his leather jacket, and his fingerless gloves. Remus smiled.

“He's not against punk?”

“Of fucking course not, did you not see his outfit yesterday? He's a baby pastel punk. He thought you looked good yesterday, he’ll think you’re the sexiest mother fucker tonight if I do this right so get changed”

Remus did so, not caring enough to be modest as he changed in front of his brother. They'd seen each other in less, it didn't matter. He grabbed some socks as well for the outfit, pulling them up before tugging on his jeans. He carefully pulled his shirt over his head, keeping it from hitting his face. He was swinging his arms through his jacket when Roman grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the proper part of his room. He sat down and Roman ruffled his hair before grabbing his hairbrush. 

“Ok so we’re making this look decent. Ok so you’ve got the fucking fade done, so how about the nice swoop?”

“I have no idea what language you're speaking”

“Okay it was a rhetorical question anyways. Lemme grab my gel”

Roman poured a decent heap of gel into his hands, rubbing them together before raking them through Remus’ hair. He then took his comb and moved his hair all over to the right. He pulled a few strands free to fall in his face then pulled away and smiled as he wiped the excess gel off with some wipes. He gestured to the mirror next to Remus and once he looked at it, Remus was once again astounded.

“Roman what the fuck kind of sorcery?”

“I'm a theatre major, I dabble in makeup and hair”

“Dabble???”

“Oh honey you should see Patton at work”

“Roman, grab my docs”

“Which ones?”

Remus knew that while a valid question, it was also meant to tease and he narrowed his eyes at him. He pointed at the ones still on his shelf that had skulls. He rarely wore them, and was ecstatic at having the chance to. Roman brought them to him and he slipped them on with practiced ease.

“I think you owe me for this”

“If I give you Logan's number will we be even?”

Roman sputtered and blushed but nodded shyly. Remus grinned. He texted Logan to get his ok, which he got instantly, then sent the number to Roman.

“There you go! Now, I have a date to get to!”

“You have his address?”

“Of course not”

“You fucking spoon. I’ll text it to you”

“At least I’m not gaysexual”

“What the absolute fuck did you just say?”

“Spoonsexual?”

“Leave before I break your fucking neck”

“Fair, have a nice day”

Remus pulled up to Janus’ dorm room expecting many things. None of which he got. Janus was dressed in a black crop top with a turtleneck, a high waisted pastel yellow skirt that reached his mid thighs, and soft yellow thigh high socks. He was wearing bright yellow converse and had a golden flower headband. Remus thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. When Janus gets in his car he finally tears his eyes away as he goes to start driving again.

“You look nice Jan”

“As do you”

Remus avoids speaking, hoping that Janus will start talking and getting more anxious as he doesn't. Janus is playing with his skirt wait, his? Is his still a thing?

“Might I ask if you're still using he him pronouns?”

Janus looks up suddenly and smiles as a blush forms on their? Face.

“Oh, yeah, he/him all around, they them is good as well, but yeah”

“Ok cool”

“...I’m sorry I’m being so awkward, I'm a little on edge”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest actually. Um, where are we going?”

“My two brain cells fucked off and didn't think of that until about an hour ago, but Roman told me you liked olive garden so we’re going to olive garden”

Janus giggled and god if Remus wasn’t already gay, he wouldve been the ambassador of queerland to hear that again. He smiled and sent him a quick look, feeling his cheeks darken as he saw Janus looking at him.

“That sounds great! So um, how's the musical going?”

“Hm? Oh, it's going well. Uh, sort of. I've gotten a bit stuck on the script, and Roman’s hit a roadblock in the songs. I'm a little uh, let's say bad, at writing things like this. It's uh, it's far more tame than my usual stuff, but Roman isn't one for my more graphic shit, you know how it is. He's all unicorns and rainbows and im blood and porn, so writing something he would like is tricky to say the least. It's far easier to just translate all my night terrors and intrusive thoughts to paper than to actually be creative”

“Well, your night terrors and intrusive thoughts may be you know, normal or whatever to you, but I'm sure your writings about them are just as good! Creativity takes many forms and seeks different inspiration! I would love to see more of your writing, if it's ok with you?”

“Oh, no they're, they're shitty, you don't want to see them. They're about eldritch monsters and serial killers and they're really bad, I don't want to subject you to that”

“Nonsense! Like I said, I'm sure they’re amazing! But if you're uncomfortable showing me, then that's ok too”

Remus shuts up, avoiding the end of this conversation. Except he digs absently in the back seat and pulls out a notebook, handing it to Janus.

“It's filled with them. It's my last notebook, I suggest you just borrow it and not try and read them over dinner. Some of them make me a little sick to read. But uh, yeah. Go ahead”

Janus looks at it, the little doodles that are sprawled over the cover, and then looks at Remus with his eyes filled with stars. And Remus almost crashes, he’ll admit it, but that is a look that no one has ever given him before and he might actually die this time. They're at olive garden though, so he gets out and rushes to the other side to open the door for Janus who giggles again.

“So where'd you come up with the idea for the musical?”

Remus looked up from his food at Janus. Janus had his hands pressed together and he looked insatiable for answers. He smiled, licking his lips before explaining.

“When me and Roman were kids one of our favorite movies was the nutcracker. Around the same time that he said he wanted to write a musical, our uncle took us to the ballet of the Nutcracker live, it was our Christmas present from him. It was, well it was magical. So that was part of it. But like, as a kid I always loved reading. I found that I had loved some characters more than I had loved anyone outside my family. I had crushes throughout my life, but none of them really worked out, so I ran back to stories, it gave me something permanent and I dunno, I had a recurring dream where I would wake up and the hero or villain of my favorite books would be there and would love me. It's uh, it's a bit pathetic now that I say it out loud”

“No! Its, cute”

Janus was leaning on his hand as he stared and listened to Remus, moving to be more attentive in his posture, both arms on the table, with an insistent look on his face at Remus’ last words.

“It's not pathetic to want to be loved! It's hard to feel like you aren’t. I used theater as my escape from my shitty situation, and now I'm in college spending more money than I will ever use on anything else to pursue my escape as my reality. Sometimes it seems silly, but it makes me happy, so it's not useless. I mean, what other group would look at some guy with scars enough to play Deadpool who wears frilly skirts for fun and accept him? Definitely not any group from my home”

Remus frowns a bit.

“Anyone with half a brain”

Janus smiles at him.

Remus was dropping Janus off. He did not want to be dropping him off, he wanted to be taking him home and talking mindlessly for hours about nothing and everything, but Janus had to go, he had a shift in the morning. And Remus did as well, but all he could think of was how wonderful the night had been, and he didn't want it to end. They were standing outside, had been for a while, both of them trying to drag this out. Janus shivered and Remus immediately toar off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Janus was blushing again.

“You don't have to do that, I'm right outside my door!”

“Yeah, but this way I have an excuse to see you again”

Janus smiled and shuffled slightly. He mumbled something incoherent and Remus’ eyebrow rose.

“What was that?”

“I would really like to kiss you, if that's alright?”

Remus felt his skin burning at the question. He nodded, leaning down to kiss him. It wasn't fireworks. It was a chocolate fountain, soft and sweet and smooth, and they were pulling away and Janus looked completely blissed out. Remus felt the same way as he leaned back against the car again. He smirked and gestured to the dorm.

“You should probably head in, it's getting late”

“Yeah. yeah I should. I don't want to but I should. Um, I'll see you again?”

“That jacket is too expensive to leave with someone I don't plan on seeing again”

Janus smiled and nodded. He finally turned to go inside, and Remus waited until the door shut behind him to get back in his car and drive home. He starts the ignition as his phone rings.

“Roman holy shit Roman I’m in love help”

“Of course you are”

“Roman he wanted to read my stories”

“Well yeah, he's already shown interest in your writing-”

“No but the dark shit Roman, the nightmare fuel the terrors and murderers and the dark gritty shit I never show anyone”

“Yeah, he's really into that kinda thing. He's a fan of that genre”

“But he's, he's so soft!”

“Yeah, you only just got to his second layer of that, he's got a bunch of soft covering up the gritty fucked up interior. His words not mine. He's got some shit buried, Patton knows a bit more than me, but he really tries to keep that hidden. I knew you two would hit it off, you're very similar”

“I want to know it all Ro. I want to know everything about him, I want to know what he's afraid of and what his parents told him before bed and what dreams he has and what makes him tick and god I want to kiss him forever and never stop”

“That is the sappiest thing you've ever said. Want some coffee?”

“It's almost midnight”

“Did I stutter?”

~

Roman was distracted. He was at work, so he really shouldn't be, he didn't really have the time, but he and Logan had been texting since Remus sent him his number, and Roman had caught feelings hard. He was super hot honestly, which was unfair Roman thought, he's half his size he shouldn't be allowed to be so attractive. But they had been sending selfies back and forth, mostly because they were both too occupied with their hands and Roman fucking adored it. There was one of Logan in a tie that was slightly loosened and he was giving the camera some sort of smoulder. Roman had decided after that to explain that he was working and turn off his phone. He went to the back of the shop to grab some replacement baked goods to bring up front and he thanks his years in dance that he didn't fall when he saw Logan at the counter. He was still in his polo and tie, but the tie had been tightened and he looks significantly more innocent than he did in the photo. Roman set down the boxes and moved to greet him.

“Howdy hot stuff, haven't seen you around here, what are you craving?”

Logan smirked back. Suddenly Roman was grateful the shop was in a lull, and he's sure Logan was too as he looked him up and down.

“Well, if we’re honest I'm in the mood for a tall cup of sexy, but it doesn't seem like you're on the menu, so I'll go with a salted caramel mocha. I think its a close second in sweetness”

Roman is completely red, very unprepared for any of what was said. Logan's smirk breaks into a smile and he laughs. And Roman quickly gets to preparing his drink before he combusts. He mutters the price quietly as he makes it.

“Aren't you supposed to have me pay first? Or am I being treated by a knight in shining armor?”

“You're going to give me a heart attack, I hope you know”

“You can't expect to tease me and get away without consequence can you? You'd have to take me to dinner first to get away with that”

“I did not tease you, if anything, you were teasing me, you foul beast!”

“Oh so me sending a picture of me in full clothes is teasing, but you in your gym outfit is just the norm?”

“Of course!”

“Mhmm. keep telling yourself that hot stuff. I suppose if I did the same, you would find no problem then?”

“Wha, you go to the gym?”

“Yes, it is healthy and I attempt to keep a healthy lifestyle. In a word… duh”

Roman felt warm all over again, far more attracted to the idea than he was consciously ok with. The two had been flirting incessantly, and Roman may have teased the poor nerd a bit, but he still didn't deserve this!

“So then if the price of free teasing is dinner, then how about dinner tonight?”

“Hmm, irresponsible to wait until the day of to ask someone to dinner, but I am free tonight, so consider yourself lucky. 7 work?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be waiting for your fine ass at 7”

“Oh dear, how have you ever wooed a woman? How dare you objectify me like I'm a hunk of meat?”

“You're definitely a hunk, that's for sure. A true himbo”

“Falsehood, I have a functioning brain, you are the himbo between the two of us”

Logan grinned at him as he finished paying and took his drink. He waved as he walked away.

“Seeya tonight sweetcheeks!”

Roman didn't know what he signed up for but he was so in.

“Yeah so you don't have to worry about dinner tonight, I've managed to seduce Logan into dinner with me”

“Is that how it happened? Logan told a very different story”

“Ok no, but don't let the truth get in the way of a good story!”

“Yeah sure whatever, I guess that means I'm getting the house to myself?”

“Yup! If jay comes over please try to remember our agreement and dont fuck in the common areas?”

“What? One, of course not, I’m not a heathen, and two, we’ve been on one date, I’m a gentleman, no sex until at least the third date!”

“Mhmm. likely story”

“Oh, and one last request, if shit happens with you two, don't tell me anything you wouldn't say in a pg13 movie. If it's worse I don't want to know, I still have to go to class with him on Monday”

“Deal”

“What's cooking good looking?”

Logan was stepping in the car and rolled his eyes at the line.

“No idea, you're the one in charge of food if I can recall”

Roman thinks it's very rude how easily the nerd can manage to take his breath away. He pouts a little.

“Why were you so shy when I first met you, cuz you obviously aren't”

“Nerves. I wasn't expecting to meet someone attractive when dropping off Remus’ belongings and I startle easily”

“Attractive huh?”

“Don't get too excited, if there's nothing else other than good looks I don't imagine this will go anywhere”

“Fair, I could say the same to you”

Logan sent him a sideways glance. He was also ungodly attractive. He was wearing a black v neck shirt, black jeans, and a blazer and Roman didn't think anyone could pull off a nerd look and be hot but counter evidence was sitting in his passenger seat. Roman was wearing white jeans, a simple gryffindor t-shirt, and his letterman jacket from his high school that was a nice red and gold. He also had simple makeup done, as well as his hair being tied back, leaving his bangs to frame his face purposefully. He was really hoping this went somewhere.

“So, where are we going, might I ask?”

“Depends, do you like Japanese cuisine?”

“Yes, I'm a fan of it, why?”

“Well it was between cheesecake factory and Benihana, and we have now decided”

“Benihana? Roman, that's really expensive, we don't have to go there, I know I joked about you buying the ability to tease, but you don't have to pour a fortune into a first date!”

“Nonsense! As you said, I teased you unfairly, consider it an apology and a bribe”

“...I can already tell that you're even more stubborn than your brother”

“We came by it honestly!”

“So you're a theater major right? So you do the big three, acting, singing, and dancing? I imagine you aren't a fan of writing considering Remus is writing for your musical, but do you do any traditional arts?”

Roman was mid bite of sushi when the question came. He set down his chopsticks and grabbed his napkin to cover his mouth as he finished chewing. He finally set it down and smiled.

“I am and I do, but I do enjoy writing, but it's garbage compared to what Remus writes. As much as I'm not a fan of his subject matters, his writing is undeniably amazing. My writing is very ah, fluffy. Not much sustenance. And like, fanfiction, but that isn't like, real writing-”

“Fanfiction is real writing. Every idea is based and influenced by countless things, sometimes without realizing it. Besides, it takes a lot of the most menial and boring part of the storytelling process out. Exposition is just as difficult to write as it is to read, in fanfictions you get to start right where the interesting part starts, no boring history that means nothing to the plot other than for throwaway lines. Sorry for interrupting I just have uh, I have strong opinions on the subject. Continue, please”

Roman might’ve gone red again but he was shocked at Logan's response. It felt… nice to have the validation in the writing he enjoys. He did however, go back to the original question.

“Um, and uh, yeah I do traditional art, I don't really get? Digital art? It's just confusing to me so I just do the bare sketchbook. I think I have some pictures of them on my phone if you'd like to see them?”

“I'm actually quite intrigued. May i?”

Roman grabbed his phone and pulled up his gallery, choosing his art folder and handed Logan the phone. He went back to eating as Logan scrolled through.

“You and Remus have such similar styles in art, I'm surprised. Definitely different tastes in what you draw, but the style itself is almost indistinguishable. Did you learn together?”

“Hmm? I mean, yeah sort of. We both drew a lot when we were little, but other than the little doodles in his musical notebook I haven't seen any of his art in years”

“Hmm. I suppose that makes sense, he's very secretive and protective of his creative works. I wasn’t ever allowed to see his writing until we were paired for a writing project. Creativity is incredibly personal, and while many seek validation and approval, he seems to fit the other type that fears rejection. I can assure you, his art looks a lot like yours but far more ah, violent. And usually a fair amount of tentacles”

Roman smiled softly, he was happy to know that Remus hadn’t stopped drawing. Logan was still swiping through, eating rather absentmindedly. Suddenly Logan sat up and Roman swore that his eyes glittered.

“Is this the Marquis de Carabas???”

Roman looked at the phone and indeed it was an image of his version of the character. He nodded and smiled as Logan smiled back.

“Yeah, I was messing with plague doctor masks, and I had just finished the book. He was always very birdlike to me, so I thought it fit”

“Roman this is incredible! His coat is perfect and, and his hat? Goodness, this is so pretty!!!”

“Meh, it's not my best. I drew Door as well, I think she's a better piece personally”

“I didn't take you as someone who would like Gaiman”

“Remus loves him and he's another talented author. Besides, Terry Pratchet was one of my favorite authors and I fucking love Good Omens. Oh and I grew up on Doctor Who so that also helped”

“You like Doctor Who?”

“Hell yeah! It's probably in my top favorite TV shows I've ever watched”

Roman was walking Logan to his door and they were still chatting when they reached it.

“This was nice Roman. Thanks for taking me out”

“My pleasure. I got to spend a nice night with a radiant man”

He smirked and was ready to watch Logan step inside when Logan grabbed his jacket and yanked him down into a kiss. He stood there with his arms awkwardly floating for a moment before he wrapped them around Logan's waist. It was quick, Logan pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first I-”

Roman leaned back in, crashing his lips against Logan’s,and it felt like a forest fire. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and smiled into it. It was passionate and wild and warm and Roman felt like every inch of his skin was burning and he never wanted to let go. They did though, and Roman stared a moment at Logan's face, admiring the blush that colored it. He knew he wasn't any better. They stayed there until Logan finally spoke.

“Do you um, do you want to come inside?”

Roman released him, and had to hold back a chuckle at the sad whine that left Logan when he did so. He leaned back in, placing a small kiss on his nose before stepping back.

“Sorry doll, not on the first date. ‘Sides, I have work in the morning. Maybe next time though. Text me”

Logan nodded and watched longingly as Roman got in his car and drove away. He sighed softly before stepping inside of his home, reminding himself to get another date with Roman, and soon.

Roman was about to shout about how his date went when he walked in, but he saw the lights in the house were all off. He walked to the living room and cooed at the scene he was greeted by. Remus was sprawled over the couch, one leg on the floor and one arm over the back of the couch, and Janus laying on top of him, curled up small with his head over Remus’ chest and Remus’ other arm wrapped protectively around him. The two were both passed out and Roman chuckled. He went to his room and came back with a blanket to cover them with before going to his room to sleep as well.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @booklover223

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 17

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~5100

Rating: R (language, implied inability to consent)

Summary: Drake goes to Ramsford while he figures out his next steps, Leo has something to ask Liam, and Hana is at her wit’s end

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna throw a trigger warning here that there is an interaction in this chapter where a man is clearly looking to engage in sexual activity with a woman who is not able to consent at that time. There is no actual sexual assault or violence, but it’s the type of thing that may hit close to home, so I thought I’d give some warning. It’s in the third and final “section” of this chapter if you wish to avoid it.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

“Hello?” Drake called out, glancing around as he stepped into the foyer of the Ramsford estate. He wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t any staff to greet him, given the Beaumont’s current financial situation, but he figured he should announce his presence somehow. Not just lurk around until someone found him. He was pretty sure he was the only person invited for dinner tonight, after all.

He hadn’t really wanted to come for this dinner, but when Savannah had called him, excited that he was still around and inviting him over now that she was settled at Ramsford, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no. He’d seen so little of his sister over the past couple of years, and even before then, he’d always found it hard to tell her “no.” So here he was, hoping that Maxwell and Bertrand had enough whiskey to get him through the evening.

“Drake, is that you?” Maxwell’s voice called out, echoing through the halls as he rounded the corner, “Hey, glad you could make it!”

“Yeah…” Drake trailed off as Maxwell came over. Maxwell was clearly going in for the hug, but thought better of it when he saw the look on Drake’s face. 

“So, yeah. Dinner might be a bit yet. Savannah is cooking but Bertrand has decided to ‘supervise’ as this is ‘their first dinner party’ as a couple or whatever. I wandered through the kitchen about 20 minutes ago, and it was not exactly going great.”

Drake just shook his head, “I hardly qualify as a dinner party.”

“Yeah, well… try telling Bertrand that. Do you want a drink while we wait for whatever the hell we’re gonna get for dinner at some point?”

“What do you think?”

“Right, stupid question. Come on, I’ll get you some whiskey.”

Drake followed Maxwell through the halls to the private lounge and took a seat on one of the couches as Maxwell wandered over to the bar cart and preparing a whiskey on the rocks and a glass of white wine before he joined Drake on the opposite sofa.

“So, has Riley been having a good time with Hana?”

“What?”

“Hana told me they were going to check out Riley’s favorite place for Chinese take out today and that she was going to see how it stacked up to authentic Cantonese cuisine. I was wondering if you’d heard the final verdict.”

“Maxwell, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Hana’s in New York,” said Maxwell, squinting slightly as he took a sip of his wine. “Drake, did you not know that?”

“No, she uhh… didn’t tell me that.” Drake downed his whiskey in one, pushing himself up off the couch and stalking over the liquor. That information warranted another drink.

Hana was in New York with Riley. Riley couldn’t be bothered to text him, but she was taking Hana out and keeping Maxwell posted about everything they were up to, apparently. It just was him she wanted nothing to do with. 

It was like every other time, and this time, he knew it was his own damn fault that she left him. He’d fucked everything up. He drank his second glass in one swig. He just wanted to go back to his quarters and be alone with his pain, but he could hardly duck out of a family dinner where he was the only guest. Pouring himself one more whiskey, he took a deep breath and rejoined Maxwell. He was gonna have to get through this night somehow.

Maxwell glanced up, tapping his finger on the side of his wine glass as Drake sat down. The silence was tense for a few moments before Maxwell broke it. 

“Drake, I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear. I’m just worried about Riley and I thought maybe-”

Drake jerked his head up and stared at Maxwell, “Why are you worried about Liu?”

Maxwell tensed for a second, “Look, I’m not trying to butt in where it’s not my business or anything-”

“Really? Since when have you had any sense of boundaries?” Drake snapped

“Hey! I’ve given you plenty of space! I get that you and Liam had to work through your… issues, or whatever. But she’s like my sister, and I have a right to be worried about her, too!”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s all my fucking fault. I already feel like shit about it so-”

“Oh come on, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Then what’s your fucking point?”

Maxwell let out a sigh, “I’m just trying to make sure that both of my friends are doing okay and not isolating themselves and being all lonely and mopey and deciding that it’s better if no one knows that they are actually hurting.”

Drake took a deep breath, “Since when did you get so fucking insightful?”

“My greatest strength is that everyone underestimates me. It let’s me see things,” he said with a shrug.

“Huh,” was all Drake could muster, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“So, if you can promise not to jump down my throat, I’d like to ask how you are.”

Drake grimaced, “I’ll be fine. It just sucks right now because all I can do is wait for the other shoe to drop.”

Maxwell frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you could probably guess from my reaction, Riley’s basically ghosting me. I’m just waiting for the inevitable breakup text.”

“Or, she’s mopey and isolating herself, you know, like I said,” countered Maxwell.

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“So go back and talk to her. The people behind the attacks are behind bars and you, Liam, and Olivia all said that things are looking good from that standpoint. You took care of what you needed to here, time to go take care of things with one Riley Liu.”

Drake shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Maxwell. I don’t even know if she wants me there.”

“I never said it would be simple. But you don’t know what’s going through her mind right now, right? So maybe she wants you there with her or maybe she doesn’t. There’s really only one way to find out.”

Drake bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to keep calm. He couldn’t let Maxwell know that he didn’t know if he could deal with the possibility of face to face rejection from Riley. Not now, after he’d come to think that she might be the one woman who would stay. When Savannah left, it had nearly broken him completely. If he had to watch Riley leave him, too… well, he didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Hey,” called out Maxwell, forcing Drake to divert his attention away from his spiraling thoughts, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think she wants to leave you. But even if she does, wouldn’t it be easier to move forward knowing you did everything you could to try and make things right?”

After a few seconds, after processing the fact that Maxwell could apparently read him like a book, all Drake could say in response was, “Damn, you’re right.”

Maxwell smiled, “I’m fucking insightful, remember?”

Drake laughed at that, raising his glass to clink against Maxwell’s.

After taking a sip of his wine, Maxwell pulled out his phone, “Speaking of being insightful, what do you think the odds are that dinner preparations have completely fallen off the rails?”

“I’m going with about an 80% chance.”

“My thoughts exactly. So shall we preemptively order some pizza?”

Drake smiled and nodded as Maxwell called the restaurant he always used for late night sustenance at Beaumont Bashes. It was strange to think that Maxwell was now a close enough friend that he felt okay about talking with him about anything he was feeling. More than that, he realized that he had misjudged Maxwell a lot over the years. But if the past year had taught him anything, it was that Maxwell had pretty decent awareness when it came to a lot of things. He’d seen the value in Riley before any of them, after all. 

Drake knew he probably should apologize for some things he’d said in the past, both to and about Maxwell, but maybe bringing up his past intolerance of the man was not the best way to go. So instead, he waited until Maxwell finished placing the order and hung up the phone before he got up and walked over to the liquor once again.

“You need a refill, best friend roomie?”

The subsequent shriek of joy was loud enough to bring Savannah and Bertrand running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam sighed, rubbing his eyes as he scanned through the final reports on all the interrogations. Starting tomorrow, some the initial hearings were happening in public court. Liam had pushed for expedited trials, knowing that the people had been through enough with these attacks and didn’t need the court proceedings to drag at a glacial pace. Of course, this meant he was giving himself less time to develop a firm grasp on the details of the three men whose trials were starting this week for when the press inevitably asked for comments. Still, he knew the prosecutors had it worse, and he was grateful the team of attorneys had agreed with his plan yesterday, even agreeing to meet with Bastien’s agents on a weekend.

He’d slept in his office last night, reviewing the files well past midnight. When he woke up with his head hanging over the arm of his sofa, he’d scurried off to the Monarch’s Quarters, quickly getting freshened up before heading back to his office. He chose his desk this time, hardly able to risk drifting off to sleep again, but it was still hard to stay focused. The reports were full of so many conflicting details, it was hard to keep who said what straight, and he’d been at if for hours at this point. He was about to get up and stretch his legs for a few minutes, but heard a couple of knocks on the door. Before he could call out a greeting, the door swung open, Leo walking straight in and over to the side cupboards.

“Why hello, Leo. Please, come in.”

Leo paused to turn to Liam. “Why, thanks brother!” he said in an exaggerated manner, winking as he looked back towards the wall units, “I was thinking of fixing myself a drink; would you like one?” 

Liam glanced at the clock on the wall. “Leo, it’s not even noon,” he chastised, “and you won’t find the whiskey in that cupboard.”

Leo stopped rifling through to cupboard and walked over to Liam’s desk, a wide grin spread across his face. As he plunked himself down in one of the chairs facing Liam, he raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. After a moment, Liam sighed and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out the Highland Park whiskey and two glasses.

“Keeping it close at hand, nice. I have to say, I like your style. Dad always kept his booze tucked behind the books. Your way is much wiser,” Leo said, accepting the glass from Liam.

“So what brings you by my office? We haven’t seen much of you around the palace the past couple of days.”

“Well, it seemed like things were pretty hectic around here. I thought I would give you some space while you dealt with all the official business. Besides, the casinos worry that something has happened to me if I’m around for more than two days and don’t make an appearance,” he joked. “Anyway, I just came by to let you know I’m flying out tomorrow.”

Liam took a sip of whiskey and nodded. He’d been expecting this since the funeral. He was actually kind of surprised Leo had stuck around Cordonia as long as he had. “Where are you heading this time?”

“I’m spending the next week in Havana, then it’s on to Rio.”

“Of course. Well, you know you’re welcome back anytime. Keep in touch, okay?”

“Yeah…” Leo said, trailing off and looking down at the surface of the desk. It seemed odd to Liam. Usually, when Leo said he was leaving, he appreciated a light-hearted goodbye. Liam figured years of Father attempting to guilt him into staying had taken their toll, so he always tried to show Leo that he understood his need to explore, to go elsewhere. But today, that seemed to bother him, and Liam wasn’t sure why.

“Is something wrong, Leo?”

Leo paused for a moment before he spoke, “You’re doing okay, right?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, you’re okay with the fact that I don’t spend much time in Cordonia, right?”

“Where is this coming from, Leo?”

Leo shook his head, “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t hear what Drake said to me the other day. I know you overhead us.”

Liam nodded slowly. He hadn’t heard everything, but he’d heard enough. And while the fact that Drake had mentioned being torn away from his life had been of more interest to Liam at that time, the fact that Drake had told Leo that he was a bad brother was also something that had stuck in his mind.

“It didn’t seem like the type of statement you’d put much stock in, if I’m being honest.”

Leo tensed at that. “He called me a shitty brother, Liam! Of course it stuck with me! Do you think so little of me that you thought I wouldn’t care about that?”

“Of course not. I just thought that you knew better than to hold Drake’s anger as a source of universal truth, not to mention you never seemed to mind being told you weren’t living up to expectations in this building.”

Leo gave Liam a small smile, “So, you don’t think I’ve been a bad brother to you?”

“No, I don’t feel that way.”

“But Drake was right. I haven’t really been around, I tend to get caught up in my own interests. I definitely have failed you in some ways.”

Liam shook his head, “I don’t expect you to care for me in the same fashion as Drake. He has his way of doing things, you have yours.”

“He called me your drinking buddy.”

Liam chuckled at that, “That’s an interesting perspective. It lacks some nuance, but yes, I suppose you do get me to let go of certain stressors temporarily by encouraging me to indulge in a variety of vices. It’s helpful at times, so I wouldn’t be so dismissive of it.”

Leo just shook his head, “Come on, you don’t need to shield me. If you need to get pissed at me, I get it.”

“Why would I need to get pissed at you?”

“I abdicated, for Christ’s sake! I left you with all the responsibility.”

“And didn’t I encourage you to take that course of action?”

“Yes, but Drake said-”

“Forget what Drake said. His interpretation of our relationship is highly irrelevant, and Drake is going to think what he’s going to think. I am telling you, I do not resent you for abdicating. Being Crown Prince was killing you; you were miserable. I love you, and I want to see you happy. How could I ever hold you taking an action that greatly improved your happiness against you?”

“But I want to see you happy, too.”

“I know you do. I presume that’s why you are very willing to take the full blame for indiscretions conducted by either of us.”

Leo scoffed a little, “Sure, when we were little.”

“And now. I heard Regina had some choice words for you after our night of drinking before the funeral.”

“She said she was amazed that after all this time, I still found a way to be a bad influence on you,” Leo said with a little smile.

“Exactly, and you let her believe that. Leo, you’ve always shown you care about me in your own way. I’ve never felt like you didn’t love me just because we want very different things out of life.”

“Still, the weight of the crown-”

“Is something that I don’t see as a barrier to my long-term happiness. It’s a responsibility, sure, but I am honored that our people trust me as their leader.”

Leo stared at Liam for a few seconds before throwing the whiskey back and finishing his drink. “You’re a good king, you know that right?”

Liam smiled gently, “Thank you, Leo. I appreciate that.”

“And I don’t just mean better than I would have been. You are a good leader. Cordonia is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. But I think you would have been a better king than you give yourself credit.”

Leo just laughed, “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.” He stood to leave and strolled over to the door, but before he opened it, he spun back to face Liam.

“Do you mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

Liam inclined his head, “I would be a bad king if I couldn’t handle friendly advice.”

“Right, well this more personal than professional.”

“If it’s about Madeleine, give your history, that seems like a rather awkward topic-”

“Nah, it’s more general than that. Just... you need to be selfish sometimes. Not often, let’s say once a week. But you need to do something, no matter how small, that’s just for you.”

“Leo…”

“Promise me you’ll at least consider it. Remember, I love you, so that means I like seeing you happy. And I know you well enough that you might forget about your own happiness if things get hectic. So add it to your schedule or something, but remember, once a week, one thing, just for you.” And with that he was out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hana felt... well, the only way to describe it was gross. She knew that her plan for the evening was not something that was completely acceptable, morally speaking. But she hadn’t known what else to do.

All weekend, Riley had been completely uninterested in talking about anything of substance. She’d listened to Hana just fine and told plenty of amusing anecdotes. However, anytime Hana asked her how she was doing or if she needed to talk about anything, Riley had just brushed her off, saying she was fine before suddenly remembering a story about a funny customer or something of that sort. It was always lighthearted and superficial. There was never one iota of depth to anything she said. It had been shopping and restaurants and tourist attractions before Riley scurried off to get ready for work both Saturday and Sunday, and Hana was done with it. 

Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Both Saturday and Sunday evenings, when she’d been alone, trying to devise a strategy to encourage Riley to open up, she’d come to the realization that most of the weight that she’d felt in their friendship had come from her opening up, not so much the other way around. While Hana had discussed her distorted dynamic with her parents, her failed engagement and romantic inexperience, and her very lonely and isolated childhood, there was very little Riley had told her. She briefly mentioned that her father was long gone and her mother dead, but it had been Maxwell who told her that her mother had died of a heroin overdose. She wasn’t even sure if Riley had any family beyond that, any aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents. And Riley certainly hadn’t confided in Hana about her growing feelings for Drake at any point during the social season or Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour.

The fact that her friendship with Riley appeared to be fairly lopsided filled her with both pain and guilt. It certainly hurt knowing that the first person in her life she saw as a best friend had probably not felt so connected with her. But more than that, she felt guilty for depending so much on Riley for emotional support and strength without offering anywhere near enough in return. But tonight, that was going to change.

Hana had tried being friendly and open. She’d tried asking gentle questions. She’d point blank asked Riley if she’d heard from Drake while they were at the Guggenheim. But Riley had deflected every single attempt. So tonight, Hana was getting her drunk. She hated thinking of it that way. It sounded so predatory, so malicious. But her intent was merely to use a bit of alcohol to help Riley feel comfortable enough to actually let her guard down and communicate openly. 

Her plan had been simple to execute, at least initially. Riley was off Monday, and given her apparent desire for all things fun and frivolous, it had been very easy to convince her that while in New York, Hana really wanted a little taste of the nightlife. Riley had been thrilled, offering to lend Hana club wear and taking them to a small little lounge after dinner before they headed to a nightclub. She hadn’t been out dancing in ages, apparently, and was very enthusiastic about the idea.

At first, it had gone exactly as Hana had hoped, with Riley downing vodka sodas while Hana just sipped on an amaretto sour as they sat in a little booth at the lounge. When they’d paid the cover to enter the nightclub, the bass from dance tracks resonating through Hana’s entire body, Riley appeared to be tipsy. Hana figured a couple more drinks, an hour or so of dancing, and then they could head out and actually talk.

What she hadn’t accounted for was the swaths of men who didn’t seem content to let them dance without butting in, invading their personal space without even saying hello. All of these men came with offers to buy them drinks, and while Hana always declined, Riley seemed keen on taking every single one of them up on it, wandering over to the bar time and time again, dragging Hana along with her.

Currently, Hana was standing there, watching as a tall man with very blond hair ordered Riley yet another Long Island Iced Tea. Riley was well passed the point of tipsy and was incredibly intoxicated, leaning heavily against the bar, the words she was practically yelling over the loud music slurred into a giant mess. The man in question didn’t seem to mind at all, though, handing his credit card over to the bartender.

“Excuse me!” Hana called out, the bartender pausing to look at her.

“Sorry!” yelled the blond man, leaning close to Hana so he could speak directly into her ear, “I didn’t know you were drinking. What do you want?”

Hana just shook her head and rolled his hand off her shoulder, leaning over the bar to speak directly to the bartender, tugging her skirt down as she did so. The length was not something she was used to, and she was feeling self conscious of how high it would ride up her thighs with her movement.

“Cancel that Long Island Iced Tea, please. She and I are leaving.”

The bartender glanced between the three of them, but after just a couple of seconds, he nodded with understanding. Hana then spun towards Riley,  hoping that she would be a cooperative drunk.

“Riley, sweetie,” Hana said, leaning to speak directly in her ear. 

Riley spun to face her, stumbling slightly on her heels as she moved, grabbing Hana’s arm. “Yeah?” she said, a concerning glazed looked to her eyes as she seemed to struggle to meet Hana’s eyeline.

“It’s time for us to leave.”

“I think she can decide if she wants to leave for herself.”

Hana rolled her eyes. She had hoped that the blond man would have moved on, but it seemed like he had set his sights on Riley. Ignoring him, she linked her arm through Riley’s and started to navigate them toward the coat check, but the man grabbed Riley’s wrist and tugged her back towards him.

“Riley, why don’t you tell your friend you’re having a good time and that I can get you home.”

Riley just looked dazed, her gaze unfocused, so Hana stepped forward and tugged her towards her side. “Riley, come on,” she said before looking at the man, “You are a disgusting excuse for a human being if you think that she is in any state to go anywhere with you.”

“Bitch!” the man spat out, but he seemed to decide that having this fight with Hana was not worth his time as he turned away and walked away from the two of them, probably looking for some other woman to ply with alcohol. Shaking her head, Hana wrapped her arm around Riley and moved them towards the exit. When they were waiting for their coats, Riley seemed to gain a little awareness of her surroundings.

“Where’d Peter go?”

Well, Hana had a name for the blond man with ill intentions now. “He had to go, and so do we,” she said, trying to guide Riley’s arms into her jacket.

“Oh,” said Riley, “Is Peter, I mean, where’s he, yeah, you know?”

Hana just blinked, not really having any clue what Riley’s drunken ramblings were supposed to convey. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get a cab back to my hotel.”

Hana was able to shepherd Riley out onto the sidewalk, but when she attempted to flag down a taxi, Riley batted down her arm, almost falling into the gutter in the process.

“No taxi, only three blocks,” she slurred, stumbling away from Hana and down the sidewalk with surprising speed.

“Riley, wait!” Hana cried out, “Where are you going?” But Riley didn’t give any response, so Hana took off after her. Any efforts to redirect her were met with groans and slurred grumbles and complaints, so after a few attempts, Hana just followed along. Riley was clearly on some sort of drunken mission, and Hana was going to be along for the ride, apparently.

It was a tricky route to wherever Riley was going. There were numerous other bars, clubs, and restaurants in this part of the city, and even though it was after midnight, there were still many people on the sidewalk, many of them just as drunk as Riley. Trying to prevent collisions, dodging cat callers, and keeping Riley upright was taking a lot of effort. Hana barely felt like the sidewalk was any less of an overwhelming place of noise and bodies than the dance club. Her ears were ringing and she was exhausted. She just wanted to get Riley safely into a bed and then go to sleep herself.

After a couple of blocks, Riley stopped in front of a small market, veering towards a side door. Hana was about to correct her that not only was the market closed, but that she was trying to enter what was clearly an employee entrance, but Riley fished a set of keys out of her pocket and fumbled with them, trying to unlock the door. At that moment, Hana realized that this door wasn’t to the market, it was to Riley and Drake’s apartment building.

After a couple of tries, Riley got the door unlocked and open, so Hana followed her into what appeared to be a mailroom for the building and then up a flight of stairs. Hana didn’t know what she had pictured for where Drake and Riley lived, but it certainly wasn’t this. She was trying hard not to be judgemental, but she’d never been inside a building so run down. It had probably been an adjustment for Drake compared to living at the palace.

As Hana trudged up several flights of stairs behind Riley, catching her from falling twice, she couldn’t help but think about Drake and Riley, not only living in this building, but in this neighborhood, in this city. Riley she could kind of imagine, out at a different bar or restaurant everyday, trying new foods and drinks, charming different people left and right. She was so bubbly and outgoing and had a definite wild, impulsive streak.

But Drake? Nearly agoraphobic, routine loving, scoffed at the new and unknown Drake? She just couldn’t see it. He would have punched at least five people on their walk back from the club alone. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture him in a place that was so loud and with so many different people. It seemed like the type of thing he would avoid at all costs. She didn’t know what to make of that. Did Drake have some secret, social side that he only let Riley see? Or was he just miserable and surly all the time? Hana felt like it was probably the latter. It made her sad to even think about. Here he had made a grand romantic gesture, moving to be with the woman he loved, and it was probably draining and stressful beyond his wildest dreams.

Eventually Riley turned down a hallway and made her way to a door labeled 4B. She tried to use her keys, but was struggling to figure out which key went into which lock. After a few seconds, Hana stepped up to grab the keys herself, but before she could even offer her help, Riley started crying, sinking to the floor.

“Riley!” she cried out, crouching down and grabbing her shoulders and rubbing circles against them. “It’s okay; I can unlock the door. It’ll be okay.”

“S’not that,” Riley mumbled. “I jus’ wanted t’forget t’night… T’not feel so bad…”

“Shhhh,” hummed Hana, sitting down on the floor next to Riley, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so lonely. But no one cares,” Riley slurred, head thrown back against the door, “He’s never coming back and I’m gonna always be alone.”

“Riley, plenty of people care about you,” Hana said, trying to provide words of reassurance, but it was like Riley was just giving some sort of emotional speech, and she just kept mumbling the same thoughts over and over again. That she was alone. That she had no one. That everyone would always leave her. So Hana did the only thing she could think to do. She sat there with her, letting her ramble and release her pain. She wasn’t going anywhere, and hopefully that fact would provide at least a little comfort.

Permatag: @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019  @sirbeepsalot  @texaskitten30  @princessleac1  @ladyangel70  @dcbbw @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @notoriouscs @butindeed  @addictedtodrakefanfic

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd  @feartheendlesssummer  @ao719  @ooo-barff-ooo​ @sunnyxdazed

[apparitionism]

Hark 4

I certainly didn’t expect to finish a Christmas/New Year’s story on Valentine’s Day, but, as Myka says at one point in this concluding part, “here we are.” Writing takes as long as it takes. Fortunately no one is paying for this, so I haven’t had to jam the “as long as it takes” into a contractually obligated timeline. I’m grateful to those who read the prior parts (part 1, part 2, and part 3), and I offer much respect and thanks again to @kla1991​ for running the @bering-and-wells-exchange​ .

Hark 4

Throughout the game, Myka and Helena held hands below the table: a warm clasp of accord. Myka harbored a fitful little hope that someone would actually try something cheesy with mistletoe, because while they were reconciled, they weren’t fully at ease, and mistletoe would be a helpful excuse... but she realized, with a certain amount of guilt, that maybe she and Helena had spooked the rest of them such that they were unlikely to poke the bear. Or the bears. Or say “Messiah” to the press, or to the presses, or whatever metaphor she was looking for. She couldn’t blame them.

Pete played Sorry like he was being paid not just to win, but to humiliate everyone else: every chance he had, he bumped one of someone else’s pawns, and he exulted in saying “sorry not sorry!” each time. The universe clearly didn’t see fit to punish him for any of this preadolescent gloating, for he continued to draw ideal cards and make ideal moves. 

If Myka had been focusing on anything other than Helena’s hand in hers, and how near each other they sat, she might have cared. As it was, she listened with half an ear as Pete trumpeted, in ultimate triumph, “Now for Star Wars trivia! At which I will also rule.”

“You won’t,” Claudia said. “I will. But you’ll always be King Dub to me.”

“Hey, that makes me a saint too,” he said, “because of the song.”

Myka said, “If you’re a saint, I’m good King Wenceslas.”

“Can’t be two,” Pete decreed, “and I already called it.”

“Steve’s the saint anyway,” said Claudia.

“Stephen,” said Steve.

Pete pointed at him and accused, “You said that isn’t your name!”

“Right,” Steve said. His patience very nearly equaled Leena’s. “I’m not the saint. In the song. Well, one of them. Wenceslas, but Stephen has a feast day and everything.”

“I want a feast day,” Pete grumbled.

“I’m certain Saint Peter has one,” Helena told him. “You could appropriate it.”

Myka said, “Please. You’ve seen him eat. All feast all the time, no sainted day required.”

Claudia said to Steve, “My point is you are one though. Not in the song.”

“I think you’re still under some saxophone influence. Besides, my exes would disagree,” Steve said with a sigh.

“They just didn’t know you like we do,” Claudia assured him.

“To bring it back to what matters,” Pete said, “however they knew him, it wasn’t like how I know Star Wars.”

Leena said, very dry, “I think Star Wars is the grateful party here.”

Everyone except Pete looked at her with matching raised eyebrows.

“I can make a joke, you know,” she said.

Helena found her voice first. “Indeed you can,” she said. “Ahem. Is this trivia contest multiple-choice?”

Claudia said, “To repeat myself, or I mean ourselves: Sorry. It’s fill-in-the-blank.”

Helena nodded. “No possibility of my winning by mathematical chance, then. I joyfully decline to participate.”

“You can sit beside me while I play,” Myka told her.

“You’re playing?” Pete yelped. “You didn’t play last year!”

“I’m in a winning mood. I’d like to keep it going.” Under the table, she felt Helena tighten her grasp, and in response, her heart offered her an extremely cheesy throb of pleasure—no mistletoe required.

Pete waved incredulous hands at her. “Keep what going? I called Wenceslas before you, I just whupped you at Sorry, and what do you even know about Star Wars?”

“I’ve seen the movies. You forced me to.”

“Yeah, but that—”

“So I’m pretty sure I know everything about Star Wars. To repeat myself, because apparently I need to: I like how everyone always forgets I will never forget anything. Do you people even remember your names?”

Steve said, “I did recently go into detail about mine.” It hadn’t been residual saxophone influence, Myka was pretty sure, that had made her agree strongly with Claudia’s sainthood idea. And it was definitely not residual saxophone that made her chuckle at his reminder.

Pete snorted. “Strategic forgetting is how most of us get through life. Particularly, how we handle our relationships. Obviously Myka wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Myka tightened her own grasp on Helena to blunt the impact of her words as she said, “Believe me when I tell you that if I could forget strategically, my strategy would be extensive. But I can’t. So here we are.”

Now Pete frowned. “I think you oughta tap out then. This should be a fair fight about supreme Star Wars knowledge.”

“How is it not fair that Myka can remember more than you can?” Leena asked him.

“Also,” Steve said, in full saintly-peacemaker mode, “she probably doesn’t know behind-the-scenes stuff, so the rest of us have an outside chance.”

“Not me!” Helena chirped, and Myka was reminded—not that she needed to be—of how impossibly charming Helena was when she was cheery. “And yet I can maintain my own winning mood, for I will be able to sit beside Myka and not watch a movie.”

Claudia squinted at Myka, then at Helena. “I don’t get it,” she said.

“Me either,” Pete agreed.

Leena looked at Myka. She looked, specifically, in the direction of Myka’s ears, as if she could see them through the hair that Myka hoped kept them hidden. So much for that: Leena said, “I think Myka does.”

*

The Star-Wars-movie this one of these had, in fact, shown that the argumentative tailspin wasn’t compulsory. Myka and Helena had had the B&B to themselves on a rare free afternoon, and Helena had for some reason announced a determination to watch the first one, which Pete and Claudia had been insisting she put next on her list. Myka had said, “I’d rather read a book than watch a movie.” Particularly Star Wars, she added internally.

“That is because you are accustomed to movies.”

“No, it’s because I’d rather read a book than watch a movie.”

“First, you of all people should understand that one’s preferences are shaped by one’s historical circumstances. But second: any book? Over any movie?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why maintain that that is your overarching position?”

“Why do you always think I’m talking about some inviolable rule I live by?”

“Because as a rule, you do talk about inviolable rules you live by. Which are in turn inviolable rules you believe others should live by.”

“I am not dictatorial like that!”

“You are,” Helena said, very quietly.

That had hit Myka as an open hand to the face. A judgment—and she remembered feeling the obstinance of argument begin to take hold. “I am not,” she said.

“You are,” Helena said again, and Myka had tried to clear a preemptive mental break around whatever territory this new conflagration was poised to burn through: movies, books, history... but then Helena had, uncharacteristically, declined to ignite it. “However. It’s right that you should be.” A twitch of face, and Myka understood, as another open hand, exactly what that twitch meant.

“But it wasn’t right,” she said, knowing it for a terrible, hated fact. “Not for you, it wasn’t. Not for you or about you. Judgment based on stupid inviolable rules. No nuance.”

“I left you no room—well, left no one any room, but in particular you—for nuance. I did what I did, and you had no choice.”

“You did what you did,” Myka agreed. “But there are always choices.”

“They can be impossible to discern.”

“I didn’t make good ones.”

“That is not for me to judge,” said Helena, “speaking of judgment. But I made none that were good. Obviously.”

“Are we making better ones now?” Myka wasn’t really asking, because the answer was obviously yes, but it was also—sometimes, and just as obviously—no. But differently. “Could we?” she tried, hoping for possibility.

Helena took her up on the offer. “Well, let’s see,” she said. She batted her eyelashes at Myka. “Choose to watch the movie with me.”

“I’d rather read my book,” Myka said, which was how the whole thing had started, but now she was smiling.

Helena was too. “All right. Choose to read your book but also sit beside me while I watch the movie, which has been deemed indispensable to my ability to engage appropriately with contemporary society.”

“That’ll make it very unlikely I can concentrate on my book.”

“Because of the movie’s indispensability?”

“Because of sitting beside you.”

In response to that, Myka received a much more sincere blink. “That is in fact indispensable. Choose to sit beside me and not read a book.”

“Only if you choose not to watch a movie.”

“Done,” Helena declared.

No book was read. No movie was watched. Extremely good choices were made. As they drowsed together later, entangled, Myka had said, surprising herself just a little, “I’d rather do this than read a book.”

“That is an inviolable rule I am happy to live by.”

*

Late on Christmas Eve—moments before the clock chimed Christmas—everyone had retired but Myka, Helena, and Leena. Helena, who had begun to yawn, started up the stairs, but Myka said, “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to help Leena with the last of the cleanup.”

After a small hesitation, Helena said, “All right.”

Not until Helena had stepped on the creaky second-to-last stair, thus putting her demonstrably out of earshot, did Leena say, “You don’t have to stay up on my account. I was going to leave the rest for tomorrow anyway. It’s mostly Pete’s mess; he can deal with his own consolation-prize cookie crumbs.” She said it with a smile, but it was an accurate description of the evening’s results: Myka had continued to let herself be distracted—though Steve had also been right about the behind-the-scenes problem—and Claudia had taken the Star Wars crown. After feting her, they’d pulled Pete out of a mope only by means of everyone participating in a ceremonious awarding of consolation cookies and Helena reminding him that Christmas was certainly a feast day.

Myka had been waiting for that stair-creak too. “Actually I wanted your help. With... I guess a different kind of cleanup.” Because Myka harbored some suspicions, and Leena was the one most likely to know whether they were justified. And to be willing to tell her if they were. “Let me ask you: Why’d the Messiah tap Pete on the shoulder?”

Leena shrugged. “You heard the theory. Claudia needed Caretaker practice.”

“I did hear that. So, really, why’d the Messiah tap Pete on the shoulder?”

Now Leena smiled. “Caretaker practice aside—though she did get some—I do think it had a different plan.”

“Okay. I’m probably going to regret not leaving it at Caretaker practice, or even at a get-to-know-Saint-Steve session, but seriously, what was the plan?”

“Well. Let me ask you: what’s an argument? Not mathematically. In the vernacular.”

“Fine, I’ll play. It’s a... vocal exchange of opposing views?”

“Right. Opposing. An insistence on separation—a placing of space. Between those views, between the voices articulating them, and also between the individuals holding them. Sound familiar?”

“I changed my mind about playing,” Myka said.

“Maybe, recently, that sort of placing of space had something to do with singing? Prior to your little tiff that we all witnessed, I mean. Of course I’m just guessing.”

“I doubt that.”

“And on the other hand, what’s Christmas caroling? Particularly with regard to voices articulating things.”

“Okay. I get it. It’s kind of what I suspected.”

Leena’s smile deepened. “One more step. What were the artifacts concerned about?”

Myka wanted to bang her head against a wall. “Their insta-relationship with Christmas.” She sighed. “Being defined by it.”

“Close enough.”

“You said the reason the Messiah does this is different every time.”

“The Messiah and the arguments it makes—they’re useful tools.”

“Tools,” Myka said. “Useful to the building, I take it.”

Leena nodded. “Tools. In your case, I think, useful for trying to show you that you don’t have to insist so hard on separation. You don’t need to worry about being put in any sort of Christmas aisle.”

“Why, seriously, does the building feel like it has to intervene?”

“It’s obviously invested in the two of you.” Leena said, but her expression turned quizzical. “The two of you together? It seems to think...” She searched, searched. “It seems to think your investment in each other changed something. Changed some circumstance for the better? I don’t know why, and I could be wrong.”

“That seems very unlike you.”

“I don’t read minds. I don’t read buildings, either, but I’ve been here a while. I do know that when it’s grateful, it likes to give gifts.”

“That is seasonal and lovely. And when I say ‘lovely,’ I mean disturbing.” Myka paused, because she didn’t know what should come next. “Will you tell Helena all this?” she asked.

“Will she need to hear it?” Leena countered.

Would she? Helena was obviously more tuned in to artifacts, to the Warehouse, than Myka would or could ever be. She’d stood in the building, among all its powerful objects, for nearly a century, with nothing to do but listen. “Probably not,” Myka finally said. “I think she heard more tonight than I did. Than I could have.” Throughout the entire caroling nonsense, Helena had indeed seemed more collected than Myka had felt, except when they’d both lost their singing-related composure so completely. “I doubt she could do what you just did, though.”

“And what’s that?”

“Translate it into words I can understand.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but if it helped, then consider it my gift to you. Nothing to do with Christmas.” Leena glanced at the clock on the living-room mantel. “But also, merry Christmas.”

“You know, my feeling about that—maybe my whole life—has mostly been ‘We’ll see.’ And I’ve been okay with that. But tonight? It’s ‘I hope so.’”

“You’ll get it right,” Leena said.

“Again I’ll go with ‘I hope so.’ You too, by the way. Merry Christmas, I mean; you don’t need me to tell you anything about getting things right.”

“We all try.”

Myka found her vision and her voice unacceptably watery as she said, “I’m constantly surprised by how beautiful that is.”

Leena flung her arms around Myka in a fervent hug, and Myka returned it—wholeheartedly, though her arms were rusty when it came to putting them around anyone but Helena. They’d been rusty, period, until three short months ago.

Three short months. On her way upstairs, Myka took each individual step with attention, partly because it had been an astonishingly long day and the movement required effort, but partly because she could not, most nights and especially not this night, keep from playing a magical-thinking game in which displaying eagerness by hurrying up the stairs would mean that Helena would not be in their bedroom, that their bedroom would not in fact be theirs. That Helena’s presence—the entire improbable unfolding of their lives since the thing—would turn out to have been a mirage.

The second-to-last stair creaked under her deliberate pressure, and she resisted the urge to skip the last one.

Opening the bedroom door, she was rewarded for following the nonexistent rules. Helena sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed. Waiting.

Myka’s body responded to that sight; her blood told her, murmuring as it moved, that love was a mystery: her blood moved, and she knew why but didn’t know why... a mystery, a tangle of clues that she would continue to try to unravel, but also a deeper, near-religious mystery. Myka’s own religious education was strictly comparative, but she knew that love was, indeed, a truth known only through revelation.

Helena herself was a mystery too, her revealed truth at once glorious and painful and incomprehensibly sitting on a bed in front of Myka...

“Happy Christmas,” Helena said.

...and saying, “Happy Christmas.” Glorious. Incomprehensible. “Here’s what’s funny,” Myka told Helena. “‘Silent Night’ was always my favorite Christmas carol.”

“My understanding of contemporary humor is on par with my tragically inadequate grasp of contemporary culture.”

“Well, I don’t mean funny.”

“Oh. Then yes. Entirely funny.”

“Do you have a favorite?” Myka asked.

“No.”

But she’d answered way too fast, so Myka tilted her head in a manner she knew Helena found difficult to dismiss. Before Helena, she hadn’t known she could say “please” quite so clearly, in quite so many contexts, without actually uttering the word.

Helena sighed. “I shouldn’t say. You’ll take it as an indication that tonight was my fault.”

“If it’s the Hallelujah chorus, I will tesla you.”

“It’s no longer my favorite, if that helps at all. So my ‘no’ was truthful. Technically.”

“Well,” Myka said. “Technically, tonight was our fault. And Leena’s pretty sure you already know that.”

“Know...” Helena said, as if she would need to work out this unfamiliar word’s derivation and usage in order to make any sort of definitive statement about whether she could possibly “know” anything.

It didn’t seem to leave Myka much space, not at all. “What are we even doing?” she asked.

“Uneven,” Helena said immediately.

“What?”

“Whatever it is we are doing, we are certainly uneven doing it.”

“Okay, that is funny,” Myka said, “or at least accurate. I did tell you I’d tell you later.”

“That makes no sense. What are you telling me?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” She sat down next to Helena, taking care to preserve a distance between them: a significant few inches of bed. A placing of space. As in an argument. “There’s something I’d like you to tell me. If you would.”

“I can’t imagine I wouldn’t,” Helena said. She looked down at that inch, then back up at Myka. “Or perhaps I can imagine.” Myka wasn’t sure how to read that, but then Helena shifted her hips a few millimeters closer to Myka and asked, “What is it?”

The purposeful nature of that movement caused Myka’s ears to heat again, but she pressed on. “What it’s like to hear them. The artifacts. Can you always?”

Helena took a moment before answering. That prize of thought... no, tonight it was a gift. Happy Christmas. “It is like an awareness of presence that is slightly more intrusive than a head cold.” Myka didn’t feel herself make a face of incredulity, but Helena said, “I’m not being dismissive of your question; that is what it is like. For me. As for whether I can always? In the past, more so. Tonight was anomalous in that I was... included. Deliberately, if I’m not mistaken. Obviously the Warehouse and I have had—continue to have—a rather fraught relationship.”

“Leena says it’s grateful. The building. To us.”

“Why?”

Myka was glad to be able to infer, from that startled syllable, that such an idea was new to Helena too. “I don’t know. She says she doesn’t either. Something about changing some circumstance for the better?”

“For the better? I can certainly imagine it being grateful to you. I know that gratitude well.”

“Aren’t we past that?” Myka asked. Please let us be past that. But then again: three short months.

Helena waited, waited, waited. Thinking again, but this time not a gift. She at last said, “And if you change your mind?”

Myka, nonplussed, said an inadequate, “About what?”

“About my being here. It’s because you want me here. What if you change your mind?”

She wouldn’t even sit in a chair without your say-so, Pete had said. Myka hadn’t wanted that power then, and she didn’t want it now; yet she also yearned to be able to tell Helena something like “I couldn’t change my mind.” But that wasn’t true... or she couldn’t guarantee its truth, for if the Warehouse had taught her anything—other than “don’t let Pete out of your sight during inventory”—it was that the future was another of those undiscovered countries. Instead of making an inevitably faulty promise, she said, “That the building has feelings about us suggests that I shouldn’t. That neither of us should. That it wouldn’t take kindly to me, to you, to us, if we did.”

“That is a terrible reason,” Helena said. But she said it with a turn of her head toward Myka that was legible as comically rueful.

Myka turned her head too, more fully toward Helena. “How about we just don’t? How about the reason is, I don’t want to change my mind, and neither do you?”

“I don’t. Want to.”

“Okay. Me neither.” Myka made a millimeters-shift of her own, such that they now seemed separated by only an atmospheric wisp of molecular width. “Leena also says neither of us is being moved to the Christmas aisle.”

They were close enough to feel breath, to know air for the current it was, one on which they were poised to flow toward each other. “Good news,” Helena’s voice propagated through that current.

Myka let herself luxuriate in waiting, reveling in the difference between this waiting and other kinds. “I bet you knew that too.”

“My knowledge is not so vast as you seem to believe,” Helena said. But she put that weird I-don’t-know-this-word emphasis on “knowledge.”

She put it on “believe,” too, as if she had plucked the idea of belief from Myka’s thoughts. As Myka would have expected “her” to do, if “she” were not in fact here. Myka said, “Sometimes you sound like the voice in my head,” though she had intended never to bring up that bit of self-indulgence—her words had been completely involuntary, jumping of their own accord into whatever it was that flowed between them, and Myka was reminded that she had never volunteered for any of this.

Helena moved her head backward, a cartoon-ostrich retraction. “You can’t possibly mean your conscience.”

The movement, and the words, made Myka laugh. “You sound nothing like my conscience. No, I mean your voice. In my head. When you were... gone. You were still here”—and she would have pointed to her head, but it was her heart too, so she ended up just waving feebly in her own general direction—“even when you weren’t here.”

“I should apologize for my continued presence. You didn’t need that or deserve it.”

“Let’s really really not talk about needing or deserving.” Maybe that was where intimacy came from—knowing someone else’s needs and deserts—but talking about it? That would lead to the opposite of intimacy, Myka was sure. Or at the very least, to more separation, not less.

Helena said, “It isn’t as if you weren’t present for me. When I was allowed to be...” A troubled throat-clear. “Conscious? Rare that you weren’t there, of course. Physically. When I was. Wasn’t? But. You were. When you weren’t.”

That stammery rollout left Myka stranded, so she turned to self-deprecation: “I’m sure I’m just as judgy or rule-bound or whatever, even if I’m not physically around.” That got her nothing. She tried, “What did you imagine me saying?”

Helena didn’t really answer. “I admit I never envisioned—enheard?—your solving intractable riddles about hymns and cantatas.” She said that with a lightness, but she switched back to broody with, “How limited my imagination. Particularly with regard to... well, anything. But particularly anything sung.”

Playing to Helena’s vanity was the best way to improve her mood, so Myka said, “Limited? Your imagination?” She waited until Helena smiled, then said, “Maybe about singing. But singing aside, I love your voice, by the way.”

That got her an inhalation, one that she chose to read as positive. Helena said, on the exhale, “Yours is the sound I want to listen to, by the way. Am privileged to listen to.”

“Don’t think about privilege,” Myka told her, to try to forestall any martyr-ish self-abnegation. “You should have what you want.” Speaking of deserving, she didn’t add but could have.

“So should you.” So quiet.

“Okay then,” Myka said. “Notwithstanding the building’s thoughts on the matter, what I don’t actually want is to never fight with you.”

Helena’s shoulders, which had been slumping, snapped to—and not with the irritation that usually accompanied such a movement. “Thanks be,” she said, those shoulders now relaxing rather than dejectedly sagging. “I don’t want to be insipid, and I don’t believe you do either.”

“The insipid aisle isn’t our spiritual home,” Myka agreed. Hoping to move the current again, she said, as a slight provocation, “You still eat apples wrong.”

Helena caught the ball perfectly: “You still stole ‘God Save the Queen.’”

“It’s not like you were using it, though. Given that you can’t sing it.”

“You stole it to no purpose, however. Given that you can’t sing it either.”

I love your voice, by the way. “Maybe I was trying to get you to chase me. To try and get it back.”

The play continued, with Helena saying, “I wish I had. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You were a little preoccupied with staking out your position. Which was separate from mine. And also very far away from the insipid aisle.” Myka smiled. “Plus I was driving. There would’ve been an accident.”

Helena smiled too, but the molecular width between them remained.

Closing it effectively would take something more, so Myka said the most true thing she could find. “Things I didn’t think of: spending Christmas with you.”

“You are as of some moments ago in actual fact doing that.”

“But the idea of it.”

Judging from Helena’s response, that was not quite the right thing to have said. No closing up of space. “You see, however, for me,” Helena said, “the idea of Christmas. At all.”

“I see, but I don’t see. And maybe I need to ask. Are you being religious about it?”

Helena took yet another moment. “I was certainly inappropriately glib about what I was flaunting,” she at last said. “But the Warehouse will beat certain beliefs out of one. Or try to.”

Belief, belief, belief. “And beat new ones in,” Myka agreed, with some gloom.

“True,” Helena said. Her repentant grimace softened. “But sometimes not beliefs so much as realizations. Full ones. Not that I needed the fullness brought home, but even so.”

“Such as?”

“Among other things, that Steve is right.”

“About what? I mean, probably most things. But specifically?”

“About who is most likely to know all the unsaintly details. And in your case will never forget them. Not even strategically.”

“I’m not your ex. I’m never going to be your ex.” That was another involuntary utterance, so she added a painful-yet-voluntary, “Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“I have tried assiduously to stop wanting,” Helena said, “in circumstance after circumstance, for it’s always seemed the better part of valor. To spare everyone involved.” Myka hated that she agreed with that, but it was true that if Helena had stopped wanting much of what she had wanted, many people would have been spared many things, up to and including their lives. Then Helena said, with a small shrug, “And yet my appetites persist. Particularly the animal.”

The casual mention of animal appetites, the calm acceptance of them... Myka had never liked acknowledging those appetites, much less accepting them; she had tried mightily to resist being distracted by them, but her response to Helena made them undeniable.

Part of what had enraged Myka about Helena’s crazed apple-eating was that it made Myka want to knock the apple from her hand and lick her needlessly sticky fingers. She had resented Helena for her ability to reduce Myka so effortlessly to her body, but she was coming to understand—was trying to really, fundamentally grasp—that the right verb was not reduce but rather elevate.

Elevate. “My appetite is for you,” Myka said. So bald, that statement. It was true, but bald and thus risky. These things she didn’t say out loud. Shouldn’t say out loud?

“Don’t doubt that mine is for you as well,” Helena said, very much out loud.

“I don’t doubt that. I really don’t.” A nostalgic phrase leapt to her mind... if such a thing as nostalgia applied after only three short months... “I believed in you and I was right.”

“You do enjoy being right. But what if, even so, I prove you wrong?”

She didn’t need to add, And thus make you change your mind. Obviously they would not stop running up against this—but what mattered was that they were willing to not stop running up against it. They would probably keep running up against the fear of the insipid aisle, too—but what mattered was that they knew it. Could see it... well, and on the evidence of today and tonight, hear it. That had to help. “You really need to listen to me,” Myka said. “You need to hear it: I believe in you, and I am right.”

Hearing herself, she understood that, as it turned out, she was not quite as tired of belief as she had thought. The realization made belief itself no less exhausting... but it did make it a bit more easy to reconcile. “Peace isn’t only for normal people,” she said.

“Have I suggested it is?”

“We’ve both been acting like it is. Assuming it is?”

“We are certainly not normal people.”

“But some peace? I don’t think it’s a synonym for insipidity.”

“‘Insipidity’ is a terrible-sounding word, isn’t it? Whereas ‘peace’... no, you’re right. Some. Solely of the season? We did manage a temporary truce,” Helena said, as if she were having Myka’s exact thought about seeing it—hearing it—and what that might be able to help.

“You knew we needed one.”

“Apparently the Warehouse knew it before I did.” No questioning, now, of that previously baffling concept of knowledge. Myka felt the give-in—felt it in a melt of body beside her.

“The building might not be entirely wrong all the time,” Myka said.

“It will no doubt appreciate your concession.”

“What matters is, will you appreciate it?”

Helena moved her mouth: a teasing Will I? moue. She then said, dropping the tease, “I appreciate everything about you.”

“You do not appreciate my singing voice.”

But that was met with surprisingly sweet, open sincerity on Helena’s face. “I do. Today has taught me that. For it is recognizable as yours.”

Myka’s vision watered again. She said, with difficulty, “Even if I could sing, I couldn’t sing anyway.”

“Why?” Helena asked. Like she really didn’t know.

So Myka told her: “Because when you say things like that, you take my breath away.”

It was her own version of cheesy mistletoe, and the resistant-to-the-insipid-aisle core of her wished a very real wish that Helena would wave it off. Instead, Helena closed the molecular gap that remained between them, closed it with a decisive swing of body to straddle Myka’s legs, closed it further with a lean into Myka’s body that began at the torso and progressed to become a kiss, one into which Myka pushed up, up, and Helena pushed down, down. At last, no distance at all.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Myka asked when Helena lifted her mouth away.

“What?”

“About how many times you can stop my breath. In quick succession.”

“That kiss was not quick. But perhaps I will try to set a record, to mark the holiday.”

“You weren’t kidding about happy Christmas, were you.”

“I was not. Don’t doubt that.”

Don’t doubt. It did seem a more restful thing to do than engage in the affirmative act of belief.

Don’t doubt.

And that, Myka hoped, was what the building had been trying to convey... and it was something for which she did feel gratitude. She had not really expected that, so she said it out loud to Helena, and added, “Speaking of religion, is it sacrilegious to be surprised that the building got something right?”

Helena sat up straighter—just a bit, but “don’t go,” Myka was tempted to say, as molecules of air intruded between their upper bodies. “Well, gratitude,” Helena said, with a wave of her left hand, and “the Warehouse,” with a wave of her right. “It’s difficult to reconcile. And yet without the building, I wouldn’t be here, in this unevenness, with you.” She put her hands on Myka’s shoulders, both at once, with equal force: the gratitude hand, the Warehouse hand.

Myka’s own gratitude hand and Warehouse hand had been resting on Helena’s hips. She flexed her fingers, pressing into flesh, and Helena gave the tiniest arch to her back. Even that little spine-stretch was enough to remind Myka that they had lately spoken of appetites. “So what you’re saying is, it gets almost everything wrong, but I have it to thank for this unprecedented happiness? Sure, I can hold both of those in my head.”

“That sounds very like your feelings for me.”

“Ditto, and don’t bother denying it.”

Helena held very still. “What would you like me to bother to do?” she asked. She was still, but her body was warm against and near Myka’s, even across the torso-distance.

“Wasn’t there something about chasing me?”

“I seem to have caught you already.” Now she moved her hips in a hot push against Myka’s and said, “So unsaintly, these details.” Another hot push. “Perhaps Steve would prefer to be a saint, but I wouldn’t.” She moved yet again, stronger, and Myka was reminded of the animal nature of those unsaintly details. How such details brought them closer together, leaving no distance between their positions. Needs and deserts—saints didn’t have either of those. Or if they did, their sainthood most likely required them to deny the former and endure the latter. Myka wanted to satisfy the former and ignore the latter.

Wanted, wanted, wanted. “I’m not anybody’s version of a saint,” she told Helena. “So I don’t want you to be one either. I’d rather you be a thief.”

“I’d rather you be a thief.”

“What can I really steal from you.” Myka wrapped her arms around the body atop and against her: stealing nothing, holding everything.

“Beyond an anthem?” Helena dipped swift to kiss Myka, in the relaxed, open way she did at the best of times. The way that said I don’t doubt this at all. “My breath; my heart. But you have those already. Have had, you thief.”

“The only reason I have those is that you gave them to me.”

They were gifts. If the Warehouse had needed, and had seized on, Christmas as a way to remind them that argumentative separation had a downside—one that they knew about but needed to know about—Myka had, maybe, needed it to remind her that all of Helena was a gift. From potential world-ending to provocative apple-eating to domestic hand-holding: all of her.

“Which aisle do we belong in?” Myka asked. “Not Christmas, not insipid...”

“Apples?” Helena proposed, sly, and Myka took it as an invitation to put her mouth to Helena’s hand.

“Animal,” she said as she did so.

Helena laughed, even as she arched her back again. “A bit crowded there, I suspect. What about literary manuscripts, genre of your choosing?” she offered in response. “We’d at least have reading material to keep us occupied.”

“Too drafty,” Myka objected. “Besides, isn’t there an inviolable rule about doing this instead?”

“Literary manuscripts about this,” Helena counterproposed.

“Pornography? Seriously? Most of it’s so poorly written.”

“I meant our version of this, which would of course be excellently written, for did you not listen when I mentioned writing a novel with you as its focus? Certainly it would include this... though as I think on it, I may need to engage in more research...”

The night dissolved into beautiful, comical essays of possibility.

“Uneven,” Helena said, much later, after many aisles had been proposed... and many appetites satisfied.

“I doubt that’s an aisle.”

“What did I tell you about doubt? We can annex some other space, then, like Pete with his feast day. We might in fact fly an uneven flag over it.”

Myka sighed. “Unfortunately that means we’ll need an anthem.”

Helena’s smile at that was the most conspiratorial, the most intimate, that she had ever shown Myka. Ever. Prior to and during their three short months, Myka had never seen this smile. “I know just where we can steal one,” Helena said.

*

Myka awoke in the middle of the night—a simple move to consciousness, not from a nightmare, not in response to any troubling sound, not a voice in her head or a noise outside it. In the Christmas silence, she slid a hand across the bed, in the dark, and it met Helena’s breathing body.

In careful concert with that body, she inhaled, exhaled.

END

~

What I would say in a tag essay, if tumblr seemed at all amenable to those anymore, is something about this: the breath in concert is the anthem of any lovers’ country. I should also mention that Myka’s “Well, I don’t mean funny” line is borrowed from the 1940 movie Too Many Husbands (screenplay by Claude Binyon), and it’s spoken by Jean Arthur, on whose work I’ve spent a lot of time... her voice, in particular, matters a great deal to me, and I found that line, and her reading of it, important for reasons I won’t go into here. Given that this piece is about voices, though, I thought I’d deploy the words as a bit of affectionate homage.

[stillsearchingforsomething]

The best thing that has ever been mine

There have been a few requests for some AMA’s fluff so, enjoy :)

American Music Awards - November 2019

“Hey you,” Karlie says as soon as the call connects and Taylor hears her voice a few seconds before her smiling face fills the screen.

“Hey yourself,” Taylor says, keeping her phone up away from the water as she relaxes in the bathtub after a long day of rehearsals, her free hand making sure she’s decently covered by bubbles.

“God, I miss you,” Karlie says and she can’t keep the pout from her face at all the skin those bubbles are hiding.

“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck in New York,” Taylor teases with a quick glance at her phone and she can see that Karlie’s moving around their apartment, turning off lights as she goes. The feed shakes when she goes up the stairs and Taylor ends up looking at the ceiling for a few seconds as Karlie hops onto their bed and settles with a long sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Karlie says but her weary tone has given way to a wide smile that mirrors Taylor’s when her face comes into focus again. “How was your day?”

“Exhausting,” she says, sinking further down in the bathtub and reaching for her glass of white wine to take a sip.

“How did rehearsals go?” Karlie asks shifting sit up in bed and holding the phone close to her face. “Was Misty there?”

“Yep, she was, we did a full run through of everything. She and Craig were great.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Taylor smiles before the words really register and then she focuses on Karlie, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Just the ballet routine?”

“Mainly that, but also you,” Karlie teases, laughing softly.

“I’m jealous,” Taylor pretends to be insulted, faking a spectacular pout that just makes Karlie smile softer at her.

“I’m kidding.”

“I know.”

“I am seriously excited for the ballet though.”

“I knew I didn’t have any reason to be worried,” Taylor says, trying to keep the smile off her face and choosing to tease Karlie a little bit.

“You were worried?” Karlie says which is not what Taylor had wanted her to focus on. “Aw, honey.”

“I mean, she’s hot and a professional ballet dancer, she can obviously fill a void that I can’t,” Taylor muses aloud even though they both know she’s just teasing for the sake of it.

Taylor knows she’s phrased that poorly the moment Karlie’s eyes go wide and Taylor can practically see the delight vibrating out of her even through her iPhone screen.

“Don’t even—,” she tries preemptively but Karlie’s smile is manic. “I meant that you can talk about dance and stuff!”

“While she fills my void?”

Taylor groans and sinks further down in the tub but her cringing is considerably shortened by how much she enjoys hearing Karlie laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, nobody but you is filling this void,” Karlie says shooting her an exaggerated wink to make her point.

“Karlie!” Taylor whines.

“What? It’s true!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Karlie’s mouth snaps shut as she just stares at her screen with a guilty smile, and it’s incredibly endearing how she seems to cuddle even further in bed, half her face smushed by the pillow and only one eye and half a smile staring back at Taylor.

“You’re such a smartass,” Taylor whispers.

“You love my ass.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“‘Unfortunately’?!” Karlie exclaims. “What does that mean?”

Taylor shakes her head, her exasperation clear but her eyes too filled with fondness for it to have any real sort of effect and they stare at each other for a bit in a peaceful sort of lull.

Taylor sighs softly and she closes her eyes for a moment, basking in the tranquility of the moment. “I love you.”

Karlie completely melts at that, pressing her face further into her pillow so that Taylor can only see the twitch of her lips as her smile widens.

“I love you too,” she finally mumbles.

“Good,” Taylor says with a decisive nod.

“You saying good night?”

“Mhm-hm, my bath is turning cold.”

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you at home as soon as you’re done.”

“I can’t wait,” Taylor says.

Karlie picks up her phone and shifts onto her back, holding the phone over herself in such a way that Taylor just knows she’s going to accidentally drop it on her face.

“Good night,” Taylor says smiling fondly at her fiancée.

“Oh, wait hang on—”

“Karlie, I’m cold,” she says with a soft whine.

“I love you, you’re gonna be amazing tomorrow,” Karlie says softly, her face open and sincere, and Taylor completely mellows, a comforting feeling settling low in her stomach. “Good night, baby.”

She blows a kiss to the screen and Taylor’s about to say something when the video feed turns shaky and she hears a loud “Ow!” and all she can see is darkness for a brief few moments before Karlie plucks the phone from her face.

“For the sake of your beautiful face, good night,” Taylor says around a laugh and Karlie just grumbles a quick goodnight before ending the video call.

The following morning, Karlie’s alarm goes off and Taylor groans at the loud sound. She doesn’t move, too comfortable nestled in Karlie’s arms, but Karlie isn’t moving either, doesn’t seem to have woken up and Taylor whines softly in protest.

“Karlie…” Taylor croaks out, but she receives no response. A quick, sharp nudge also goes unnoticed so Taylor groans loudly, hoping that will be enough to wake her and when it doesn’t, she reluctantly pushes up from the bed.

Shifting over, Taylor whines again when she sees that Karlie’s phone is almost at the outside edge of her nightstand and that she won’t be able to reach it, so she finally pushes the sheets away, frowning as she stretches over Karlie’s body and struggles to turn off her alarm.

“This is a nice view,” Karlie murmurs sleepily, eyes blinking slowly and Taylor glares down at her in response. Karlie reaches out and wraps her arms around Taylor’s bare back firmly and Karlie grins. “What a wake-up.”

“I wanted to sleep in today,” Taylor grumbles in annoyance, not having gotten home to their Beverly Hills house until the early hours of the morning after the show, but she still lets Karlie pull her closer, shifting until their bodies are pressed together, Karlie’s lips kissing along the column of her neck.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to turn it off yesterday,” Karlie says without an ounce of regret in her tone as she nips at Taylor’s skin.

“You know that I love you, but you’re really testing the limits of that,” Taylor mumbles into her pillow as she shifts off Karlie and settling beside her hoping to go back to sleep.  

Karlie just laughs at the petulant tone of Taylor’s voice as she settles facing Taylor, wrapping her arms around her waist and drops a kiss to her neck. “Let me make it up to you.”

Taylor relents, tilting her head further to the side in encouragement and lets out a sleepy sigh which comes out a little too breathless to be blamed on her still waking body.

Karlie brushes her lips against Taylor’s temple, lips pursing enough for a soft kiss and Taylor melts even more into her when she feels Karlie smile against her skin.

Karlie’s hand snakes up Taylor’s side until the tips reach Taylor’s neck and she cradles Taylor’s jaw, smile widening when Taylor blinks open her eyes slowly.

Taylor licks her lips a second before Karlie kisses them, smiles and tilts her head for a better angle as she parts her lips and lets Karlie lick into her mouth, the laziness of the kiss settling comfortably over them.

Taylor feels unhurried as she lets Karlie explore her mouth, her warm fingertips gentle on the line of her jaw and Taylor shifts on to her back without pulling away, allowing Karlie to settle more comfortably on top of her.

Karlie slows then, knowing that they both have the entire day to themselves so she can take her time, and her eyelashes flutter against Taylor’s cheek as she blinks a few times to clear her head.

“I love you,” Karlie whispers and she revels in the slow smile that spreads across Taylor’s face at the words.  

“Yeah?” Taylor asks, trailing her fingers up and down Karlie’s back.

“Mhm-hm.”

“I love you too,” Taylor murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to Karlie’s lips.

Karlie pulls away and resumes pressing kisses to the side of Taylor’s head until she reaches that spot just behind Taylor’s ear, and her lips curve up into a smile when she feels Taylor shiver against her.

Taylor leans back further into her pillow tilting her head to give her more access.

Karlie keeps dropping a lazy flurry of shallow kisses to Taylor’s neck, down and back up again, nipping at the corner of her jaw.

“You are, without a doubt, the best thing that’s ever been mine,” Karlie whispers and Taylor’s eyes flutter closed as her heart thuds in her chest, even as she stifles a laugh at Karlie’s blatant use of her own lyrics.

“I love being your lover,” Karlie continues and Taylor is about to call her out for it when she becomes faintly aware of Karlie’s fingers sliding over her upper arm and over the back of her hand, tangling their fingers and lifting their joined hands so she can drop a chaste kiss to Taylor’s palm.

“You’re so incredible, and that brain of yours never ceases to amaze me,” she continues with a quick press of her lips to the side of Taylor’s head before returning to her favourite spot on Taylor’s neck.

“You’re funny and dorky and adorable.” Her teeth scrape softly, drawing a soft whimper from Taylor.  

Karlie’s voice drops then as her lips brush against the shell of Taylor’s ear again, nails dragging along her collarbone inwards and pausing at the base of her throat and Taylor’s chest goes tight with anticipation.

“And you are so fucking beautiful,” she husks and it takes a tremendous effort for Taylor to keep her eyes focused on Karlie.

“Do you have any idea how it makes me feel when you’re on stage and everybody is looking at you, captivated by you and I know I’m the one who gets to take you home?”

“Karlie,” she moans softly at that, because even though she’d suspected, and on some level known that to be true, in all their time together, Karlie had never outright admitted it, and to do so with desire lacing her tone so heavily, Taylor’s head goes light and dizzy with want.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

A needy whimper falls from Taylor’s lips even though Karlie hasn’t done anything else, her touches light and innocent and even her lips barely brush her skin but the words, and the low, heady voice they’re spoken in, make her skin flush with warmth.

Before they can get too carried away, Taylor brings her hand up to cup Karlie’s jaw, coaxing her to turn her head and meet her eyes. “Thank you,” Taylor says softly leaning up to rest her forehead against Karlie’s.

“For what?”

“Everything,” Taylor whispers against Karlie’s lips. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you, you know that right?”

“Yes you could,” Karlie replies, smile softening at the open, earnest look on Taylor’s face. “You won’t ever have to but you could. I don’t think there’s anything that you couldn’t do.”

“I did somehow convince you to marry me,” Taylor teases.

Karlie doesn’t reply, just hums before leaning in to press a kiss to Taylor’s forehead.

“Best decision I ever made,” Taylor says decisively, wrapping her arms tighter around Karlie’s waist.

“Besides falling in love with me?”

“Oh no,” Taylor says immediately, shaking her head and she has to stifle a laugh when Karlie narrows her eyes at her with suspicion. “Falling for you wasn’t a decision at all,” she whispers pressing a kiss to Karlie’s cheek. “It was inevitable and entirely unavoidable.”

“Ooh,” Karlie says in a teasing voice but her steadily widening smile gives her away. “That was really romantic.”

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 28 [94%]

The house was swarming with agent activity as you landed. People coming and going, doing who knew what, poking around and looking at all manner of things you thought they maybe shouldn’t have been. After all, inside of the rubble that was the aftermath of Tony’s stupidity (...and desperation) were parts of your life. And you’d about had enough of SHIELD for the time being.

“Excuse me- excuse me- put that down.” Following after some random suit the moment you got inside. Tony hung back. Admiring. “Go away. Stop touching everything. What are you people even doing??”

“Control your girl.” Fury’s voice was no surprise to hear.

“She’s not mine to control.” Tony’s tone was slyly amused.

Natalie called your name, also no surprise- ...Natasha, you reminded yourself. Looking questioningly at her, she motioned for you to move. “Come with me, please.”

“Why?” Frustrated beyond end.

Fury’s hands were on his hips. “Because you’re about to clean up this mess you’ve been ignoring and I need to speak to him.” Directing all his fresh ire your way. “You two need to spend some time apart. It might work wonders.”

“You’re not gonna order me around-” Everything was catching up to you. And with a relatively new take on things, and the wonders that were not living life in constant pain, you were raring to go.

“Oh, but I am. And you’d better take real quick to liking being ordered around-”

“Okay, alright, children, stop.” Tony stepped between the two of you, holding one finger up to Fury before turning to you, putting his hands on your arms. “You’re making me be the sensible one?”

Immediately that made you feel bad. “You’re not saying he’s right, are you?”

He wore half a frown. “Not about everything. But… we are in a bit of a mess. And you’re the only one capable of fixing it. That mess, anyway. And my mess… I’ll fix that.”

It was too much to ask of him, but you couldn’t help yourself in doing so, looking up at him pleadingly. “Promise?”

Half a shrug, “We’ll see. If their information is any good. I’m more on the doubting side, considering. But at least you’ll be off the hook in that case, right?” His grin was only there for a few seconds before he realized the look you were giving him.

Hurt. “Tony.”

“Right- right, not a good time to be making mortality jokes. Just. Go with them. Alright? I won’t die at least until you get back.”

Heaving only the biggest sigh you could manage, you nodded. What choice did you have anyway? Even though it was a terrible thing to admit, they were right. Stark Industries needed to be looked after. You’d tried your best between all the Iron Man happenings as of late, but the second Tony had told you the truth, that all went on the back burner. You’d shoved every meeting aside that you possibly could and had not been attentive in all the rest. Not to mention your overt bullying of people around you to get them to go faster. Because it had all come down to a few more days.

Now there was time. You hoped. You really hoped. Because if SHIELD was just messing around, Fury was going to be the first to go. You’d see to it personally. You didn’t care who he thought he was or how powerful he pretended to be.

If he had messed with the two of you for months just to play games and lead Tony into a dead end that meant you couldn’t be by his side when- if he…

Don’t think about it.

But suffice it to say.

There would be murder.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Leaning up, you pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. There was a disgusting groan from behind you. “Don’t let him push you around.”

“Do I let anyone?” He was softly smiling. At the little tilt of your head and the knowing raise of your brows, that expression moved to a grin. “Right. But you’re going to the office.”

Finally you allowed them to take control of the situation, stepping away from him completely and following Natasha down to the second guest bathroom. A very stylish dress and cardigan were laid out on the bed along with some pumps you’d never seen before in your life. “You’re dressing me now?”

“Figured it would move things along faster. ...Listen, I don’t want for there to be any negative feelings between us.” Her honesty shocked you.

So much so that you immediately thought she had to be up to something, no longer willing to trust her. “You were doing a job. I guess I can’t fault you for that.” You could, and you still might. But some part of you knew this to be true.

“I have to remain at Stark Industries for now. My cover needs to stay intact.” Ah. So there it was.

“Of course.” How could you dream of threatening SHIELD operations? You had no idea why, maybe they were just there until the situation was completely resolved, now that they’d inserted themselves so fully. What could you do about it? Absolutely nothing, clearly. “I’m going to take a shower. In the meantime, schedule phone calls with Burt Theriault and Heather Madison.”

It would probably just be best to pretend things were as they were. That she was somebody’s personal assistant. Might as well be yours again and put her to work. She nodded. “You also have some papers to sign for the Expo- Justin Hammer has a slot expedited for tomorrow, the organizers already gave it to him. And you a meeting at two with R&D.”

Hammer? Why now? What could he possibly have? Unbelievable. Would his pox on your life never end? “Alright. One thing at a time.”

“It’s recommended you take a flight out to New York tonight. The Expo runners are drowning.”

This you didn’t fully trust. What with Fury having just told you he wanted to separate you and Tony, it seemed very convenient the Expo people were suddenly having problems. But, at the same time, it might also do well to make sure Hammer didn’t burn the place down. “Yeah. Alright. Make sure the jet is ready.”

You had no choice.

And if you came home to find out Tony had died under their care it would be the end of all existence as they knew it.

But you were sure that didn’t need to be said. “I mean it, by the way.” Natasha said just as she was going to leave. You only gave her a questioning glance. Tired. “I’d like it if we continued to get along.”

“For your cover?” Unable to help the vitriol this was spat with.

“Not just that.” And then she shut the door behind her. Leaving you feeling guilty. And angry. And worn down.

When would it end?

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

 After getting cleaned up and dressed (and realizing you had not slept in quite some time), you tried to check in with Tony before leaving. Only to be met with one Agent Coulson, arms crossed, already giving you a shake of his head to indicate that no you were not allowed to speak with Tony.

Then, “You don’t look very pleased to see me.”

“I’m not very pleased with the set of circumstances I find myself in.” About as plainly true as you could be.

“You called me and I’m here. What’s not to be pleased about?” At least he seemed genuinely questioning.

But you made a face. “Fury was going to come anyway.” Since Natasha had been clearly watching over things, Fury had been bound to make an appearance sooner or later.

“Was he?”

You didn’t know what to make of this, and honestly didn’t care to think on it for very much longer. ...regardless of your wishes, though, those two words and the tone they’d been said it followed you around for the next few hours. On the drive to the office, through the first two meetings of the day, and into Tony’s office, which you’d long since commandeered as your own. At least someone had had the good sense to try and clean up the mess you’d made the night before.

Bill O’Reilly was on your television, screaming about that you had no qualifications and therefore no right to be sitting pretty on top of Stark Industries. How crazy Tony was for doing such a thing. How bad this made the company look. Better to pretend to listen to that opposition now, because you couldn’t avoid another interview with them forever. It only made you look weak, and Stark Industries by comparison. Just another thing to feel preemptively exhausted about.

 Was he?

 Pretending your involvement with SHIELD’s dealings, more specifically so in the way of saving Tony, was anything more than nothing… it wasn’t smart. It was probably more of their mind games, which you’d have to really get yourself up to speed on. Tony may not have seen everything, but he seemed to know a lot more about what was going on than you. He may not have pegged Natasha right, but he’d known some stranger coming in and getting cozy with you had been wrong.

You’d just been content to let her. And if not for Tony, who knew how sick you actually would have gotten.

 Crossed some wires we didn’t mean to.

 You’d been easy fodder for them to just trample. If she’d used whatever that was, that chemical cocktail, for much longer, if Tony hadn’t stepped in, what might have happened? Something irreversible?

You weren’t ready for this life. You knew it. You just knew it. The superhero stuff and now the secrets and the lies and… all of it. Just all of it. How was a normal person supposed to just wade through all of this? Make sense of any of it? Survive it?

...not thinking about that you were not normal. You had never been normal. But you wanted desperately to be. So badly. Maybe the only thing you wanted in life- ...but was that true? Was that true at all when you’d tried yourself to get in with Tony Stark so you could save the world? Your ambitions were high, coming off guilt that was also perhaps substantially more than the average person.

There was nothing normal about you. And this was the life you had chosen.

Closing your eyes briefly you pretended you were anywhere but here. Anywhere but in the midst of corporate chaos that you were being more or less forced to control, engaged in some government conspiracy dealing with heroes and evils, still worried that Tony may or may not make it… for a moment you were just laughing on the beach on Avalon aside him as the cold waters rushed up…

“Mr. Theriault for you on line one.”

Gone in the next instant.

Picking up the phone you immediately let yourself drown in the next big thing to tackle. Rhodey had stolen that suit, whether or not he thought he was in the right was no longer the issue. Whatever had transpired between he and Tony was no longer the issue.

Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes had stolen Tony Stark’s property. In essence, the US government and military had stolen a private citizen’s property. That could not stand. If you had any hope of getting it away from them- and you would, now that Rhodey didn’t need to be in the pilot seat of Tony’s dying light- you had to start in fast and hard. Deploy the best lawyers Stark Industries had to offer.

Because otherwise the military was going to weaponize that suit and use it for means it was not meant for. Even this gave you certain pause, however. Just thinking. Thinking about the things Tony had been self employed in. The missions he’d gone on in the name of… only something he knew. You grasped it, faintly. Briefly. These people were not good that was for certain. Tony’s judgment about that was not what you questioned.

It was just everything else surrounding it. But you could talk to Tony. You could perhaps talk him out of doing something drastic, if it ever came to that. You couldn’t tell the military not to blow people up. It was one of their favorite things to do. No one knew that better than you- except perhaps Tony.

But fighting this battle seemed harder than you first anticipated. Burt wasn’t really being very helpful. He’d opened with that this might not have been the best use of company resources, but when you’d worn him out on that nothing could be more important than protecting the intellectual property of Mr. Stark, he began whining about how starting in on this would be almost impossible.

“We’re going to pursue this- and I don’t care if it’s work you don’t want to do-”

“It’s not work that I don’t want to do Ms.-” “It sounds an awful lot like you don’t. We have propriety ownership of all Iron Man suits- including the Mark II that was stolen, and may very well be in current use-”

“I understand… I understand...”

“I don’t think you do.”

A familiar voice sounded off behind you, “Mute.” The babbling on the TV went dark and you spun your chair half around and looked over your shoulder to see Tony sheepishly wandering into the office. Despite yourself you couldn’t help a relieved smile, holding a finger up to him to let him know you’d be done in a moment.

“I’ll- I’ll start my team on it. We can talk more about it at the Expo- you’re attending tonight, aren’t you?”

A sigh escaped you. “Yes.” Unfortunately.

“And uh… will Mr. Stark also be going…?” There was a hopeful tone in his voice. Asking really if he could sidestep you to the real boss and talk some sense into him. Because clearly you were crazy.

“Mr. Stark?” Looking up again you saw Tony standing next to the old 1974 Expo model that had been dislodged in your pained fury the night before. Someone on staff had cleaned most of it up, leaving it against the bookcase near the door, sheet half draped over it. It needed to go somewhere, you just hadn’t decided where yet. “No, Mr. Stark will not be attending.” Tony looked over at you and gave a curious raise of his shoulders.

“Ah. I see. That’s too bad. Well, I have to be going. Speak more to you tonight. Goodbye.”

You let him hang up, putting the phone back down on the desk with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. Tony approached, setting a small basket of strawberries down and then taking a seat. “Rough day at the office, honey?”

“Oh, how could you tell?” Sitting back in your chair, you regarded him. He didn’t look any worse than when you’d left him- but he didn’t exactly look any better either. ...although he did look like he had fallen into a heap of clothes as his way of getting dressed. Wearing a dark button up under a dark loose sweater under a tan suit jacket and pants that were one size too big. A travesty to see his usual sharp self in a manner like that. Maybe he did need you to dress him after all… “I thought I was pretty explicitly told by a big scary government agent that you weren’t allowed out of the house.” The least of your worries- if Tony was set to work, that was a good thing. Whatever they’d given him that was supposed to be helping should have been his main focus.

“Who- Coulson? If you think Agent Coulson is big and scary we need to have a serious talk.” Grinning lightly. But then he just raised his hands. “You know me. I don’t do so well with taking orders.”

“Or captivity.” Reaching over you took one of the strawberries. “Are these fresh?”

“Right off the tree.” His grin grew as he coerced a giggle from you. But then he slid back in his chair. “I don’t know… I think I have some of the pieces, but not everything. I guess I came looking for a muse.” All charm as he set his eyes on you.

You smiled, not wanting to let him get to you. “Or an excuse to get out of the house.”

His head rocked lightly back and forth. “Muse. Excuse. Either way. I’m here.” As your eyes met again, you waited. He wanted to tell you something. You could feel it. So used to that now. “I’m almost there. And that’s given me some time to think. I know- I think we already hashed it all out but- I just want to make sure.”

Raising your brow, “I don’t know if I’m on the same page.”

“Well. As I recall. You were about to dump me before I told you I was dying.” Putting it so plainly nearly gave you whiplash. And also made you feel just utterly terrible. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not staying with me. Out of pity.”

But this encouraged half a smile. “You earned yourself a one time get-out-of-jail free card with the whole dying thing. So don’t think too much about that.”

“Well. I am.” There was some gloom lingering over him, clearly stressed with this just a little bit. Reaching over the desk you took his hand in yours, but he continued. “I know I don’t always say the right things- and god knows I don’t ever do the right thing. But I was just forced to open the proverbial album of my life and I realized I don’t want to make the same mistakes that everyone else around me did.” You weren’t really sure what all this meant, all you knew was that he was getting some relief from speaking so candidly. So you let him continue.

“I don’t want to just one day tell people I loved you behind your back, but leave you wondering. Or worse for wear. It doesn’t make sense. It’s backwards. So I’m telling you now- honey- when I figure this all out, I’m giving you 300%. And nothing less.”

His words warmed you to your core. Not exactly sure what he’d been doing in the house, or what Fury had given him that had made him re-examine his life this way. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it in full, so you didn’t want to ask. “A lot of things… a lot of things leading up to me saying what I said were out of both of our control. I think when we’re able to map out our own lives- when we have the full picture- things will be easier.” His expression remained impassive. “I love you, Tony. I can’t lie and tell you I haven’t been thinking about how utterly absurd and crazy our lives have gotten- because I have. But at the end of the day, I know the struggle is worth it. Because I have you.”

Squeezing your hand tight, he finally smiled and then looked away. “See? Muse moment.”

As if right on cue, the door to the office opened, and Natasha called your name. “Your next meeting is set up in the conference room. Your flight will be ready after that. Can you sign this for me, it’s the release Cordco wanted. I have some patent and trial requests that need to be looked over from a Mr. Beck as well.” Coming to your side, she held open a folder. “Mr. Hammer is still insisting on your invitation to his presentation, as well.”

“Hello, Ms. Rushman. Natalie. That is your name right, Natalie?” Tony stayed seated, eyeing her. “How are you? Still blending in well?”

Natasha glared at him. You didn’t know what to make of it. Clearly he didn’t like her. You probably should have felt the same way. Taking hold of the pen on your desk, you scrawled your signature on the papers for her. “Thank you, Natalie.” The door to the office was open. People were listening. “I’ll be right there.”

She got the hint, snapping the folder shut and nodding. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let them know.” Though she couldn’t seem to help directing one last thing at Tony as she was on her way out. “Shouldn’t you be at the house?”

“I’m on a twenty minute sabbatical.”

You stood next, although you stopped aside him as he still was sitting. Perhaps very reluctant to go back to work? Not that you understood it. Time was growing short… and yet he was still determined to play it cool. He really must have had it under control. You hoped. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek in your palm. “I have to get back to work.”

“Right. Work.”

“And so do you.” Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

A tired smile was directed up at you. “You’re going to New York, right?”

“Someone has to make sure Hammer doesn’t blow the place up.” You really didn’t want it to be you. More than tired of having to deal with him. But you had a feeling his insistence was coming at a high price. To make a fool of you if you didn’t show. But also if you did. A no win scenario. As expected when it came to dealing with him.

“Oh. Hammer found a slot, huh?” Grinning up at you.

You had no idea what this meant. “I didn’t sanction it.” Too busy with Tony related activities at the time to have done so.

He shrugged. “Go. Do your work thing and… I’ll do mine.” Leaning up closer, he beckoned you into a soft kiss that lasted too short a time.

The office door was still open.

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

 You forced the last meeting of the day to a short and merciful end. Literally forced, finding solace in that flexing your powers to make everyone in the room feel good no longer left you feeling ill in turn. Just enough ego stroking and big talking to get by until the next time you’d have the displeasure of having to sit down with the same group again.

There was only reason you��d rushed- well… aside not really wanting to deal with them. Slipping out past Natasha who you’d set up to be busy with something else, and Happy who was simply busy chatting up somebody in the lobby. Grabbing a car to get over to the manor had never been so easy.

You crept up the front lawn, the flurry of agent activity had completely died down, and you put some sense out into the world, trying to get a feel for who was there. Somebody was distracted by the TV in the kitchen, so you hopped around the back.

As you keyed yourself into the back door, you found him sitting in his lab, awash in a beautiful blue glow. He was sitting inside some new giant hologram that took up half the room- a ball- an atom? Looking up with the biggest smile on his face.

You’d never seen him look like that before. Sort of breathtaking in a way. Beautiful. He motioned for you to come closer, so you did, leaving your bag on the table, moving behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “What is it?” Clearly his big breakthrough.

Reaching up and then quickly slamming his hands together, the blue dissipated, shrinking down to fit in between his fingers in a little ball. He held it up. “This is it.” Then quieter, “Thanks, dad.”

What he’d been looking for.

 Tony was going to live.

 That thought alone released so much relief you thought you might pass out. You squeezed him, resting your head against his in a little nuzzle. “Palladium replacement?” Just to confirm. You needed to be sure.

Reaching up, he beckoned something with a waggle of his pointer finger. “Mark VI, front and center.” You let go of him just a little, hands moving just to hold his shoulders as he slid forward. A hologram mock up of the Iron Man Mark VI burst to life, the wireframe not completely finished, calculations and all sorts of little numbers you’d never understand floating around it. Reaching forward he moved to deposit this new thing into the chest piece.

“Sir, this implies a theoretical element not currently found on the periodic table.” JARVIS spoke up just as Tony dropped this supposed element in.

The suit started to light up red before turning blue, spreading outward from the chest. “I think you’re gonna be alright, kid.” Tony’s voice was barely a whisper, speaking to himself as it looked like all the vitals inside the hypothetical suit were normalizing.

“More than alright.” Feeling that flush of hope, letting it bounce between the two of you as you gave him another squeeze and a press of a kiss to his temple.

“I will run a simulation to check element viability.” JARVIS chiming in again, still trying to do work while you and Tony were bounding steps ahead of him.

“Yeah, listen, you have a ball with that.” Tony was all smiles, moving around in the chair to stand. You looked up at him, he gazed back. The room felt so warm. “I know it’s gonna work.” Lifting your hands in his, he pressed a few kisses to the backs of your fingers.

“It better. You’re not allowed to die on me.” This was your baseline for normal, you knew it now. And nothing made you happier.

“Yes, ma’am.” Letting go with one hand to give you a two fingered mock salute. His arm then came around your shoulders, leading you away to the front door of the lab. “JARVIS, tap the Oracle grid. I need some stuff out of storage. Get me everything from projects PEGASUS, EXODUS, and GOLIATH. And get ready for a major remodel, we’re back in hardware mode.” There was practically no hiding the excitement in his voice, and it had wrapped you up in a whirl. Only halfway up the stairs did he finally ask, “What are you doing here anyway?”

“You’re not the only one who can sneak by big scary government agents.” Speaking of which… that presence in the kitchen had vanished completely. The manor was now empty. Strange.

“Again- if that’s your definition of big and scary we’re gonna have to have a real talk. I’m starting to get worried.” Stopping just at the top of the stairs, he reached up, cradling the sides of your face in his palms. It was so easy to get lost. “Really. What are you doing here? Didn’t you have a million things going on?” His smile was gentle. “Checking up on me?”

Sliding your hands up over his, you held him there, eyes closing just for a moment. Memorizing the feel of him. “I had to make sure.”

When you opened your eyes again he was very close. “Good news. I’m gonna make it.”

Despite your best efforts, there was a well of tears that touched against the line of your lashes. Relieved. So utterly relieved and overwhelmed. You’d been on that path since this morning, feeling like Fury showing up out of nowhere- well, not nowhere, but unexpectedly- was really going to set everything straight. You weren’t sure what he’d given Tony. But it was enough. More than enough. “Thanks for sticking it out.”

“What did I tell you?” There was a fresh wet sheen in his eyes, probably just reciprocal. Your fault. Leaning in he let his lips linger against your forehead as his arms wrapped you up tight. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” You rested your face against his chest and barely heard the murmur, more felt the rumble of his voice against your ear. “Thanks.”

 For not giving up on me. For staying. For trying.

For everything.

[knivestothroats]

Part 6

List of Episodes

This one is pretty tame. Mostly dealing with how people are treating Ace now that they have free range of the base again.

~~ 

Ace walked through the doors of the infirmary and stopped dead. Luke was sitting on one of the beds, next to another man Ace didn’t recognize. In reality, they had seen this man with Luke before, the first time Matty had pointed him out, but Ace hadn’t really been paying attention to anyone else.

Ace’s mind raced. Should they pretend they didn’t know him? They didn’t want Luke to think they remembered anything from their time under Miranda’s control. They knew who Luke was, but only because they had been told about him by others. That felt weird to say, but they didn’t want to lie, and–

“Hey, Ace,” Luke said. “Do you remember me?”

Remember you? Only from seeing you around the base. Not that I was watching you…

“N-no,” Ace said. “But… one of my friends told me…” That we’ve met? “Who you are. Um…” Ace felt like they should apologize, but honestly they had no idea if they had done anything to apologize for. Surely they had, but they had no idea what. Maybe just, sorry for what happened to you? Too detached. Sorry you got dragged into this? Sorry..?

Dr. Greene walked in before they could decide how to continue.

“Dr. Rosenthal isn’t in today,” He said, skipping the formalities. “You’ll have to come back later to do your check up with me.”

Ugh.

“Why do I have to come back later? I’m here now,” Ace said.

“I’m with another patient, and you can’t be in the room.”

Luke looked like he was going to speak up, but Ace beat him to it.

“You didn’t mind me being in the room when you kept me in a hospital bed for three days.” Ace pointed out, folding their arms. There wasn’t really a point in arguing, but they had to get their digs in where they could. “Whatever. When do I have to come back?”

Dr. Greene checked his watch and said, “Give it an hour.”

“’Kay,” Ace said, turning on their heel toward the door. “Looking forward to it.”

They hadn’t gotten very far down the hall before they heard a voice call out to them. Ace turned around to see Luke’s friend jogging up.

“You should stay away from Luke,” he said when he reached them.

Ace felt their chest tighten. “I didn’t know he was in there.”

“He needs space to heal, away from the people that hurt him,” the friend said.

I hurt him?

“He sees you as like…” the man struggled to find the right words. “Like, like a friend or something. It’s probably something he had to do to survive in there. He needs time in a safe place so he can recognize that what you did to him is bad.”

“What–” Ace stopped themselves before asking what did I do to him?

“I get that it wasn’t you,” the friend continued. “But… it was, physically, you. And I don’t think it’d be good for him to be around you until he’s had time to recover.”

“Okay, well,” Ace couldn’t help but feel defensive. They folded their arms across their chest and glanced away. “It’s not exactly like I’m blowing up his phone.”

“I know,” said Luke’s friend, sounding defensive now too. “I’m just… being preemptive. I think he might try to reach out to you.”

Ace didn’t know how to take that information. Was that a bad thing? Luke was the only person who knew what happened during Ace’s missing time. And if he wanted to reach out to Ace… it couldn’t be that bad, right? Wouldn’t he know better than others if he should stay away from Ace? Or was it like his friend said; some kind of defense mechanism he needed to overcome? Like Stockholm syndrome? Dr. Greene seemed to think so too, and, despite whatever feelings he and Ace had for each other, he was a doctor.

Not a psychiatrist, though.

“Well, if that’s what you think is best,” Ace managed, “I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Thank you,” the friend said. He turned away and walked back to the infirmary.

--

Matty was in some sort of debriefing, so Ace had to walk the halls alone. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, so Ace was stuck eating in the cafeteria. They picked an empty table, and sat with their back to the rest of the room. It felt like, if they turned around to look, everyone would be staring at them. Ace tried to ignore the paranoia. Under the table, they pulled a folding knife out of their pocket. It was spring loaded, and was designed to be open with one hand. Closing it with one hand was trickier, and Ace occupied themselves by practicing doing just that. Flick open, press the release, push the flat side against their leg, close the knife. Repeat.

They were starting to relax when they suddenly felt something thunk against the back of their skull. Hand to their head, they looked down to see an apple, smashed, where it had landed on the floor. They could hear snickers and murmurs behind their back.

Don’t look. You won’t be able to tell who threw it, they told themselves. And if even if you did, you can’t fight them. You have to prove that you’re not a threat. Everyone just needs a target to take their grief out on. Let that be you for a while. Let it play out.  

Ace regretted not just taking their lunch back to their room to eat there, but they couldn’t bail out now. Not yet.

Don’t let them see you tuck tail and run. Just finish your food, and then you can go.

Ace ate what they could stomach, remained for what they hoped was an appropriate amount of time to let eyes slide off them, and then made their retreat. Once in the relative safety of the corridors, they checked the time. They could afford 10 or 15 minutes of hiding in their room before they had to go back to the infirmary for their check-up.

As they were heading back to the dorms, wondering what the hell even constitutes as a “check-up” in this situation, somebody shoved them hard into the wall.

Ace spun around to face their assailant, rage boiling their blood. Three other agents huddled around them.

“Careful,” one of them said. “They’ve been known to kill their own team.”

The heat from Ace’s anger turned to cold dread.

The one in front, Tate, got in their face. “You shouldn’t be allowed to walk free around here.” He shoved them again.

It wasn’t that Ace was outnumbered that concerned them. Sure, everyone here had been trained, but Ace was one of the best agents, and everybody knew it. The problem was, Ace knew what would happen if they hurt fellow agents. They knew what people would think.

They can’t be trusted; they’re still rabid.

“Well?” Tate prompted. “You got anything to say for yourself? Or did you ‘forget’ how to speak, too?” he put air quotes around forget, as if Ace was lying about their lost time.

Ace, never one to walk away from a fight, was running scenarios in their head on how best to get out of this situation – without losing their dignity, freedom, or teeth – when Matty rounded the corner.

His surprised smile from running into Ace without having to track them down was only briefly present on his face, quickly erased when he surveyed the scene.

“Hey,” he said easily. “What’s going on?”

Tate gave a smile. “We just wanted to see how Ace is feeling these days.”

He put his hand on Ace’s shoulder and gave it a fake-friendly squeeze. Ace clenched their jaw and fought against feelings of revulsion.

The trio walked away and Matty turned to Ace.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ace grumbled. To Matty’s concerned and unconvinced look, they added, “You know I could handle myself if there was a problem.”

“Yeah,” Matty relented uneasily. “That’s true. Uh, how did you check-up go?”

“Ugh, Dr. Rosenthal wasn’t there, so I have to go back and do it with Dr. Greene.”

“Oh, that sucks. Do you want me to come with you?”

Ace rubbed their shoulder absently. “It’s whatever, you can if you want. Luke’s friend was there with him, but Dr. Greene might change the rules for me.”

“You saw Luke?” Matty asked.

Ace immediately felt like they had been caught doing something wrong. “Uh, briefly.”

“Did you get to talk to him?”

“Not really,” Ace said.

“Well, he probably knows more than anyone what happened during that time. You know, when you’re ready to hear about it,” Matty said.

Ace rubbed the back of their head, and then tugged on their overgrown hair. “Everyone’s telling me I should stay away from him,” they muttered.

Matty’s eyebrows pulled together. “Like who?”

“Uh, Dr. Greene and Luke’s friend. They said he needs time to recover from… me, I guess.”

Matty thought for a moment. “Did Luke seem scared when you saw each other?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. He asked if I remembered him. That’s about it.” Ace sighed. “His friend said he, like, thinks of me as a friend, but I… hurt him. I guess. I don’t – I don’t know what I did, obviously. So. How, uh, how was your debriefing?”

“Oh, uh,” Matty shifted uncomfortably. “I’m, uh… Brooks is sending me on an assignment. With Jess and Nadia.”

Ace nodded slowly. “Well, Jess and Nadia combined are almost as good as having me there,” they joked. “Uh, when..?”

“Tomorrow,” Matty said. “It’s gonna be a few days.”

“Okay. Well…” Ace looked at their watch. “I gotta head to the infirmary.”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” Matty said.

They walked in silence for a moment before Matty said, “You know, if you didn’t want to beat those guys up yourself, I could do it. Or I can get Jess and Nadia to help me as a sort of pre-mission team bonding exercise.”

Ace laughed. “Let’s hold off,” they said. “I might need to ask you to jump Dr. Greene instead, depending on how this check-up goes.”

[continues here]

[atasteforsuicidal]

this should be under a read more but tumblr mobile is being a shit to please scroll and mind the tags.

it’s so hard, knowing and believing that quality of life is more important than quantity of life, but also desperately not wanting to confront that fact about someone you love.

the past 15ish months have been full of close calls and probably some of the most painful and trying times of my nanny dubé’s life. she’s been back in the hospital for 9 weeks now this time, after managing to get out for several months, and has already had one of her legs amputated to stop the spread of gangrene and more blood transfusions than i probably know about.

last may, her circulation dropped to zero percent (or close to it), due to calcification in her veins, and in the process, one of her toes died. having eventually gotten her circulation back up to something survivable (with regular treatments), the spread of the dead flesh stopped, so they simply waited out the toe falling off instead of operating. i guess it got infected a few months ago and spread drastically; they took the leg off above the knee. i was stunned when she agreed to the surgery. my nanny is stubborn to a fault, and losing control of her body must be killing her.

she was losing bladder control before she was admitted to the hospital for the gangrene, or returned circulation issues, or whatever it was that set off this visit. the family was about to have a serious talk with her about how aunt charmaine can’t care for her at home, and that it was time to go into a home. they didn’t get to have that talk, but i think nanny knew. when she was admitted to the hospital, she essentially acknowledged that she knew she wouldn’t be going home when she was released.

she had a nasal feeding tube for a little while, but they got rid of it because she was managing to eat some on her own. she’s not a candidate for the kind that goes into the side or stomach; her skin is too fragile, and there’s barely any fat between it and her bones and organs. i think my mum told me she was down below 70 pounds last time i asked.

she’s been having trouble eating and drinking though, especially since the surgery two or so weeks ago. she’s having difficulty swallowing, and she says food is just unappetizing and turns her stomach to even look at. but she’s trying. she asks for things, and sometimes she eats part of them when the family brings it for her, and sometimes she doesn’t. she doesn’t like to lie on her back, because she fears that everything is going to fall in on her. i suggested talking to her doctors about anxiety and depression medications (there is no doubt in my mind that she’s had anxiety for at LEAST my entire lifetime, likely longer, and i suspect that the loss of control over her body and day to day life is causing depression. i suspect the surgery is likely causing some form of ptsd, too); they said they give her atavan when she needs it (mum pointed out how unlikely nanny was to tell them) and that since antidepressants take 4-6 weeks to kick in, they don’t want to try it. nanny says she’s already on too many medications as it is, wonders if they’re trying to kill her with overmedicating.

my uncle is visiting right now, and the four siblings are going to be having a meeting with my grandmother and her doctor tomorrow about quality over quantity, about if she actually wants to keep trying, and what that will look like.

she just turned 86 today. she’s had a long life. a good life, overall.

she already has a dnr, and she’s sound of mind enough to make her own decisions; it’s only her body that’s failing her.

i am terrified that she’s going to give up, to stop eating until her body gives out.

i’m terrified because i think it might be what’s best for her, but i don’t want it to be what she chooses.

i’m angry, too. when she got to go home from the hospital the first time, i let myself get complacent. i let myself believe that i had preemptively mourned for nothing, that of course nanny is too stubborn to go out like that. of course i spent time with her when i went home in february, but i don’t feel like it was enough. i don’t think i hugged her hard enough, because she’s just so fragile and i didn’t want to hurt her, which is the exact same regret i carry about jillian, even after 15 years.

if cassie and dj hadn’t broken up, i would be home right now; the wedding would have been today. i might have had the chance to say goodbye, if that’s what it comes to, and to tell her i love her one last time. to give her a proper hug.

i’m the only grandchild who hasn’t been to the hospital to see her, from my understanding. josh just moved back up here, but he saw her before he left. i was so angry, last time, that he didn’t, that he decided he didn’t want to remember her like that; i would have given anything to see her, and he was right there, and he wouldn’t. now, i’m just relieved he did this time. mum has taken jess and violet over, and river is too young to really know the difference. i know amber has taken gracie, so i would assume she’s taken xan, too, since he’s older. i can’t imagine cassie not visiting, and since her mom goes several times a week, then i assume her and elizabeth have gone with her at the very least, if not on their own. likewise, i’m guessing aj has gone in with aunt char, and i hope that nick has gone, too; she may only be his stepgrandmother, but she’s been in his life for years and years. rachel and lucas have gone to see her, since they’re visiting right now; mum says lucas left in tears the first time, and i’m not the least bit surprised. he’s had a really hard last year or so, and he’s a sensitive soul like me.

they’ve taken granddad in to see her a few times, and mum said they’ll take him again sometime this week.

her sister barb visits a lot, was even there with mum when the doctor was giving them the prognosis the other day; they were both in tears. her sister rhodessa is down home for her summer visit until the 21st, and i know she’s already been in a0t least once. i’m not sure if aunt fan or aunt loretta have been able to come see her. i can’t remember if there’s anyone else left, besides an in-law or two. i think it’s only the five jewers sisters left.

i’m not actually sure that uncle jacques and aunt claire, my grandfather’s brother and sister-in-law, have made it down to see her, but i think they might have.

i’m angry at myself for canceling my trip home, when the wedding was called off. i decided i’d rather be home for river’s first christmas, rather have an extra few days in vancouver back in june.

i expected nanny to still be okay; i had just seen her a few weeks before the break-up. she was home.

i might have made the wrong choice, and it’s killing me.

i’ll hear from mum on monday about how the talk went, but even if nanny does try, i’m scared it won’t extend things by much. if she won’t eat, if she can’t eat… i don’t think it will be long before her body starts shutting down on her.

even after she pulled through last time, i’m already spiraling into anticipatory grief again, and it’s worse this time. i cried through the entire call with my mum, and for a while afterwards. i stopped and cried a few times writing all this. i’m already making contingencies for if i have to get my shifts covered to fly home for the funeral. my therapist would probably be so disappointed to see me back exactly where we started.

i want a hug. i want my mum. i want my dad. i want to hold onto violet and river and never let them go because life is just too precious, and i’ve missed so much time with them already. i don’t want to say goodbye to my grandmother. i don’t want to see my grandfather give up when he loses her; he was so excited by the prospect of her joining him at the home. i don’t want to have to say goodbye to him, too.

i hate this.

[flakopancho]

Bro 1 - I’m going to compliment you on this thing you do but would normally insult others when they do it.

Wife 2 - what?

Bro 1 - calling my brother your boyfriend still, you’ve been married 12 years, but you still call each other nombres de novios, I guess it’s because you’ve been together since high school that it feels romantic or nostalgic, when other people do it, it feels forced or fake or campy in the worst way, like if I did that with my wife it would be so awkward and it would feel like we are too old to be saying boyfriend and girlfriend, when you do it its endearing

Wife 2 - - you’re a pretentious prick you know that?

Bro 1 - what?

Wife 2 -  why do you have to start everything with this defensive pre-take, so I don’t think you’re up to some maniacal side scheme when you talk to me...your dad does the same thing

Bro 1 - that makes sense then doesn’t it?

Wife 2 -  give me the agency to take the message as is without all your political spin beforehand okay, I can decide to trust your sincerity or not, okay, like you said 12 years and I’ve known you just as long, who started this preemptive strike move, who started this annoying trait in your clan I be-

Bro 1 - or maybe it’s a mitochondrial Eve thing

Wife 2 - - I’m going with Adam but with your mom you’d never know...

Bro 2 -- have yall seen the kids? what are yall doing?

Bro 1 - I was just telling your wife how much I admire your relationship, its someth-

Bro 2 --ya ya we're one happy family

Wife 2 - - why do you have to be like that you know you love me ´´she makes a kissy face at her husband``

Bro 2 -- ya of course I do, anyways have you seen the kids...we were playing hide and seek but I think they outsmarted me and left me high and dry

Wife 2 - - sounds about right, they have pulled the same trick on me a couple times lately, when I found them they were playing some imaginary game where they could all be whatever character they wanted, the trick made sense to me...they just wanted to be free for a moment, I get that

Bro 2 -- I get that too but for now we got three kids on the loose cause they wanted to be free and who knows where their little imaginations took them

Bro 1 - I’ll help you find them

Wife 2 - - I’ll bet they are okay and just about now have established the rules of their hide n seek oasis, leave them alone till they come for us

Bro 2 -- we will keep up the theme of hide n seek, they won’t know we found them, like when they were toddlers, remember?

Wife 2 - - whatever you say

Bro 1 - well let’s just go find them to not find them okay

Bro 2 -- so, what were you talking about the first Adam or what?

Wife 2 - - look at you always listening in

Bro 2 -- it’s not listening in if you were just trying to be a good father, I was gonna not find them before you mentioned it, but I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it

Wife 2 - - we’ve heard this before, you are first. and you are the best father, we know

Bro 2 -- I don’t even want to know our first Adam if it’s what connects me to your family

Bro 1 - what do you mean?

Wife 2 - - don’t encourage him

Bro 2 -- her family’s all degenerates, whoever connects me to her family can be nothing less than a miscreant of the highest order

Wife 2 - - well who knows how far back you had to go to connect us but one day you’ll be the first Adam for someone having this same fucked up conversation and you’ll be the degenerate connecting someone to my family line

Bro 1 - I don’t think that’s how the Adam and Eve thing works

Bro 2 -- tell her bro

Wife 2 - - here we go I know yall are going to gang up on me like always, you can never talk to two brothers, you know we were having a nice conversation before this pea brain arrived

Bro 1 - ya sorry about that but this is why I have to do the preemptive strike, I didn’t say you were wrong on the Adam and Eve thing because we are brothers, it was just because you were wrong about the Adam and Eve thing, when it comes to divorce I’m ride or die, until then I’m switching sides like some shit hamburgers, just one flip, okay guys, one flip!

Bro 2 -- do you realize no one can take you seriously when you get mad about the points you are trying to make

Bro 1 - Exactly. there’s no teams out here, and I stand by my passion for proper burger cooking procedure

Wife 2 - - so, father of the year went and found the kids huh

Bro 2 -- no teams remember, I’m going to let them come to us

Wife 2 - - I’m not going to make a big deal of this moment, so it happens again

Bro 2 -- well you’ve gloated a bit much and I’ll be sure it doesn’t

Bro 1 - Now that I think about it even though you were wrong about the Adam and Eve thing in one way like, wouldn’t your family be connected to you as the first eve and my bro would connect our family as the first Adam to connect whatever future person was talking about this? so the degenerate still would be you and not my bro, got to defend the bros, there are teams never forget that

Wife 2 - - you a real bitch you know that

Bro 1 - ya a pretty one though, but you were right though like one day we could all be the first Adams and Eves depending on how humans evolve, maybe you’ll both be a side branch because you don’t have the most advance genome like I do or maybe your daughter won’t have babies and my daughter going to have so many...just for the sake of being that mitochondrial Eve

Bro 2 -- still sounds kind of weird to be talking about this but our daughter can do whatever she wants

Bro 1 - come on she’s not here you can say what you really think

Wife 2 - - I will fight you if you try to talk shit about my daughters - you still don’t even have kids so shut up about all this

Wife 1 - have yall seen the kids?

Pt 2

Wife 2 - - they went with your parents for ice cream and to run around some park or something

Bro 1 - what?? this whole time we are worried about finding the kids and you know they aren’t even here

Wife 2 - - were you really that worried you haven’t even left this room

Bro 2 -- I wish I was surprised

Wife 2 - - me too

Wife 1 - what are yall talking about?

Wife 2 - - see not eavesdropping

Bro 2 -- ok ok

Bro 1 - we are talking about how as humans grow and evolve the most common ancestor can change over time, if their lineage, male or female are not fulfilled

Wife 1 - so, it’s not all our ancestor’s faults?

Bro 1 - exactly at some point the chain breaks and a new order becomes the way forward there’s no telling why that happens but why can’t it be us

Wife 1 -  I think it is you honey

Bro 1 - , I think it’s you

Bro 2 -- okay enough of that so we know the kids are okay and we know our lives our up to us and evolutionary biology might explain past actions, but they don’t excuse current behaviors, like lying to your husband

Wife 1 - so, what explains why my husband is going to break the chains and become a new Adam

Bro 2 -- well between the two of us I’m definitely more likely to become the new Adam and that’s because he’s a fatalist and I take the bull down bare handed and cup the balls

Wife 1 -  wouldn’t a fatalist be just as likely to be the new Adam as a ball grabber? And my husband could grab the bulls balls if he wanted too…

Bro 1 - thanks runt

Bro 2 -- fatalism does not allow for greatness like someone who understands we only have today, but we can still invest in tomorrow with our actions now, we have children to show them a better world, we hop-

Bro 1 - anyways fatalism isn’t even what I or we believe so who cares about your PMA mindset

Wife 1 - yes that’s not what I would say I believe in but I still think fatalism doesn’t limit greatness from its ideology, any ideology is an excuse to do as you please through an aesthetic lens that pleases you, any fatalist would accept the life that comes to them, whether that’s a revolutionary, a chef, a thief, or a beggar, fatalism allows the gamer to choose their player like any ideology

Bro 2 -- but it doesn’t encourage you to change your circumstances for the better, it doesn’t encourage for societal improvement

Wife 1 -  it encourages you to accept life as you take it...so if you are a butcher and the thieves gun jams you shouldn’t give him a chop as a fatalist? you should just accept life as it is and let him fix the jam repoint the gun and rob and kill you? no the fatalist would do what they could with the opportunity like anyone else

Bro 2 -- well what does it matter it’s not what you believe...so what do you believe, and you too for that matter?

Wife 1 -  I believe ideology is divine and mortal, an excuse to feel anguish and joy, absurd but maybe necessary in some abstract way for framing

Bro 1 - ideology for me is a distraction from living, ideology is just another word for worrying, fall way from your religious pedantry, rituals are as sinful as gluttony, come into the light free from literal frames and find the abstract frame floating in the abyss guiding your you, there’s nothing to hold onto there so breathe in then hold then out and move on to the material world around you

Bro 2 -- I like what she said better

Wife 2 - - why do you guys even like to think about this stuff

Wife 1 -  you basically are saying what we are saying but way cooler

Bro 2 -- don’t encourage her

[aristocratlegacy]

Chapter Sixty-Three: Our Fifteen Minutes

[Hey everybody! Sorry for the really long wait within chapters, and the sort of confusing order- this chapter was written and published AFTER the last one was. A lot of stuff happened [spoiler] [basically I Beatrice and Lorne died, and Lucky literally became a ghost, but then get famous came out and I was literally horrified that Beatrice had died before getting to be in a hollywood chapter so I made a fake family, revived her, and got famous. Anyway, sorry for any confusion, onto the chapter!!]

Dusty: “Gee, Lucky, I sure am worried about Taffy.”

Lucky: “I know! Ever since she got a crush on that Johnny guy, she’s been acting really different.”

Lucky: “I just wish she knew how cool she is when she’s being herself!”

Taffy: “Hi guys…”

Lucky: “Not too cool to play with us anymore?”

Taffy sighed.

Taffy: “I’m sorry I acted that way guys. Johnny...didn’t like me as much as I thought he did- I saw him kissing another girl after our beach date!”

They gasped.

Dusty: “Well, he’s stupid anyway.”

Lucky: “Yeah! And we like you just the way you are, Taffy!”

Taffy: “Aw, you guys are the best! I’m so happy that the Aristocrat family sticks together!”

The sound of canned applause starts as Beatrice walks into the room.

Beatrice: “That’s right, kids, stick together, that way you always have a wingman to make you look good in front of strangers. Oop, Lorne, sweetie, my simsmapol- oh, thank you dear”

She said as a new drink appeared right in her hand.

The kids laugh.

Beatrice: “Well, you look better, sweetheart. All that black makeup wasn’t doing anything for the bags under your eyes. Chin up!” She said, and sauntered away to the bar in the background.

Actual Lucky: “Aaaand...Cut!”

*one week earlier*

Lorne: “Breakfast! I made breakfast for everybody!”

The sound of groans and too many people for one house yawning sleepily down the stairs spreads out to the kitchen, where Lorne smiled and dished out the pancakes he made for everybody.

They all sat around the table, shoving elbows out of the way when they ate their food.

Lorne: “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Beatrice: “You know none of us really...work….right?”

Lucky: “Hey! Courtney and I work, we run our own business!”

Beatrice: “When was the last time you went to work.”

Lucky: “...”

Beatrice: “I’m not shaming you, sweetheart, I’m just stating a fact. Today, we are all going to lay in our respective beds, reading our respective magazines, and then take intermittent naps.”

Lucky: “And what would you rather do?”

Beatrice groaned.

Beatrice: “Anything- “ She held up a hand to preemptively silence her husband “But going to work.”

Courtney: “We could always volunteer as a family.”

Courtney was met with the iciest stare yet.

Courtney: “One day I’ll get you to do it.”

Beatrice: “But you’ve noticed it too, right, ever since this boring mr boring guy moved in, everything has been boring. I mean nothing fun has happened to us since my last awesome party.”

Lucky: “No. We are not throwing another party. It’s too much. Nobody ever shows up wearing the right thing and we have to stay there for days without sitting because nobody can stand still long enough to take pictures. Out of the question.

Beatrice: “Fun things used to just fall in our laps! The phone would ring and it would just be somebody telling us what awesome thing to do next!”

Lucky’s phone started to ring.

Beatrice: “Oh thank god I wasn’t sure it would work that time! I wish I had a fancy hat!”

Beatrice: “Oooh, this is fun, isn’t it?”

Patty Alexander: “Lucky, how have you been?”

Lucky: “Aunt Patty? It’s been good, how are you?”

Patty Alexander: “No time for chit-chat, Lucky. I recently found a VHS tape, I watched it out of curiosity, and it was the pilot that your Glammother made for a reality show. It had been recut by my father, but the show never got any traction at the agency. I work at the agency now, and I think we could come up with a project based on you legendary family, don’t you agree?”

Lucky: “Um...yes?”

Patty Alexander: “Great, come up with ten ideas by tomorrow I will call you at exactly 8 am to talk about it.”

Lucky: “8 am? Really?”

Patty Alexander: “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Day 1 of Production

Chloe: “I can’t wait to be famous, guys!”

Pierce: “I don’t really think this is going to take off, what about you, Vivi?”

Vivien: “If it doesn’t I’m going to drown in a sea of ennui. This is a chance to really let my creative prowess as an actress shine!”

Lucky: “Okay, everybody, say hello to the cast. Let’s just stay cool about this, it’s just a little sitcom. I think if we keep it light and fun we’ll all come out of this ahead- yeah?”

Lucky:Cherish will be playing my mom, Beatrice. My mother is not on set today, value this time, Cherish, it will be the last productive moment for you on this set.”

Lucky: “Darren, you are my dad, Lorne. All you have to do is smile, agree with anything my mom says, and constantly be churning out drinks from the bar in the background. Do not stop even for a moment, even if the bar is completely covered in undrunk Bridgeports, you keep going.”

Lucky: “Leslie is playing Glamma Astrid, uh...I dunno. Act ignored. Like you had a lot of potential and then no follow up. You’re Walt from Lost. I don’t have my step-grandpa in here, the casting fell through since I couldn’t find someone with as perfect a head of hair. Courtney- make a note to find a wig guy, and then find me a Roscoe.”

Lucky: “Tessa is playing my older sister Taffy. She’s smart, lovesick, and a snitch. I want a cross between Rory Gilmore and the sister from Phineas and Ferb.”

Lucky: "My niece will be playing Three, the alien girl that we found in the woods. She’s not here today- we’re gonna film her when I’’m supposed to take her to the library next week, nobody tell her dad.”

Lucky: “And, of course, these are my three children, Chloe, Pierce, and Vivien. Chloe will be playing me, you’re the main character, you’re brother is missing, shenanigans ensue. You love dogs and antagonising people, you know the drill.”

Chloe: “Yes!”

Vivien: “But I thought I would play you!”

Lucky: “Pierce you’re playing my brother Dusty. He’s kinda dorky, and then finds this alien girl in the woods and bonds with her. It’s cute.”

Pierce: “I think I can handle that.”

Lucky: “And lastly, Vivien, you will be playing my little brother Milo, who is kidnapped in the begining and then we find him later. Any questions?”

Vivien: “Wait- am I even in it?”

Lucky: “Um….yeah. Eventually. You’re gonna do great, cutie. Everybody read through the script and be ready to shoot the first scenes by tomorrow!”

Day 4 of Production

Luchloe: “Quick! Hide! Mom is coming this way!”

Fake Beatrice: “Hey cuties, gotta go do a video kiss kiss please subscribe!”

Fake Two: “She didn’t look up from her magic rectangle.”

Dusty Pierce: “Shh!”

Lucky: “Okay, I think she’s gone. Phew. For a second there I was really worried she would catch us and Strider and we’d have to take him back. Good boy!”

Dusty: “Also the alien girl we found in the woods, Lucky.”

Lucky: “Yeah, but that’s a person, mom is definitely not going to notice some random kid in our house if she doesn’t make a mess. This is a good puppy!”

Real Lucky: “Cut! Nice job, guys, let’s take 30 for lunch!”

Vivien: “Mother. I’m going to have to insist that you switch my role with Chloe’s. I have ten times the acting chops she does! Not to mention how much I work drama into every day life!”

Lucky: “Don’t worry, Vivien, nobody would ever forget about that.”

Chloe: “Hey, Vivi, wanna eat lunch?”

Vivien: “No! I’m running lines, trying to prove that I’m actually serious about the business to my mother. Chloe, I swear, you getting to play our mom in the sitcom that she’s making about her childhood is the finest example of nepotism I have ever seen in my life.”

Chloe: “Didn’t we all kinda get hired because of nepotism, though?”

Vivien: “Ugh! I’ll be in my trailer!”

Chloe: “No fair! Why does Vivien get a trailer!”

Lucky: “Oh, no, honey, she just went to pout inside the puppet theater.”

Courtney: “Hey, girls. I have the latest shots for you to look at, babe. Great take, Chloe, you’re a rockstar. Where’s your brother? Why are you rolling your eyes.”

Chloe: “Because he’s trying to talk to Tessa again.”

Lucky: “Oh, for god’s sake I told him….I’ll go handle it.”

Pierce: “So, you know, just because we play brother and sister on this show, doesn’t mean we can’t date in real life.”

Tessa: “Oh my god, I didn’t even see you there. Did you need something?”

Pierce: “Yeah...you’re heart- hey!”

Lucky: “Sorry, Tess. Won’t happen again! You did great today!”

Lucky: “Pierce, I told you to stop bothering the actresses.”

Pierce: “But we’re in love!”

Lucky: “No, you’re not. Keep dreamin, kid. She’s not into you. Okay, back on set in five, people!”

Cherish: “Hey, yeah, I feel like my character is just like...a super bad mom? Can we do something about that in the script?”

Lucky: “These are all based on true stories. You’ve met her. She was on set yesterday, is it really that surprising?”

Cherish: “No, I get it, but, like, that magazine just released that story about me being, like, a really bad mom. And I don’t want people to take it the wrong way, y’know?”

Lucky: “Um, use it in your performance. We have a schedule to stick to everybody! Two minutes!”

Day 6 of Production

Vivien: “Mom! I need to talk to you!”

Lucky: “Sweetie, I love you, but I don’t have time to talk about your part right now. Right now I need to keep your Glamma away from the actors.

Beatrice: “Why is she out of costume. Lucky, you’re the director, do something.”

Lucky: “Fine. Excuse me, Cherish? Yeah, my mom wants to know why you’re not wearing the costume.”

Cherish: “I think my character would wear this. I have a rockin’ bod, if I have to dress conservatively, I’m gonna do the bare minimum.”

Lucky: “You’ve really….taken to your character, haven’t you? Keep the dress, honestly, if I wasn’t constantly lowering her hemlines she’d have put that on already.”

Beatrice: “You’re the one that keeps adding fabric to the bottom of this dress? Lucky! It’s practically down to my knees!”

Lucky: “Good, you’re too old to be wearing clothes like that mom. Cherish- you look fine, Mom, you also  look fine in exactly what you’re wearing.”

Beatrice: “I could still pull it off! I’ll show you!”

Lucky: “I’m not looking forward to how that turns out. But maybe she’ll do it off set. Hopefully.”

Lorne: “No, you idiot, you don’t shake it like that, you shake it like this.”

Darren: “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

Lorne: “No, and, ugh, what are you wearing?”

Darren: “The costume notes just said to dress up like Willy Wonka’s brother that runs a flavored vodka factory.”

Lorne: “Gosh, y’know, Lucky is just the sweetest daughter, isn’t she? Keep it, it’s fine, but I expect you to keep up the color, alright? Navy blue. It’s a brand.”

Lucky: “Hey, you kids doing ok? Pierce, great job out there, looking silent and quiet and waiting for your turn to speak. Very Dusty, I love it.”

Vivien: “Mom- why can’t I play you? I’m not even in it and I have to play you’re kidnapped little brother? This stinks! I’m a ferrari, you don’t keep a ferrari in the garage and roll out a barbie jeep and a tricycle.”

Chloe: “We can hear you.”

Vivien: “I’m speaking from the heart of an actress, Chloe, you wouldn’t understand.”

Chloe: “We’re all child actors, dude, chill out.”

Lucky: “I’m afraid I’m going to have to side with mini me, cutie. Chill out a little, Milo is a great part.”

Vivien: “Milo now would a great part.”

Lucky: “I really hope you have no idea what you’re saying, keep reading through your lines, I’m gonna watch the last runthrough. Love you!”

Pierce: “You know, if I was your boyfriend, I would never kiss another girl.”

Kelly: “Excuse me?”

Pierce: “I mean...I….bye….”

Pierce: “I couldn’t do it. I tried, but she’s too pretty. I was blinded by blonde.”

Chloe: “You know that she’s playing your sister, right?”

Pierce: “I know. She’s not my sister, though.”

Viviens: “You two are barbarians, I’m going to read lines.”

Chloe: “Nerd!”

Pierce: “Teacher’s pet!”

Chloe & Pierce: “Nice.”

Day 9 of Production

Lucky: “This is no good.”

Courtney: “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”

Lucky: “It’s not saying anything. We’re talking about self esteem here, this is real gritty stuff! We could change lives, Courtney.”

Courtney: “I mean, it’s a sitcom we made starring our own untalented children. I don’t think expectations are going to be that high.”

Lucky: “Courtney, Courtney, Courtney,”

Courtney: “Yes?”

Lucky: “Courtney, Courtney, Courtney, Courtney, Courtney,”

Courtney: “Please stop saying my name like that.”

Lucky: “We’re making art here, baby. Expectations are higher than they’ve ever been.”

Courtney: “Um…”

Lucky: “Let’s take it from the top, guys, and remember, the words are raw, and gritty. E M O T I O N A L, do you hear me people? She’s changing who she is for a man is that acceptable?!”

A non committal murmur of ‘no’ calls out from the cast.

Lucky: “Yeah. This is serious. TAKE IT FROM THE TOP!”

---

Chlucke: It’s okay, Taffy! We like you just the way you are!”

Lucky: “Cut!”

Chloe: “What’s wrong?”

Lucky: “Baby, you have to think about the stakes here, your sister is heartbroken, she’s lost her whole identity, she’s on the verge of collapse, you need to feel this.”

Actual Taffy: “I thought it was fine. I mean, it was just a crush. I wore that dress with the storm clouds on it for a couple of days but-”

Lucky: “Taffy,”

Courtney: “Oh no.”

Lucky: “Taffy, taffy, taffy, taffy.”

Taffy: “Yes?”

Lucky: “I remember this. I saw the pain in your eyes. Johnny was the love of your life, and he threw you away like garbage.”

Taffy: “He still works at the movie theater so I think it’s fine. I’m married and happy. I have two kids that you didn’t cast in you’re show- thanks for that, by the way. What’s gotten into you, Lucky?”

Vivien: “I can do it mom! I can deliver the line with vivacity.”

Chloe: “She’s been waiting to use that one.”

Vivien: “You! Taffy! Don’t lose yourself in the sea of the unwashed masses! You shall rise above them! Walk among the stars as the women you are and will become!”

Pierce: “Yeah...that…”

Lucky: “That’s pretty good. Lucky, do that.”

Vivien: “But it was my monologue!”

Lucky: “I know, but it wouldn’t make sense coming from you, you’re still kidnapped.”

Vivien: “No fair!”

Lucky: “Honey, you’re not in this shot.

Day 11 of Production

Chloe: “Pierce, I do not want to go back in there.”

Pierce: “Me neither. Maybe if we just hide in here she’ll just recast us and let us go home.”

Chloe: “Is she being crazy? It seems like she’s literally gone crazy.”

Lucky: “Where are the children!? I need them! For my art!”

Chloe: “Oh no. She’s gonna make us do the heart to heart scene again, I know it.”

Lucky: “Vivien, where’s your brother and sister? You’re on today.”

Vivien: “I am?! Really?”

Vivien: “CHLOE! PIERCE! You’d better get out here now or I will cyberbully you forever!”

Chloe: “She’s gonna find us eventually.”

Pierce: “Maybe if we stay here, mom will let her play our roles.”

Vivien: “Found them! Saboteurs!”

---

Luchloe: “I sure am glad you’re home, Milo! I can’t believe we found you!”

Milovien: “Happy that I’m home?! Is that all you have to say? Since you’ve abandoned me to the wills of a madman in an underground bunker? I may be shy,”

Milo: “I may be talented in a quiet way- but that does not mean that I do not have something to say! Hear me, brother and sister! For I don’t know if I can forgive your indifference in my heart, and I know for sure, that I will never forget it. But ho-”

Lucky: “Cut!”

Vivien: “What’d you think, mom?”

Chloe: “Here we go.”

Lucky: “It….was…..exhillerating. We’re gonna win an oscar for this, guys.”

Chloe: “I don’t think they give out oscars for single-camera sitcoms, Mom.”

Lucky: “Vivien, you and I will create art. Baby,  we’re going to hollywood!”

Day 15 of Production

I live for my art

I breathe for my art

I live for my art.

If I can just get the hug at the end right. I know.

I just know.

I can make a difference.

Day 22 of Production

Lucky: “From the top!”

Chloe: “Mom, there’s only so many times we can hug. We’ve been doing this for days.”

Vivien: “She said from the top, Chloe! We have to do this right!”

Chloe: “Why though? I just wanna go hoooome!”

Vivien: “Mother? Permission to slap an actress.”

Lucky: “What? No, Vivien. But you do have to take it from the top! Take two hundred and eighteen!”

Courtney: “You know, Luck, I think we’ve got it.”

Lucky: “We don’t have it.”

Courtney: “Maybe take a break and do some other scenes? Or let everybody go home? I’m sure that we got it and-”

Lucky: “Are you questioning my vision, Courtney?”

Courtney: “Um...no?”

Lucky: “Good. Because if you were questioning it, then I would have to fire you.”

Lucky: “I’d fire all of you if I could! I’ll star in the show myself! Me and Vivien- my only talented daughter, who isn’t afraid to commit to something!”

Vivien: “Yeah!”

Lucky: “So if all of you want to quit! Fine! Quit!’

Chloe: “Is that an option?”

Lucky: “Only if you think you can live with yourself, Chloe.”

Chloe: “I mean….yeah. I quit. Right guys?”

Pierce: “Yup.”

Everybody: “Yeah, bye”

Day 27 of Production

Courtney: “Hey...Lucky?”

Lucky: “What do you want, traitor?”

Courtney: “Well, you’ve been sitting here at an editing table in the middle of an empty warehouse set in the dark for 5 days.”

Lucky: “The show is due in 2 days, and since everybody abandoned me, I had to to do it myself.”

Courtney: “Nobody abandoned you, Lucky. You just got a little crazy. Plus, we did film all the scenes from the original script. The only ones we didn’t do are those really rambly meta ones you added later. I think if you stick with what we thought of at first, then you’d see that we made something pretty cool.”

Lucky: “I don’t know if I can do it- cut apart my vision…….”

Courtney: “Do you want my help?”

Lucky: “..........Yes please.”

Premiere Day

Chloe: “This is so exciting!”

Vivien: “We’re gonna be on tv!”

Courtney: “Lucky, you gonna join us?”

Lucky: “Oh… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I know I ruined everybodys tv experience by getting too in my head about it. I was in an art spiral, there’s no excuse. I’ll just go watch it upstairs by myself so I don’t bother anybody…”

Chloe: “Mom! Come watch with us!”

Pierce: “Yeah, we’re not mad.”

Vivien: “You had a celebrity meltdown. Very chic.”

Beatrice: “I’m with Vivien- an epic meltdown is a very Beatrice move. I’m proud of you!”

Lucky: “So...we’re all a happy family again?”

Courtney: “A big happy family that’s about to watch itself on tv for the first time! C’mon, it’s starting!”

-----

That’s all for now! Thanks for reading and don’t forget to drop a comment if you liked it!!!!!! Also thank you so much to boolprop for making us January’s story of the month that was awesome!

[doublenegation]

Too Early

Being too early in a night club feels like dying young. You can see the whole thing stretching ahead of you, all the things yet undone sort of fading in a distance you will never reach.

Only young men seem to go early, stuck somewhere between the cloak room and the toilet, struggling for what was it again? The night is still young. Too young, like it will go on forever until suddenly it no longer does, and here you are -- stuck waiting for something, anything to happen.

There's a faux arcade machine in the corner, lonely and not exactly retro -- I might be the only person in the room who knows what it fails to properly reference, 90s rave aesthetic weirdly displaced by an 80s that never was, begging for change, any change, loose change, admonishing responsible drinking while sporting that accursed deer mascot, rendered unlovingly in a wireframe aesthetic that never was, unartfully ripping off that drag-and-release mechanic killed by ludic literacy and a terrible tendency towards complexity but lacking any understanding of what it's for.

Very videogame. Like a real videogame (made by love, with love), it doesn't know what it is except perfunctory and limited, potential delimited by a marketing budget and ... zero ambition? It feels unfair to judge, I'm sure the good kids at Chloroplast Games with their weak blob logo would have preferred to excel, to push a boundary or two.

But here it is, in a corner, across from the bar, most likely unseen by anyone but those who miss the bathroom queue, make a right too early, find themselves in an alcove populated only by that herbal alcohol mascot and their own misunderstanding.

I suppose part of my ennui stems from going to a rock'n'roll club an hour too early. I should have learned by now -- the party is at least half an hour away, maybe an hour even! And rock? Do I even listen to rock unironically? Am I in a position to judge this scene as anything but maybe something I missed out on ten years ago?

Hard to tell, I suppose I ended up here because the other place was shut and this seemed to have, well, open doors and some people. Maybe it was the girl who briefly held my gaze before her boyfriend arrived and pulled her back to reality?

She might have preemptively lied to me, suggested an impossible connection or at least given my half-drunk mind the illusion of one, her gaze a reminder of what I need but don't know how to get in this strange city with its strange people and strange ways.

I mean, this is just playacting anyway -- I'm not really out tonight, I'm just investing in a potential future, seeing what's up, how it's hanging, so I'll get to sleep okay tonight and not lie awake staring at the ceiling waiting for sweet nothing to embrace me so another day can promise me things it can't keep.

There's supposed to be a dance floor, but it's empty. I paid to access this emptiness -- a pittance to be sure, but it still obligates me to try, I guess, to pretend like I'm out and about; seeing town when I'm really just waiting for tomorrow, the real deal, a potentially chance date with a hairdresser who thinks it's funny she can't pronounce my name.

It's nearly as expensive too. A quarter hour of work to spend what, a couple of hours in this cellar with its post-rock and empty dance floor and cockroach I just stepped on because my peripheral vision is way acute and I can't help myself.

Tomorrow is the real deal, the real illusion, the current fantasy, the affirmation that I'm doing something other than typing out future blog posts on my phone in this cellar on this park bench as far as I can get from that Jägermeister fauxcade game only I can put in its proper cultural context.

We're 30 minutes into the cellar life and there is still hardly anyone here, meaning my initial assumption is wrong -- there's no life after midnight. It happens at some witching hour yet to pass, one I might not even get to see before I decide I've had enough and go home to find that sweet bedtime I've lied about wanting to avoid, like I've lied to myself about the severe blonde at the bar looking at me, like I've lied to myself about maybe being in the mood for rock'n'roll.

Turns out my gut feeling is true -- rock'n'roll is a state of mind divorced from the presence of that cultural touchstone rock'n'roll. If I like rock'n'roll, it's because I like that confidence and that swagger and that noise and not because I strictly enjoy real guitars and real drums.

The other people literally just left, which lends me courage to stay just a little longer to see what they will miss, if anything. I like the idea of exclusively witnessing potential lost to others. It's my inner hipster god justifying itself -- to boldly go where no man thinks there's any fun to be had, to hope that the DJ is not as lonely as me, on this early November night in a city I don't know.

Hey, worst case I have produced my most spontaneous piece of prose in whoa, a long time, wrapped in my language, a critical language, one that is knowing and distant in lieu of knowledge and distance, wrought under the very limited auspices of autocorrect. And it only cost me a fraction of the expensive alcohol I bought as soon as my invoice was reimbursed this very afternoon, the sweet Mammon I've waited for all week, months worth of rent and -- well, this.

I might be too advanced for this chance experience. I might need something less haphazard, something I know I want instead of something I maybe think I need. Healthy, though -- I have chosen to be disappointed in an effort to discover myself.

The DJ is doing good. Maybe because it's empty. He's wringing out some noise I haven't heard before, like he's loving it despite being unheard -- maybe because he's unheard by anyone but me here on my park bench that doesn't belong here in this place I don't know.

Once upon a time I would have paid for two people to nearly enjoy this emptiness but now I only spent what, one percent of my monthly fun-budget having this epiphany, this realisation that you can't win 'em all but you can reflect very, very eloquently on that belated epiphany, that sudden realisation that your princess is in another castle.

A couple just stumbled into the cellar. They are ... well, nearly gone again. They are not sitting down to write essays and reflect upon the empty dance floor. They went towards the toilets (or maybe the fauxcade machine, my view from here is limited) and then vanished.

No, this is just a trial run, a ... premature anti-climax, a preemptive disappointment before tomorrow's big whatever, the real club night where maybe I'll find my hairdresser in the crowd and we will kiss desperately because we're no longer young and want some beauty while we can still offer some of our own.

I will be on drugs and I will listen to music more suited to my state of mind, to my ironic distance, nothing as forceful as rock or whatever this undead amalgam should be called. I will lose myself even if it's not to her.

The couple found the benches too. I suppose that is the death-knell, the final proof that I am not an outsider here as I touchscreen-type this little screed. I am just ahead of my time, settling into the non-event I could see not unfolding before me even hours ago, even before I left my new home to find something new, something I'm not bored by or angry at yet.

They are smiling and laughing. They have, like me, paid to be here and like me they are making the most of their bad investment, listening to the really quite great music and trying to ignore the fact no-one else is.

Entrance came with a free drink. I should go to the bathroom then claim it and have a cigarette. Maybe I will emerge to find the dance floor filled. Or maybe I will sow the seeds of that throat cancer I so desperately hope won't eat my voice before I get famous.

Either way, the new me is yielding something, rock'n'roller or not. This is something. This would not have happened just a week ago, and the price is very, very low compared to the cost of all those empty moments I have wasted these last few years.

Love is a lonely thing, and the more time I spend alone the more I come to understand, accept and -- yes -- kind of relish in it. The couple are talking over the loud music and I am typing this on the world's worst typewriter as I bury my rock'n'roll persona and head past the advergame, past the empty dance floor, towards the toilets so I can emerge and provoke that cancer I hope will pass me by and grab someone else by the throat so I can live forever.

Hey, unlike the DJ, I am free to leave. And in the grand scheme of things, I am paid more for my time here than he is.

On my way out, I stop for that smoke. A cute Italian girl asks me whether there’s anyone dancing downstairs. I let her know it’s dead. She’s disappointed, since she wants something -- anything -- but reggaeton. I argue in favour of reggaeton, my contrarian streak flaring up like a shooting star, and she thinks I’m funny.

I leave, and I get all the way home (which is only a ten minute walk, granted) before I realize I am drunk and I am not sleepy, and I decide fuck it, I might as well stay out. I head back.

She’s not there anymore. I convince myself this was just a trial run. Tomorrow is hairdresser day, and I need to be awake, alert and in a party mood for that. I am only half-convinced, but really -- I don’t have much else to believe in. So I live and I learn. And I won’t go out too early again. Except maybe tomorrow because I wanna be there before the place fills up so I can spot her or she can spot me and I can say hi, I’m here, just like I said I would be, and she will smile and it will be like tonight never happened.

[sylsabastian]

The Tools of Change Part 37 - Worrying About Worrying

W: - Just tryna recover. EXHAUSTED from work.

Syl: - Bah on the exhausted.

W: - My desk buddy's been there all day for two days now, my crazy boss. No bad behavior. But an exhausting presence.

Syl: - Yes, they are energy vampires.

Spend that worrying energy instead on Solutions. On possible strategies, options, resources, pre-planning and preparation. Then all that worry energy gets diverted into Usefulness. And after doing enough of those positive preemptive activities, it will be impossible to worry.

W: - That thing... turned out to be nothing.

Syl: - YOU SEE!!!!!!! Now I remember all the worthless and wasteful worrying you did about that thing and how this eventuality that has now come to pass, at one time you thought to be unlikely or impossible. :) :D :D And was that worrying at the time worth it?

W: - The uncertain news: I was warned that there is a "fee block" associated with this issue. And that I might not be able to get go further unless it's resolved. I don't have tens of thousands to pay if somehow left a big sum unpaid :(

Syl: - Ah. Well, only thing is to wait and see. And why does it Have to be tens of thousands? You have no idea how much. It may be a trivial amount. See what I mean, you default to worst case. Why?

W: - Cos I feel so threatened. I don't feel in control because it's not me who decides. Trying not to feel desperate.

Syl: - Persistence & Determination when combined with Patience, resolves ANY problem.

W: - Ya..... It will probably be okay. I will phone the fees office tomorrow.

Syl: - Just think of the worrying in terms of productive energy usage. Is it a worthwhile spend of your energy? Is the worry going to actually achieve anything? How is the worry helping? (Not helping??) Why exactly are you worrying? What's in it for you?

W: - Dunno.

Syl: - Exactly!!!!!

W: - Fear that if I don't, I could miss something I could've done, and make it worse.

Syl: - Lol. So Fear of the unknown basically. Why doesn't that fall under thoroughness, and preparation and impeccability and scrupulousness and such like? Why make it a negative experience? If you do the same, but from an Impeccability Perspective, won't you feel good about yourself?

W: - Is that allowed? Lolwut.

Syl: - Sht yeah. Why not Enjoy being Ethical and Sensible and Good? Why not Enjoy all those Positive qualities? Hell, it's inherent in just Being Positive in general.

"Positivity is the Choice to enjoy everything!!!!!"

W: - I guess. Need to get my energy back. Too drained.

Syl: - "I enjoy because it is right, for me." - Mantra of the New Nobility.

W: - I feel bad about my self, like it's my fault I'm drained.

Syl: - ENJOY being Sensible!!!! :) :D <3

There you go. Exactly what you want to avoid. A self-fulfilling self-draining feedback loop. Now you know exactly what causes it. So just change, and when it comes to worry, the change is actually a small thing, more of a shift, a tweak, than a change. Do the exact same things, but just do them from a Positive, Purposeful and Meaningful Perspective. That's all you need to change, your Perspective on what you are doing. Same things, different Perspective, different effect on you. If you do the things for GOOD and sensible reasons, then you are fulfilled instead of drained. Yes?

Take pride in your Sensibility and your Thoroughness, in your Diligence, in your Persistence etc.

W: - I will try. Points for trying. Lol. :)

Syl: - Lol, all the worry, or, senseless self-negativity, is just mind-fcking. What's the pay-off for worry? Just cover-my-arse really. Understand exactly why you worry, and it goes away.

"Worry is Bullsh!t!!"

W: - I think it gives one permission to think about unpleasant topics. So as to prepare and check nothing is omitted. Otherwise, one doesn't want to come home and think about work! Or the next day! Worry forces one to do that. Maybe I could make a new habit. A habit of thinking about the next work day, to prepare. Until I no longer feel the need to think about it that day.

Syl: - The BS pre-justification goes like this: If I worry, and then I don't do all I know I can do; If I worry and then I am not impeccable and scrupulous in my activities, and whatever doesn't work out, fails, flops, or otherwise goes bad, then I have a ready excuse. I can then say: "See, I told you it wouldn't work out!!" And now I am off the hook. "It didn't work out! Not my fault!!"

BULLSH!T

W: - Agree.

Syl: - So it's about the pre-excuse for most really.

W: - Maybe there's an app for that.

Syl: - LOL :D

Make pre-thinking into something fun. Like enjoy thinking through potential strategies, enjoy running alternate scenarios, enjoy being impeccable, enjoy being prepared.

But....here's the thing.... It's still all bullsh!t. Why?

Syl: Because the entire logic behind worry is that somehow you NEED to worry or do something. Why?

Let's say you come home from work and scurry to get ready to go out, say like to a concert or something. You leave as soon as you can, go out, have a blast and come home, deliciously tired from all the fun. You flop into bed and sleep away, no worries. What happens the next day at work?

Same stuff as any other day.

So, it's the Idea that somehow you need to be doing something for work the next day. NO!!! Work will contain the unexpected and the unforeseen and that's just the way it is. Nothing really to do about it, or prepare. The only preparation you can make is simply Confidence and Trust in yourself that you WILL handle it, whatever it turns out to be. That is the underlying issue. Confidence and Self-Trust.

"Worry is a self-cancer that eats away constantly at Confidence and Self-Trust."

"Worry is Square-Circle-Logic. Worry causes the very thing it is trying to prevent!!!"

Worry never helps. All it does is add negativity and unpleasantness. Worry drains energy. Worry is just short-sighted fear. And ofc it is self-fulfilling. If you ever learned anything from ___, learn the futility of worry. How did it help them except to make their life negative and miserable? And how many of those worries were self-fulfilling?

If you are going to be afraid of something, then Use that fear productively: Be fearful of Worrying! Be fearful that your worrying Causes the very things you worry about!

I can point to countless examples how this applies to you in your work. Like just think of your crazy boss and how they are programmed. How do they respond to worriers and how do they respond to relaxed confident and self-comfortable people?

W: - Well there is the unexpected, but there are definitely things that need to be remembered. That could cause sht if forgotten. That's why prepare. You call it Anticipation. I already feel lighter, having given myself permission to prepare for the next work day. My energy's returning.

Syl: - In the end it's just mindless habit. And THAT should scare you into changing it. You just think you "Should" worry. Lol and bah, don't be ___!!! That should scare you out of worrying. Use that innate determination NOT to be them to thwart the worrying!!!!

W: - Agree that I can prepare positively, and enjoy it maybe even, instead of worry.

Syl: - Yeah! I am all for preparation, pre-planning, extrapolation, strategising, Anticipating, and otherwise preparing and improving oneself for what is to come. And the unexpected and unforeseen is exactly a part of that. And if it is stuff like remembering, that is simple to deal with. Simply make a list, get it done, and move on. Adding to the list as things pop up and come to mind etc. But, the difference is that all of those are Positive activities, and thus we enjoy doing them. They build Confidence and Self-Trust. They ADD to us, not detract. And above all, they are productive usage of our energies. Worry is a very very poor, crap, and unproductive use of energy.

"It all begins with Energy-Management."

Just be determined to be Positive and be determined not to worry and fall into that mind and energy sinkhole.

W: - Just Prepared my tomorrow's work lunch. Read a tip that suggested that'd give me more time in the mornings.

Syl: - There ya go. So Simple... :) :D :P

W: - Re remembering, I have a basic task list. More than that written down would defeat the aim. It's more remembering nuances to do with the tasks. Like ways to handle the people in the situation. Or things they said which pertain. Little details that matter.

Syl: - Ah cool!!! That is most excellent. Yes, we remember better when we remember the abstract connections. Those starting points that allow us to Work Out the solutions. Also, if one does a kind of role-playing, like one is preparing for an acting role, and going over all the various ways the part could be played, that is fantastic preparation. Because really, it is preparing to be Flexible, Adaptive, Fluid, and thus ofc, preparing to be Appropriate. Preparing to be ABLE to be Appropriate.

And thus we come back to Confidence and Self-Trust. :) :D <3

W: - Meaning in Work for me...

How does my work help others?

1. Today I helped a manager to get his expense and travel claims paid back to him quickly. That will help his cash flow, since it was 2,000.

2. Today I helped a manager gain control of her work, by strategically timing the information I sent her. I sent only a few emails, which were time-sensitive or enhanced her relationships in the business.

3. Today I helped a consultant keep her client happy and fulfil promises to them, by offering to arrange payment of their monthly sponsorship, now that her team temp has left. She was delighted and relieved."

I feel better realising THIS is what matters about today.

Syl: - Cool! :) <3 That's excellent. Adding Meaning and Purpose to your activities. Most most excellent! Changes everything. :) <3

Syl: AND....

W: - Agree re mental rehearsal/role playing.

Syl: - As long as that is your focus and Intent, you will Always be doing that, always be adding Value and Goodness. So what's to worry about? <3

W: - Yep, I no longer feel worried. Not even about that thing. <3

Syl: - You ARE a Good Person. You ARE a caring person. You DO try and make things good and add value and help and be good. You ARE that. So just accept it and enjoy being good!!! Wherever does it make sense Not to enjoy being good???

W: - Haha. True.

Syl: - And YAY!!! Yeah, worry is a non-thing really.

W: - I see what the mechanism wanted. Now I have given it a better outlet.

Syl: - Much better real things to replace it with. There ya go! Simple Adaptive Appropriateness. :) :D <3

W: - Even though I prepare my tasks for the next day/s, as I go along, and review them before I leave work, there are aspects of the day past, and the day ahead, that I simply don't feel able to contemplate AT work. And driving home is dangerous and requires hyper-vigilance, which I'm comfortable doing.

So... at home is the best time to - briefly! - mull over things. In safety and peace. I just will do that in a positive and purposeful way now.

And making it a Habit will help keep it positive, so I don't have to try recall this conversation. I'll just automate the routine.

Syl: - Yeah, one cannot prepare for every detail. But one can prepare by realising that one has the capability to be adaptive and figure out on the spot. So, use the day's unforeseen happenings and go over how you adapted and dealt with them.

After a while you'll come to see and realise and Know inside that you can deal with and handle what comes your way, no problem. And thus your preparations will result in Confidence and Self-Trust and thus you'll need less and less preparation. After a while you'll know that you can handle whatever might come. You've been doing your job well for a long time after all. You have been you being you even longer. It's just time to Appreciate you and your qualities and abilities more. And not cancel them out with stupid worry!!!! W: - Good idea re reviewing how I dealt with the unforeseen. Syl: Making some time for reflection and thus for gaining Perspective, especially Overview Perspective of the days happenings, is most most valuable.A life-long habit for me. W: - Yes! Perspective. Exactly! www.SylSabastian.Blogspot.com (Subscribe for full posts with pics via email.) https://www.facebook.com/syl.sabastian (For Comments)