#i do always have thoughts about them. anyway. it's nice casey likes the old man's dumb car racing

[batsplat]

sometimes casey throws a like on posts about valentino's wins on four wheels, got me wondering how he really feels about vale's retirement life. back in the twilight of vale's career, casey was kinda sad seeing vale content with just hitting top five. but end of last year, he said he's happy for vale's new life vibe. (https://www.tumblr.com/kwisatzworld/735598710184165376/casey-stoner-talks-about-valentino-rossi-in-an)

but man, they're like poles... casey's rebuilding his storm-hit home on the gold coast, swinging golf clubs. meanwhile, valentino's still going full throttle—aside from a vacay in ibiza, dude's been all over the map this year with car races, bike races, tests, and coaching at his academy.

I'm gonna be honest, I have zero awareness of what any of these men do on social media... don't really keep up with them post-retirement in general unless they're literally at the races, giving interviews about their careers and whatnot. so whenever someone on here mentions something like this it's very... I didn't know that but it sure is interesting!! very sweet of casey lol (also link to the gifs)

though, quick note, I wouldn't say valentino was content back in the day with just being in the top five (or lower) - it's just the idea of stopping for a long time felt worse than carrying on. from that same giornale interview, -

And what is it like to live with the idea of ​​leaving? "It's difficult to accept. I didn't give up until the end. But you understand that at forty you no longer have those homicidal instincts that you had when you were twenty-five. But it was hard. At a certain point in my career, about ten years ago, I asked myself: do I stop when I'm on the crest of a wave and retire as a world champion, or do I race until I can't stand it anymore?" Answer? "I race until I can't stand it anymore. And so I did."

it's something he had to decide for himself... of course, both marc and casey have said something along the lines of how they could never have done that themselves, how for them it's only worth it if they're winning. and, y'know, there is something about that for valentino... for all that obviously he is obsessed with winning and desperately wants to do so... he really doesn't just thrive in a fight - he needs it. and it's so interesting, in a way, when you think about just how early in his career he was flirting with the idea of walking away... and then think about how long he ended up sticking around. sure, he was always pretty clear that he would have just done something else racing-related like f1 rather than retire, but still! and in a way, it's probably the fact that he started losing that made him so determined to stick around... the malaise was at its strongest whenever he was winning, or rather, winning too easily... a motogp without valentino might have made it likelier that casey would stick around for longer, whereas a motogp with casey made it less likely that valentino would leave

but yes, casey did say motogp would be better with valentino close to the top:

casey's opinions on what counts as 'good racing' are a whole other thing I'm not going to get into right now, but, I don't know! it's fun! it's fun that casey looked at the 2013-18 period and then what came after that and went 'yeah it'd be better if valentino were involved in this'! "battling it out with these guys" - not even casey stoner is immune to the good old fashioned joys of watching valentino getting himself involved in a dogfight! very compelling of him. I don't think it's just lip service either, not least since it's not like casey is massively inclined to shoot random compliments in valentino's direction (yes, even during valentino's swansong casey did have some rather less friendly hot takes he needed to get off his chest). and... y'know, before the feud really got going casey did talk about how much he'd enjoyed watching valentino, went out with his mates to observe valentino in all his sessions and all that... given you're generally not watching valentino oohing and aahing about him hooking together a quali lap, he must have also enjoyed watching valentino race! happens to the best of us I fear

a persistent problem for a lot of valentino's rivals is how closely associated valentino has become with the very idea of motogp, which, y'know, is the thing they've dedicated their entire lives to. now, for casey this is particularly gnarly and complicated and painful because he has a severely strained relationship with the whole sport, in some ways that come back to valentino and in some ways that go beyond him. and post-retirement, it's not like casey has completely eschewed that active connection to the sport - he was a test rider, he wanted to race again in 2015 as a replacement for dani, he's worked as a rider coach. so again *wiggles hand* complicated. fundamentally though, yes, two very different outlooks. valentino was desperate to race in motogp until he couldn't any more. whereas casey? he's not even missed the racing itself:

can you imagine something more foreign to valentino than this... who loves nothing more than the thrill of the hunt, of the chase, of the kill... that is not a man who was showing up every weekend for the qualifying sessions. it's a way in which they could not be more different - and of course that's further reflected in what they've chosen to do with their time since retirement. valentino is so eternally restless, casey needed to ground himself again. valentino will not stop racing for as long as is physically possible, whereas casey is spending his days fishing... or swinging golf clubs apparently. wait a minute, you say his house was destroyed? by a tornado? ah

anyhow, that's the bit I love about them (not the tornado bit)... how they're both extremely similar and extremely different at the same time - that's the kind of tension through which the narrative juices flow... they're similar in ways you kind of have to be if you want to be very good at a sport, and very good in that sport specifically. in their commitment, their will, their passion for what they do. their competitive instincts, their need to win. how interested they are in preserving the 'soul' of their sport, how they were both firmly on the anti-electronics train for years and years... valentino being told about casey's comments in 2013 pressers and being like 'yeah I'm with him on this'... casey saying in 2018 that valentino is, and I quote, "like me: if it weren't for all these electronics that manage the bike, if the power was controlled only by the rider's right wrist, rossi would still be number one on the track". by the way, and this has absolutely zero relevance to this post, I do need to bring up this comment from the same interview because it makes me laugh:

so real, casey. I wanted drama too. anyway, that comment casey made about the 'stunning blood red' ducati being contaminated by luminous yellow or whatever - obviously in context it was anti-valentino, but it was also revealing that this is even something he cares about because he loves this sport... he wants it to remain true to itself... he regrets not having had the chance to ride the 500cc bikes that valentino was the last guy to be able to win a title on, which obviously valentino is also insanely proud of. there's little things that stand out when you cross-read their autobiographies - like for instance the deep preoccupation with the 'bike or rider' question, partly because they'd both been accused of owing their achievements to something else other than their actual ability (and of course, because they're funny like that, they do both absolutely do this to each other) (also to some extent literally every champion gets put through this, they sure do have a lot of opinions about it though). their thoughts on the importance of being honest to yourself and being honest about what you owe your success to... about not deluding yourself, of not blaming the bike when you are the one to make an error... there's plenty of interesting overlap in what they write y'know

they are both incredibly capable of holding grudges, they are both petty to a fault and will remember any offence you committed even if it was about seven years ago (genuinely casey might be even worse on this metric). and they use this to motivate themselves... they are both so so determined to prove people wrong. if they think you've wronged them, they openly admit that they use that as fuel to spur themselves on. it's the power of spite - yamaha rejected casey so he wanted to show them, nobody thought valentino could make the yamaha switch work so he wanted to rub it in honda's faces. they love to get even. they can be quite suspicious of others to the point of paranoia; there's a world in which they combine their powers to be extremely accomplished conspiracy theorists. they both have a temper - it's easier to get casey angry, but valentino is downright vicious when effectively provoked. plus, and this bit cannot be stressed enough, they are both insane. different flavours of insane, but, still, insane. if you spend enough time thinking about laguna 2008, this kind of becomes one of the key takeaways - because, okay, valentino's riding was. eh. but casey's riding? also very! eh! valentino started it but casey joined in! casey always talked about how much that race changed for him, how it taught him to be more selfish, to just race for himself... and even if it made him feel bad, the thing about casey is that he was willing to do that

but at the same time, of course they're both very different, in all the deeply obvious ways. their respective relationships to publicity, to media, to fame - valentino does struggle with it, does hate it a lot of the time, but at the end of the day he still shines in the spotlight and is an incredibly effective communicator. he's willing to play the game a lot more than casey is... although casey can play it too, if in a different way, when valentino forces him into it. casey's still willing to play it now, which is why you hear him constantly offering his commentary on that rivalry - he's selling a story, a narrative that he may genuinely believe in but that also is of course supposed to flatter him. at the end of the day, however, casey doesn't quite get why all of this has to be such a big part of the sport, why it's necessary to even have anything apart from the racing... whereas valentino has always understood why all the other stuff exists and why it's worth engaging with the public-facing side of the sport, even when he hasn't liked it

valentino loves the sport in its entirety, immediately embraced the entire circus of the paddock and found it endlessly exciting and exhilarating from the very first moment, whereas casey has often wished he could escape all parts of the sport that aren't the racing itself. valentino is someone who has spoken at length about the bonds of friendship with his team and how important they are to him, whereas casey is a man who has said his only friend in the paddock is his wife. the very strong but different connections they both have to their place of origin, and how meaningful those are to both of them, how important it is to their sense of identity... somewhere they'll always come back to. and of course there's a ruthlessness to valentino that is mostly alien to casey, if not entirely. valentino relishes the battle, whereas casey would prefer to avoid it. there are things valentino is ready to do, lines he's ready to cross, where casey doesn't even understand why you would do any of that. valentino loves having... if not an enemy, then certainly a target - and while casey is hardly a stranger to the motivating power of spite, he is more or less happy to complete his track times on an empty bit of asphalt. relatedly, he also wishes to believe that he is completely immune to any kind of psychological tactics... and sometimes he's more right than he's given credit for and sometimes he's wrong. casey is a lot more preoccupied with this rivalry than valentino is - and of course it has a far more defining role within his career than vice versa. casey walked away so much sooner than valentino did because he had grown estranged from the sport he had so loved. whereas valentino never stopped loving it, even when it hurt him, even when it could have killed him... and he never will stop loving it

this post is going to take a bit of a left field turn, sorry. but there's just something about. idk. athletes trapped in a rivalry that's so intense and so meaningful for at least one half, but that's also so about the kind of... gulf between them, the mutual lack of comprehension, where it feels like the divide is so big it might be unbridgeable... anyway, it always makes me think of a specific bit of andre agassi's autobiography where he talks about his rivalry with pete sampras. so here:

Walking up to the gate, who should I see but Pete. As always, Pete. He looks as if he's done nothing for the last month but practise, and when he wasn't practising, he was lying on a cot in a bare cell, thinking about beating me. He's rested, focused, wholly undistracted. I've always thought the differences between Pete and me were overblown by sportswriters. It seemed too convenient, too important for fans, and Nike, and the game, that Pete and I be polar opposites, the Yankees and Red Sox of tennis. The game's best server versus its best returner. The diffident Californian versus the brash Las Vegan. It all seemed like horseshit. Or, to use Pete's favorite word, nonsense. But at this moment, making small talk at the gate, the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad. I've often told Brad that tennis plays too big a part in Pete's life, and not a big enough part in mine, but Pete seems to have the proportions about right. Tennis is his job, and he does it with brio and dedication, while all my talk of maintaining a life outside tennis seems like just that - talk. Just a pretty way of rationalizing all my distractions. For the first time since I've known him - including the times he's beaten my brains out - I envy Pete's dullness. I wish I could emulate his spectacular lack of inspiration, and his peculiar lack of need for inspiration.

obviously the specific details of the rivalry are very different, and the two rivalries don't map neatly onto each other at all. but I don't know, it's always felt a good way of summing up that! disconnect!! the whole world might want you to be distinct from your rival for narrative purposes and you're aware of how artificial the whole thing is... but sometimes it can still be true... casey's always talking about how he never got obsessed with his rivals, how he always treated them all the same, how it was all just externally imposed onto him... which, okay, we could perhaps question the supposed lack of obsession, but it still comes back to how you don't want it to just be about you and that other guy. always you and them, them and you - and maybe you can't actually escape it because it's the truth... it's your legacy, it's fundamentally interwoven into the fabric of your career, it's why you will never truly free yourself from that narrative. "the gap between us appears genuinely, frighteningly wide, like the gap between good and bad"... you're bound together in your shared passion for this sport, but your biggest rival is also somebody who you feel like you'll never truly understand

casey may feel alienated from valentino and in doing so feel alienated from the very sport itself. whereas for valentino, casey was just what he needed. having casey was something motivating, something exciting for valentino - however annoying he found that man, he always needs something to inspire him and for a while there that something was casey. it's a rivalry that wore away at casey while at the same time it lit a fire within valentino... the 'cordial' mutual hatred they exhibited towards each other, wrapped up in this sense of mutual estrangement, it weighed more heavily on one of them than it did on the other... all these similarities between the two characters that exist alongside the violence of the contrast between them. that underlying and inescapable sense of alienation. on some level, they were always perfectly clear on who the other man was when they were fighting each other - and tailored their approach to the rivalry accordingly. but knowing doesn't quite equal empathy, it's not the same as understanding, and the distance between the pair of them inevitably remained. hey, maybe a dinner will fix it, maybe casey can explain where he was coming from to valentino and get the chance to interrogate valentino on the same. because that's what casey's expressing there, right, when he's talking about telling valentino his 'challenges' from his 'point of view'... it's not even as much about understanding as much as it is about being understood. it's about getting valentino to comprehend casey's side of things. maybe even getting valentino to care. of course, more likely than not, the dinner hasn't happened and will never happen. more likely than not, that gap will remain unbridgeable. perhaps it's too much to ask for, to ever truly know your foil. perhaps it's even more impossible to expect to be known

[marveliter]

Surprise | Doc Ock

Summary: You are at work six months after Otto had his nightmare, and while on break you get a very special visit from the criminal boyfriend you’re harboring, who decided to grow out his beard as to not be noticed by the public, and your coworkers become jealous at how good-looking he is.

A/N: Yes. I’m obsessed with bearded Otto. I think we were robbed not seeing him bare chested and bearded in NWH…definitely more bare chested bc come on that look is iconic. Also...how would y’all feel about the Single Word Series being on Wattpad w/ an OC I’ve made up? ;) Just a thought! Anyways! No warnings! Except mention of age gap. Only fluff! :) 

The Single Word Series 

6 MONTHS LATER 

“Jim doesn’t do anything when I’m here. He doesn’t think to ask the kids if they’re hungry--as a parent, you should know that your kids need some dinner, right?” your coworker, Michelle was complaining about her nice but also oblivious husband.        Katherine, your other coworker scoffs, “Tell me about it. Andrew gets my kids McDonalds--that’s a Friday treat for after school, like getting ice cream, and when I’m not home that’s his idea of dinner for them. Casey is a picky eater, and I’m trying to get him to lean away from the same foods he eats everyday.”        Joss, your other, other coworker, pipes up, “I don’t have kids, but my boyfriend basically is like a baby without me.”        You hear your three coworkers scoff, laugh and groan at the things their husbands and boyfriends do while you open your small plastic container of sliced peaches. You didn’t really like the hospital food, and when your break started, you weren’t as hungry as you should be. You were only three hours into your shift, evening coming soon, and you were slightly dreading eating the pasta that was going to be served. The hospital food wasn’t bad, but pasta was always a reoccurrence for dinner. It got old quickly.        “How about yours?” you hear Michelle asked.        You looked up from your peach container, a peach slice on your plastic fork as you looked across the table at your three coworkers.        “Huh?” you asked.        “You know, that boyfriend of yours we’ve never met,” Katherine smirked and raised a brow at you. 

      “Yeah,” Joss giggled. “You’ve been dating him for what? A few months now? And we haven’t met him yet?”        “He might not even be real then!” Katherine cackled.        You felt your cheeks grow warm, and immediately the women laughed. “Six months!” you said, being a good sport. “I’ve been dating him for six months--well, coming up on six months. And you don’t see him because I’m always here, and he’s always at home, so we like spending time together on my days off.”        It sounded like a lie, like you didn’t want them to meet Otto, but it was true. Most of the time.        Now that it’d been a few months since you found Otto in the harbor, everyone felt good about not having any interesting criminals running around New York climbing onto buildings or flying on machines. Now, Spider-Man was only working with robbed banks and criminals in driveaway cars. Which meant everyone forgot about Doc Ock, forgot about Otto Octavius.        Everyone but you.        Usually when you had a few days off, you would rest up one day, go out with Otto the next and then spend time with him in your apartment the next. Most of your off days were spent with Otto either curled up in bed or on the couch watching movies. And in the mornings on your off days, you both would make fun of J. Jonah Jameson trying to find anything to harp on Spider-Man for ever since his last villain, being your criminal boyfriend of the past six months, had disappeared. It was your first ever good relationship--and though it was half a year strong, you were happier than ever. However, dating your harboring criminal boyfriend came with a few cons, like not bragging too much about him to the point where your coworkers and friends wanted to meet him.        However, this made everyone question if you even had a boyfriend, like now. 

      “What’s his name?” Katherine asked. “Oswalt?”        You made a face at her, trying not to let your agitation show.        “Otto,” you corrected.        Michelle started being kind. “Awe, I love that. It’s cute!”        “It sounds old.” Joss said. But then she saw your eyes move to her, to which she quickly added, “But cute!”        Michelle was nearly the only coworker who could be genuinely nice, Katherine wasn’t exactly genuine, and Joss was a kiss-ass. Joss was also the closest to your age, maybe a year or two older, but she wanted to so badly be part of a group that gossiped and made her self-esteem grow, so she attached herself to the two middle-aged women she worked with and tried to match their “maturity.” You called it something else. Not a nice word, but one that fitted the three better than “mature.”        You smiled at the thought of Otto. “It is such a cute name. Fits him too.”        “I love it when people look like their name. I can’t imagine them as any other.” Michelle said.        “Me too.” Joss agreed. As always.        Katherine wanted to be included, and said your name before adding, “I notice you snack a lot on the fruit cups here. You know as nurses we have an employee discount.”        You shrug as you munch on a peach. “Having spaghetti three days in a row when you work gets old. Especially when coworkers keep requesting it and you can’t stomach it anymore.”        “But it’s a discount,” Joss tried jumping onto Katherine’s good side.        But Michelle was being very genuine with you today. “Ugh! Tell me about it. You weren’t here last week, but I worked four days in a row, and for four days in a row it was Walking Tacos for the main meal. I hated it. So I did the next worst thing and ate a salad.” she cackled at the end, making you smile.        Joss then gave into Michelle’s point, “Yeah, that’s annoying.” 

      You wanted to roll your eyes. Even though it’d been a while since high school, people still needed cliques and such to fit in anywhere. Even worse, they still talked and gossiped like it was high school.        “So,” Katherine twisted the straw in her cup. “Back to this fake boyfriend--”        “He’s not fake,” you smiled. This joke you could take, but what you couldn’t take was the annoying pushes for them to meet Otto. You wanted to show Otto off, tell your coworkers how he was better than their husbands and boyfriends in need of babysitting. However, there was one thing Otto had told you that he felt embarrassed about now that he was with you--this scared you, thinking he was saying that he was embarrassed to be with you, but he was more embarrassed about himself.        “He’s. . .just a little shy,” you told the women with a shrug. “He’s an introvert, but I think we can all be either or, he just prefers to stay at home.”        “So, you haven’t introduced him to anyone?” Joss asked. “Not even your parents? Friends?”       You forced a chuckle, but it ultimately came out weak, “Don’t have parents, and my close friends are all scattered through the burrows.”        “You haven’t even introduced him to your friends?” Katherine asked. “Really?”        “Well,” you awkwardly shrugged. “He gets nervous. He’s a little insecure about one thing,”        Even as you said it, six eyes went wide. Oh great, you thought, they’re hooked now.        “Oh?” Katherine sat back and fiddled with her straw from her cup again. “And what’s that?”        You hated yourself for letting it slip, but now they had to know, and you worried about the reaction they were going to give you. You parted your lips to speak, eyes looking away from theirs.        The one thing that worried Otto about being with you was-- 

      Someone spoke your name, someone who wasn’t the three women. The voice sounded curious, a little confused, and belonging to a man.        A man you knew.        You and the women turn towards the opening leading into the break room, and for a moment, no one was there, but then you saw him in the doorway.        Him.        Your mouth dropped into an open smile, eyes wide with awe. 

      Otto stood in the doorway, long black jacket over a black crewneck and blue jeans. When his eyes fell on your face the moment you both realized you were in the same room, he smiled. A lot of things about Otto changed in the last few months that you and Otto had started dating, growing closer. His hair grew darker and longer, gray streaks peaking through strands of hair, his brown eyes were brighter, his skin peachier and along with the gray streaks in his hair, he’d grown out a salt and pepper beard as well. In the beginning of letting it grow out, he said it would change his appearance just the slightest so he could go out more without fearing of anyone recognizing him. Well, no one had given him the slightest idea that he looked like the man with four metallic limbs, even when the actuators were hidden under a coat or jacket.        You were worried about the summer coming up, as you had met Otto in the fall, and it was April now. The weather in New York was starting to warm up, and your boyfriend was still insecure about his four metal limbs sticking out from his back. 

      “Oh my God!” you laughed, standing up from the round table, approaching him with open arms. You hugged, feeling the metal part of the waistband against your stomach as Otto held you close. You didn’t mind it, as Otto gave great hugs anyway. “Wh-what are you doing here?” you asked.        That’s when you notice the plastic bag in Otto’s hand as you let each other go from the hug. He held it up and handed it out to you.        “It’s for you.” he said. “You were pretty clear on how you don’t like eating the dinner food here.” He chuckled as you punched him in the arm.        “That’s exactly what we were talking about a second ago!” you gesture to your coworkers, whose faces were stuck in shocked expressions, eyeing Otto up and down. “Oh,” you turned back to Otto. “Guys, this is Otto, my boyfriend. Otto, these are my coworkers, Katherine, Michelle and Joss. We’re all on rounds for tonight.”        Katherine moved her shocked expression away from you and Otto to Michelle next to her, while Joss was still staring wide-eyed at Otto with an open jaw. Michelle must’ve kicked her in the shin, because Michelle cleared her throat as Joss closed her mouth and shook her head.        “It--it’s so nice to meet you,” Michelle smiled. She started twirling a long fly away in front of her ear.        You looked from her to Katherine, who was looking Otto up and down in wide eyes. You weren’t sure what she was feeling, but you could see her swallowing hard. Otto stayed standing next to you, but gave the women a little wave.        “S-So, what do you do, Otto?” Michelle asked, her tone becoming lighter, interested.        Otto nervously chuckled, “I’m a physicist, I do projects dealing with nuclear fusion.”        All three women stared and blinked at him before you laughed, “I don’t get it either. But I like it when he talks about it.” 

      You look up at Otto and put an arm around him, smiling. He does the same, looking down at you with a warm smile.        “How did you two meet again?” Katherine asked, lips forming a smile but her eyes narrowing.        “I was on an early morning jog when I met him down at the harbor,” you told them. That was true!        “I was collecting odd objects that washed onto the shore,” Otto smiled. That was not true! But you both knew you couldn’t tell the true story--and that was pretty unfortunate in your eyes.        Joss took Katherine’s lead and narrowed her eyes at the two of you, but mostly Otto. “You’re very. . .” she puckered her lips in search of the right word. “Tall.” you thought she nearly hissed it, but also, you didn’t care for Joss, so anything that came out from her mouth sounded weird. You saw her bright eyes move to the two other women, to which Katherine nodded and caught on.        “Yes. . .tall.” she told Otto.        You furrow your brows as another coworker you liked a hell of a lot more, Quincey, walked in from another doorway. She greeted you by name, and then in the same way Michelle was looking at Otto, her eyes grew wide and a smile fell on her face.        “Hi,” she greeted Otto, then her eyes looked to you as if to say Is this him? You nodded with a smile at Quincey, who smirked. You only told Quincey about what Otto looked like, appearance and all--besides the actuators, of course.        “Hello,” Otto smiled at Quincey.        “You must be Otto!” she smiled, looking between you and him. “I’ve heard so much about you. So nice to put a name to a face--and a handsome one too.” Quincey winked at you, to which you playfully nudged Otto with your hips and smiled at him.       Otto nervously chuckled, “Why thank you, though she makes me look better.” Otto looked down at you, and to his remark you slapped his arm again.        “No I do not!” you laughed with him. “You are handsome damnit!”        You, Otto, Quincey, and even Michelle laughed, though she laughed a little louder. That made Joss and Katherine eye her. 

      “So what is this not-so-mysterious-man-anymore doing here at the hospital?” Quincey asked as she grabbed herself a soda.        You lift up the plastic bag and smile. “I’m not eating pasta again tonight!”        Quincey cheered, making you and Otto laugh.        “That’s so sweet of you to bring her dinner,” Michelle sweetly sighed to Otto.        Otto shrugged. “Charity work.” That earned him another playful slap on the arm from you.        “You’re done now. Bye.” you giggled, pushing him out of the doorway.        Otto chuckled as he waved to all the other women inside, wishing them a goodbye. You and Otto walked a few feet away from the breakroom so you and him could have your own conversation. 

      “Thank you so much for this,” you told him. “I really appreciate it.”        “I thought you’d enjoy a change since the last time you worked it was pasta again. Seems like I came at a good time.” he replied.        You nodded. “You did. It was nice seeing someone not in scrubs or a patient dress for the first time today.”        You and Otto laugh as he brings you in close for a hug, to which you get on your tip toes to kiss him. Short and sweet, but it put big smiles on your faces.        “Your coworkers seem nice.” he told you.        You nod but shrug. “Yeah. They’re nice enough. Quincey is my favorite though,” you whispered that last part, making Otto chuckle.        “I hear her name a lot from your work stories. She seems lovely.”        “She is,” you smile.        “At least she wasn’t staring at me with open mouths.” Otto chuckled.        “Yeah I’m not so sure what that was about, but I think Michelle has the hots for you.” you told him, then crossed your arms. “Don’t get any ideas now.”        “The only idea I have is an escape plan in case she and I end up in the same room alone.” Otto remarked.        You both laughed and hugged again, but this hug stuttered for a moment before Otto looked behind you, then went, “Hello, Joss!” 

      Turning around, you catch Joss’ blond hair dart back through the doorway. You turned to Otto, covering your mouth to keep from laughing.        “What the hell?” you laugh. “So weird!”        Otto chuckled and gave you a proper hug. “I’ll wait for you back at home, dear.”        You smile and hold him a little tighter. “I’ll be counting down the minutes.”        You both kissed one last time before you both parted, and you walked alone back into the breakroom. You heard whispers immediately die the moment you walked in. Quincey was still next to the sodas, behind the table of the three women. 

      “What?” you ask the three women at the table as you move to the fridge to put your dinner inside. “He clearly saw the way you all were looking at him--and me too, I saw. What’s on your guys’ minds?”        Katherine looked shock at your words. “I’ve never seen this confrontational side of you before.”        You shrug. “You guys are gawking and talking about my boyfriend--one that I really like and enjoy spending my time with, of course I’m going to confront you about him.” You cross your arms and look at the women. “So, what’s on everyone’s minds?” You tried not to smile seeing Quincey smile at your newfound confidence.        Katherine and Joss looked to Michelle, who started giggling. You eyed Michelle, who began blushing.        “He’s hot!” she exclaimed. You, her and Quincey started laughing, but Michelle had even more to say. “He’s so hot!”        Katherine was the one to put an end to the laughter. “Isn’t that weird?” she asked. “I mean, how much older is he than you? That’s weird, right?” she looked around as if there was a larger audience in the breakroom.        “I think so,” Joss shrugged, siding with Katherine. 

      You shrug. “I mean, he’s definitely out of my age range, but it’s not like I’m extremely young. I’m not fresh out of college.”        “But you’re near my age, right?” Joss asked. “Right?”        That didn’t help your case, but who cares? You certainly didn’t. Otto made you happy, and you were going to brag about it.        “Yeah.” you shrugged. “I am. But he treats me right. He’s kind to me, he likes going out with me--”        “He brought her dinner!” Quincey added. “Now, who’s boyfriend or husband has done that for them?”        She mostly looked between Katherine and Joss, who looked away from her.        “He’s a keeper!” Michelle nodded. “I don’t know what twist of fate brought you two together, and I love Jim, but I’m so jealous of you right now.”        “And he’s a scientist!” Quincey stated, then looked at you and said, “You’re a sugar baby.”        You cackled with her and Quincey, and then Joss joined.        “That’s funny!” she said, but her kiss-ass smile faded when you gave her a look.        “Well, we’re all jealous over your older, hotter, thinks about you all the time boyfriend--I need a man to think about what I’m eating for dinner!” Quincey laughed. “But anyways, I’m happy for you, as you know.” 

      You nod and smile at her before you check your watch. “Ugh,” you groan. “Gotta get back to my rounds. Bye, ladies.”        Quincey approached you. “I’ll walk with you.”        You smile. “I’d like that.” And you waved goodbye to the three women before you and Quincey walked out of the breakroom.        When you both were far enough away so not even Joss could hear your conversation, Quincey snickered.        “Girl, you have all those women in there wishing they had your man.”        You laugh, “Michelle was eyeing him and twirling her hair.”        “Hide him from her.” Quincey laughed. “And it doesn’t seem like it, but Katherine is so jealous you snagged Otto. She wants a rich old man to care for her like that.”        You roll your eyes and laugh. “I don’t see him as old! I see him as a man who treats me right.”        “As you should!” Quincey exclaimed.        “He’s not exactly rich either.” you tell her. “I’m just happy to be with him.”        “He feels the same way. I know it.” she winked. “Keep him, and don’t ever let him go.”        “I plan to.” you smile. 

[turtle-go-brrrr]

Scratch my shell, I scratch yours

A/N: Heya! So remember two posts ago where I said I wouldn't write fics because I'm not confident enough in my writing to post it? Yeah, me neither. I started writing this at 6 am because I couldn't sleep and kept working on it during the day, so enjoy ^^(I got a little tired at the end, and i think you can feel it ;w; hope it’s good enough anyway!)

Also, I’m a sucker for platonic intimacy, and there is a severe lack of platonic x reader in this fandom

Fun fact: the Shell is both the Dorsal (part on the back) AND the Plastron (part on the front).

Requested: No

Pairing: None, platonic

Word count: 2500 +

Triggers: None

Summary: You make an embarrassing suggestion that they surprisingly accept.

_____________________________________________________________

The idea came to you in a random conversation you had as you sat on their couch.

"But wait, you can really reach everywhere? Like if I touch here-", you point to a crevice in the middle of his shell. "You're telling me you can bend your arm enough to get here?"

Leonardo gently takes your wrist and pull your hand away. "I mean, we have some of those telescopic scrubs to help, you know? Or we can just ask each other to get to the hard places if it's really complicated."

Oh.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You have been asking a few questions about their shells after Raphael started showing off some of his scars, fascinated by the intricate patterns you could see on your friends. The topic of cleaning has be brought up, and as your curiosity took charge, your brain decided to embarrass you as much as it could.

"Do you think I could help?"

Only the faint background music Mikey had set up earlier could be heard as your mutant friends looked at you, eyes wide open.

Oh, that came out wrong.

"Wait, that's not what I-", you start to explain your line of thoughts when you get interrupted by the smug look Mikey sent you, as he harbored a teasing smile.

"Oh? I didn't realize that's what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out more," he wiggles his eyebrows as your nervous laughter fills the room.

"Hold on, I can explain."

Silence again.

"Oh, you're actually listening?"

"I mean, I think we're all dying to know why on earth you'd want to take a shower with us. You're not usually this upfront with your affection," Donatello chimes in. He's not even looking at you in the eyes, but doesn't really try to hide that stupid smirk.

Bastard.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on not letting the embarassement take over, but your voice shakes imperceptibly, and you can feel youself start to sweat. Great.

"Okay, so I was thinking : you guys always do so much for the city and never get anything in return. I remember Mikey told me that you guys love shell scratches, and now I can see that you have some trouble cleaning it, so maybe I can help with that ? Kinda like a massage sort of thing, it doesn’t have to be weird if no one makes it. Now obviously we’ll be wearing swimsuits, we’re not close enough for… you know… actually taking a shower together, " you try clearing your throat discretly. You hear a muffled laugh from Raph.

"Anyway, I think Casey knows where to buy the best animal care product. I think human stuff might not be suitable for your shells, and I read somewhere that water was the best way to clean a turtle shell anyways, but if you have suggestions just let me know what you usually use. Do you even have swimsuits ? Doesn’t matter, I’m sure we can find you some-"

As you rambled on, the slight shame started to wear off and you were able to explain your line of thoughts more clearly. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to settle down, even if your friends were absolutely going to tease you about it later. Leonardo seemed hesitant, though.

"I don’t know, man. Are you sure about this ? I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can take care of ourselves, you know."

"I’m not gonna force you if you don’t want to, I’m just offering because I want to do something nice for you guys. You can’t really take a break, but you could at least relax a bit."

"I’m up for it." You didn’t expect Raph to agree so quickly, but maybe you should have anticipatd that as you look at the bags under his eyes. "I mean, the worst thing that could happen is falling asleep while getting a massage from a friend. Kinda sounds like a dream if you ask me. "

‘Well that was easy,’ you think as your face lightens up.

"Besides, we can laugh at them for wanting to shower with us. Didn’t think you’d want to be so intimate, " he purrs as he gives you a side glance.

Oh. Bastard number two.

"Alright. Sure. You know what, fair game, " you laugh it off. Mikey puts a reassuring arm around your shoulders as Donnie places his legs on your laps.

"We do have swimwear, so you don’t need to worry about that. And you were right about using only water to clean it, as human products tends to make us itchy afterwards. There are some types of oil we use sometimes to nourish our shells, however. I think the only thing we might need to look into is new brushes. The ones we have are, hum, barely hanging on."

You send a quick text to Casey and April to let them know about the plan after making a short list of supplies with Leo, who ended up agreeing.

It didn’t take that much convincing.

____________________________

Saturday came fast. After getting all the necessary supplies with Casey, you both made your wait to the lair to join April. They had both agreed to help you in your task, because 'damn, they really need some appreciation'.

"When do you think they'll be back?" You ask Splinter as he offers you a cup of spiced tea.

"Usually around one in the morning, unless they were delayed."

Unless something went wrong.

But those dark thought quickly faded away as you heard the faint echo of Mikey's laughter as he recalled their night. Light chatter filled the room as they took off their gear and put away their weapons, and April hushed them to get changed and take a quick shower so they could get started and finally have some sort of a break.

You could see they were excited as they each went their own way, waiting for their turn to the shower.

When you live in the sewers and try to turn it into a living space, you have to do what you can with what you have. And sometimes, what you have is a large space that you can turn into a huge bathroom, with multiple showers and a large bathtub; but what you don't have is privacy. So big communal bathroom it is.

In this specific case, it's a good thing, because it means you can all chill together as you get to work on their shells. Once everyone was settled in, April motioned them to sit on some of the chairs you put up. She opens the bag Casey and you brought and starts getting the multiple brushes and bottle out.

"You have to understand that you guys are, uh, gigantic. So try to stay at our level, okay? And stay put, please. Anyway, here is what we've got for you: there are multiple brushes - one of each type for each of you - and some are harder than the others. Don't worry, we'll try not to scrub your shell off of you," she winks at that, and holds back a laugh at Raph's worried expression.

She continues. "We also found the oil Donnie told us about, and we bought multiple bottles. You'll have a stack for next time." She then gets one last bottle out that she puts aside.

"That one is for Splinter. To make his fur all soft and shiny," you butt in with an innocent smile. The old man deserves a treat too.

Casey laughs at that and says, "So, there's tree of us and four of you. Who is okay waiting for his turn?"

Silence.

After a solid minute, Leonardo sighs and volunteers to let his brothers enjoy a well deserved spoiling session. Mikey, instead of sitting on a chair like a normal person, choose instead to lay down on the bathroom floor.

"You said it was basically a massage, right? Now it really feels like it!"

"Oh, good idea. I'm this close to getting a pillow and having the nap of my life," Donnie says, putting his fingers together.

"Your fingers are touching."

"I know," he gives you a side smile as he starts to get up, but you quickly bring him back to reality. "But there's gonna be water everywhere?" You sit down next to where he just was and watch as he goes back to where he sat, sending you a disapproving side glance.

"Let a turtle dream, will you?" He lays down on his stomach, puts his head on his arms, and scouts closer to you.

You watch Raph get settled on a chair next to Casey, putting his arms on the backrest as April hands you one of the harder brushes. Leo makes a quick trip to the kitchen and brings back some water, a few snacks, and a copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne.

"Again," you start. "There's gonna be water everywhere. Are you sure bringing a book here is a good idea?"

He gives you a sly smile. "Gotta live up to my name."

What?

"What?"

"You know," Mikey interrupts. "Fearless."

"Oh. Right. Well, don't come crying when you drop it into a puddle then." But you offer him a plastic bag anyway, to hold his book with it in case he wets his hands.

"You sure you're okay waiting?" Casey asks him as he starts pouring water over Raph's back.

"Yeah, don't worry. I have things to keep me busy anyway."

______________________________

It took one swipe of the brush from April for Mikey to start... what was the word? Churring.

A low rumble coming from his throat that had kind of the same function as a cat's purr, Donnie explained. It was an expression of contentment or happiness, that sometimes even happended when they needed reassurance.

Adorable.

"I can't believe you guys can purr and never told me." Raph doesn't even bother opening his eyes when he answers you, "We knew you'd take advantage of that. Didn't want to be babied by the tiniest human we ever met."

Asshole.

You went back and forth with the gruff turtle, always in good spirit though. Conversations flowed, laughter were exchanged, and everyone managed to lighten up. Master Splinter joined the group at some point, and was just glad to spend some time with his family - all of it. He also started to take cared of Leo’s dorsal, to his delight.

You don't exactly know when, but some time after Donnie started to let go some soft churrs as you scrubbed the dirt off of his shell, you stopped listening to the current topic and started to really focus on your task.

Scrapping the dirt hidden in between every crevice, rubbing the largest scales, you were surprised by the look of the bare shell of your nerdy friend. You never really stopped to observe this particular feature the four brothers harbored, not only out of decency, but also because it was always covered. Gear and clothes, backpack and tech, dirt and blood, there was always something hiding the intricate patterns of their shells.

You unconsciously slowed down to really take in what you were seeing, your fascination and curiosity taking over your wish to help.

"I don't know why, but I never expected your shell to be so colorful," you say after wiping away the dirty water from the left side of his back. You didn’t mean to say it at loud, but he doesn't answer you. However, you do get something from Mikey.

"Man, you should see mine! Don helped me create an organic paint so I can paint my shell without hurting myself with a bunch of chemicals, and it looks sooo damn good-"

"Shh!"

"... Did they- Did you just shush me?"

"Shhh!" You whisper yell this time. You then give a side glance toward the sleeping turtle under you.

"Annw. Good luck waking him up."

"Yeah, I'm... not doing that. He needs his sleep," you laugh quietly.

______________________________

It took the three of you around an hour to deep clean their shells. Even Raph was finally letting go and softly churring at the end. Mikey was loud enough to have trouble speaking, and Donnie was still asleep. Splinter was still working meticulously on his son, who, he could tell, had a hard time holding back the content churrs that threatened to spill out.

You get up and strech, feeling your joints crack and already anticipating how sore you’ll be tomorrow. The muscles in your arms were burning, and you couldn’t feel your butt anymore, but it was worth it. You’ve never seen the four mutants so relaxed before.

Remembering the oils, you went toward the towels to dry your friend’s back and give the final touch to, what you’d grow to refer to, your work of art. You gave a few head scratches to Raph, who was dozing off with a lazy smile, and went back to Donatello. You slowly dried his dorsal when you felt him shift under your hands.

"Hey buddy," you speak softly. He whispers a ‘hey’ you can barrely hear.

"I’m almost done. I just have to put the oil, then you can let it dry and go to sleep, okay ? " You open the bottle and get a paintbrush, with which you start coating his shell with a thin layer of oil. You can hear his soft churrs start again.

Casey accidentally dropped the bottle of oil on Raph’s back and was desperatly trying to gather as much as he could. "Shi- Fuck, wait-"

"Here, give me some. Thanks to you, I don’t have to open mine, " April said with a smirk. She helped him clean up before going back to Mikey, who raised himself on his forearms and watched the scene unfold with a tired smile.

It took only around twenty minute to put the oil on their shells and get it almost dried up. Once it was done, you helped Splinter and Casey clean up as April let her dizzy friends hold onto her, guiding them on their way to their room. Once it was all done, you waved Leo good night as Raph ruffled your hair and went to sleep. Mikey gave you a big hug and thanked you for the ‘bonker idea’ and made you promise to do it again soon, which you agreed on.

April was already sleeping in the big armchair next to the couch, Casey in a sort of little nest of blankets and pillows at her feet. As you made your way to the couch – your makeshift bed for the night – Donnie was passed out cold on it already. And, boy, does he takes up a lot of space.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Splinter standing next to you. "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you borrowing his bed for the night. "

"I– are you sure ? "

"He stole yours. He’ll live. " A gentle smile tugged at his lips as he guided you to your friend’s room, offering you a spare blanket and pillow. "Have a good night, Y/N. You know where to find me if you need anything."

”Thank you, Master Splinter.” You can feel your eyelid close on their own, and decide to finally call it a night. You got settled as best you could in the bed, and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

A warm breakfast would await you in the morning.

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

Family (Hank Voight x Daughter!Reader)

Word Count: 3,033

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader (Familial relationship)

Summary: When you were 8 and dealing with a mother who left when you could barely walk and a father who was too loaded to even remember he was a father, Hank Voight found you and took you in. Now as an adult and working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51, you are shocked when your biological parents come back to be in your life again.

Warnings: talks of child abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, swearing, and angst.

A/N: Y/M/N - Your Middle Name. Also, this is probably the longest imagine I’ve written so far, I hope you all enjoy it :)

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!!

“Excuse me.” 

A rough gravely voice made 8 year old you look up at the imposingly tall figure above you. You squinted as flurries of Chicago snow fluttered around the two of you, sticking to the cracked cement and dried up grass on the sidewalk. The man had short dark hair and what your child’s brain thought of as “Dumbo-like” ears. He wore a blue and black police uniform and had a shiny silver star badge pinned to his chest.

“Hi,” The man said, moving down to kneel so that you were both around the same height. “Are you lost?”

You stared at the police officer for a second before shaking your head no, “I live around the corner.”

“Oh okay, how about I walk you home? Your mom and dad must be worried about you.” He offered. Again, you shook your head.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t have a mom and my dad’s mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, he yells and-and one time he pushed me into the tiny table in the tv room and it really hurt.” You explained, not really understanding your situation but something clicked in the police officer’s eyes. “But a lot of the time he gets sleepy from the bottles of smelly juice and the needles.”

The police officer nodded, and looked down the road in the direction you pointed out where you live. There is a long silence as you shifted on your tiny feet, not really knowing what was going on. Then the police officer turned to you and smiled, his eyes warm as they looked at you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N, my name is Officer Hank Voight. How would you feel about riding in a police car and seeing a real police station?”

For the first time since he found you, Hank saw your sad expression change into a huge smile, your eyes lighting up like the skyline on Chicago he loves so much. And he knew then that he was gonna help you out in anyway that he could.

                                                           ---

23 years later...

“Hey, Voight! You got someone outside asking for you!” Lieutenant Kelly Severide called out. You looked up from the cards in your hand and then looked around at your friends on Truck 81 who you were playing cards with. 

“Who is it?” You asked, already putting your cards down.

“A woman? Says her name is Carla Jennings.”

Still confused, you got up and made your way out to the bay where the trucks and ambo sat waiting for action. Capp and Joe Cruz were sitting at the Squad table, looking up when you walked in and Joe pointed out a woman who was standing just outside the station. Her light brown and gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked around jittery, her hands popping in and out of her jacket pockets. It was gray outside, another Chicago winter just started and soon enough the snow would fall down on the Windy City. 

You walked over to the woman, her jittery motions stopping when she saw you approaching. A smile came on her face, and for a second you thought that you saw her eyes water a bit from the sight of you. “Carla Jennings?”

“Yes, hi.” Carla said, pulling out her hands from her jacket again. It looked almost like she was going to go in for a hug, but stopped and then held her hand out to you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Y/F/N Voight. Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” You asked. Her smile that she had on before dimmed a bit when you said your name, but she forced it back on after you shook her hand and let go.

“Wow, look at you. You’re so grown up now.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.” Carla wiped away a couple of tears and sniffled, trying not to look away from you. “It’s just its been so long.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. I don’t know who-”

“Your last name. It wasn’t always Voight.”

You stopped, and looked at her as she walked a little closer to you. You could feel the eyes of your fellow firefighters watching this interaction, then being just as confused as you were. “I’m sorry?”

“Your last name, it was Y/L/N. I’m right, aren’t I?” Carla said.

“Who are you? How do you know that?” You asked. Carla’s eyes started to water again, and she looked at you and sighed.

“Y/N, I’m your mom.”

You look at her, eyes scanning over her trying to piece together what she had said. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was probably referring to your biological mother, not your mom, Camille Voight who raised you like her own and died of cancer. You had no memories of this woman standing in front of you.

“My mom died in 2011 of ovarian cancer.”

“No, I’m your real mom. I gave birth to you and held you and-”

“Left? You left and you left me with that man.” You said, your voice a little louder then before. She looked stunned, like this was news to her. “I’m sorry but whatever you want, I’m not interested.” 

You go to turn away and walk back into the firehouse when Carla grabbed your arm and stopped you. “Please! Please I’m you mom, I’m your blood!!”

You pulled away and turned back to her, “No, you are not my mom. You are a woman who was supposed to take care of me and left me with a drunk of a man before my dad came and took me in. So I owe you nothing.”

“Is everything okay here?” Chief Boden asked, finally walking over to the two of you and trying to catch your eye.

“Yeah, everything is fine. We’re done here.” You said as you took one last look at Carla and walked back towards the house. Herrmann tried to stop you but you walked past everyone and straight into Boden’s office, sitting down and waiting for him to come back inside. The anger you felt before in front of that woman started to settle down, and overwhelming emotions of loathing, sadness, and abandonment bubbled up until you were trying to hold back sobs. The office door opened and Chief Boden, and Lieutenants Casey and Severide walked in, all three circling you in worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” Severide asked, slowly putting a hand on your back and rubbing it up and down. Your crying started to subside, and once you got to a point where you were just sniffling and whipping tears away, you finally looked up to the three men around you. 

“Um, so that was my biological mother. And... I haven’t seen her since I was maybe 3?” You explained. You turned to Chief Boden and took a deep breath. “Is there any way I could clock out early? I-I need to see my dad.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t be working with this going on anyway. Take a couple days and come back with a clear mind.”

“Yes sir. Do you mind if I wait inside until she is gone? I feel like she might still be out there waiting for me.”

“How about we drop you off at the 21st?” Casey said, then turning to Boden, “We’ll have our radios on in case there is a call.”

Boden looked at you then nodded, “Go.”

“Thanks Chief.” You said, getting up and patting both Casey and Severide on the shoulders before passing them and heading towards the locker room to change. Your mind was racing as you got out of your work clothes, memories of what felt like a past life, waking up with beer and condiments in the fridge, hand-me-down clothes from the family 2 houses down that felt bad for my situation, but said nothing. Once the image of the red-hungover eyes and gnarled and matted hair came into your mind, you shut your locker, snapping yourself back into the present.

                                                         ---

Once everyone was on 81, the truck headed off into the city to your dad’s district. It was silent as the truck stopped at lights and turned corners, finally you got to the 21st and was about to jump out of the truck when Lieutenant Casey called out to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I hope you’re able to work everything out.”

You sent a small smile his way, thanked him and jumped out. “See you guys later.”

“See you around, kid!” Herrmann yelled just as the truck took off back to the house. Turning, you started walking towards the station, the patrolmen mingling with others on the steps outside. Once you got in, you saw Sargent Trudy Platt manning the desk as usual and that put a small smile on your face. Trudy was always funny and nice to you growing up, and she treated you almost like a daughter. When she saw that you walked in, and by how observant she is probably catching your puffy face and red eyes, concern completely took over her stature.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, coming around her desk and over to you, rubbing your arms comfort.

“Is my dad here? I just need to talk to him about something.”

“He’s out right now with Olinsky right now, but I think he’ll be back soon. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” You said, taking a deep breath and shrugging, “I want to talk dad first.”

Trudy took a second before nodding, “I’ll buzz you up so you can wait in his office.”

“Thanks, Trudy.” You said as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back to your desk.

“You know you are the only person that I can tolerate, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” Trudy called out. She and Alvin Olinsky, your dad’s best friend, were the only two who got into the habit of calling you by your first and middle name. Instead of it feeling like you were in trouble like it would when you were a kid, it was always met with love. You were just about to start walking up the stairs to head into Intelligence when a male voice called out.

“Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You froze, that voice immediately sending anxiety through you like a bucket of cold water. You slowly turned around and found a man trying to stand up from a bench, but was handcuffed to it. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were 8, exactly from when you would see him in your nightmares after moving in with the Voights. His hair was matted and looked unwashed, his eyes red and teeth yellow, and even from how far you were from him, you could smell beer wafting off him. “It is you. Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Danny.” You said, trying to keep your cool. You could see that Trudy had picked up the phone and was whispering something into it, you only catching your name and “get here now”. 

“Danny? What happened to dad, huh?”

“You stopped being my dad the minute I left that hellhole called a house.”

“Sorry darlin’, but that’s not how gen-et-tics works. You’re my kin and I will always be a part of you no matter who raises you.”

“Shut up.” You yelled. Others in the station were watching your interaction, you even heard the gate open at the top of the stair and figured that whoever was up at Intelligence came down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, don’t like that now do you? You can try and hide where you came from and clean yourself up, but you will always be Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and you will follow in your families footsteps. You’ll either leave like that junkie-whore mama of yours, or you’ll end up like your dear-ol’-daddy.” He smirked as you started shaking, him noticing your reacting and smirking more, “You can’t run from what you’re made of.”

Just as he said that, Hank and Alvin Olinsky rushed into the building, Hank noticing you and turning to Danny who looked like he just won something. “Get him out of here.” Hank said, pointing to a patrolman near Danny. As the officer uncuffed Danny from the bench and recuffed his hands together, he started yelling.

“Ha! Now you got your crooked cop to come and save the day! Just like when you were a kid!” Danny started putting up a fight with the officer, trying to stay in the area, then turned to Hank, “You can take her and gussy her up, but trash is still trash.”

“Get him out of here!!” Hank yelled again, and two more officers ran over and finally took Danny out of the space. You were still staring at where he was when you felt a hand on your arm and harshly flinched. 

It was just Hank, and he frown at your reaction to him, not seeing that happen since you first came to live with him and Camille. “Hey, lets go upstairs.”

You nodded, and the two of you walk up to the Intelligence Unit, you can feel the people downstairs all watching after that spectacle. Once you were both safely in Hank’s office, you both sat down in the chairs in front of his desk, Hank’s eyes still on you as you avoid his.

“Why aren’t you at the firehouse?” 

“After what just happened, you won’t believe me if I told you.”

After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked up at your dad, and he gave you a look you remember a lot from your childhood with him. It basically said, ‘try me’, which made you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“This woman came to the house asking for me, Carla Jennings, and ended up telling me that she was my mother. My biological mother.” You explain. Hank looked shocked, him never even knowing your bio mom. “I wanted to come see you so Chief Boden gave me a couple of days to get my head straight. And then that happened.”

“Yeah, Trudy said he was arrested on a DUI that almost killed a little girl.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

You sighed, hating that you came from him in the first place. You dropped you head into your hands as the information sunk in.

“Hey,” Hank said, putting a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles, happy that he didn’t have to see you flinch because of him again, “Don’t you dare listen to his words.”

“Isn’t he right though? I was lucky to get out of that hell of a home because of you, but his and that woman’s genes are in me. Its a matter of time before I screw everything up.”

“Genetics don’t mean shit. Hey, look at me,” You looked up and he had a determined look in his eye, “You may have came from them, but their mistakes don’t rule over what you will do. Look what you have done without them here; you graduated top of your class in high school, and then again when you graduated from the Fire Academy. You showed all those sexists bastards that you are just as good, if not better, than any man on that truck, and now there is word that you might be up for a promotion to squad?”

“What?” You said, shocked with the information.

“Boden called me last week saying that you had been taking the classes needed to get on rescue squad? And because you are amazing and smart and strong, there was word from the higher ups that you might get that open spot on Squad 3 as the first woman in the Chicago Fire Department history to be admitted to rescue squad.” Hank explained. You started to smile as some tears escaped out of a mix of happiness, confusion and some residual feelings from what had happened earlier today. “They’re just finalizing some things but they’re going to announce it at the Fireman’s Ball later this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you did that all without them. They had no say on these things, and they will not have say on the rest of your life.” Hank said, pulling you into a hug. The two of you hugged for a while, your tears subsiding as you basked in the feeling of love you were getting from your dad. 

“Thanks dad.” You said as you finally pulled away. He smiled and patted the top of your head, sneaking a kiss into your hairline while he was at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Goose. Taking you in was the best decision I ever made.” He said, making you smile wider than you were before. A beat of silence passed before there was a knock on the door and Alvin came in, his eyes bouncing from you to Hank in worry.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks Uncle Alvin.”

“Yeah, no problem kid.” He said, smiling at you and messing up your hair before turning back to Hank, “Ander’s girlfriend was picked up, she’s in interrogation.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Hank said, turning back to you as Alvin leaves.

You turn back to your dad and smile, “Can I stay in here? I kind of don’t want to go back to my apartment right now just in case that Carla woman knows where I live.”

“Yeah, take a nap on the couch in you want. We’re winding down with this case so when we’re done, you and me can go grab some dinner and we can talk about getting a restraining order on this lady.” Hank said. You were about to argue but you knew he was right. So you you nodded as Hank stood up and left one last kiss on your head before heading out of his office. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

Hank turned just as he was passed the doorway and smirked, “I’m always careful.”

“Oh-kay.” You said, sarcasm in your voice as you could hear your dad chuckle then head towards the interrogation rooms. 

TAGS:  @l4life​ @ithoughtiwasflying 

[sylvies-chen]

Brettsey please “so not to be rude or anything but i’ve been coming to this cemetery at this time on this day every week for fucking years and i’ve always been alone up until now seriously what the hell” au

Ok anon I REALLY have to apologize because this request has been sitting in my inbox for probably a month or two now but I didn’t get the inspo to finish this until last night. That being said, I got this into a short little oneshot so I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: alternate universe, grief, mourning, light emotional hurt/comfort, meet cute

Word count: 2922

183 days.

It’s been 183 days since Sylvie last visited Julie. 183 days thinking about how things should have been different. How Julie was supposed to survive, how her and Scott and Amelia were supposed to be a family. How Sylvie was supposed to reconnect with her, to finally know the woman who had given Sylvie her own life’s blood.

She was supposed to have more time.

Instead, Sylvie ends up feeling like more of a stranger to Julie than ever. The last time she visited was the funeral, and that hadn’t done much for her in terms of closure. If anything, it made her feel more out of place. Random strangers came up to her, asking how she knew Julie. Sylvie can still remember the confused looks on their face as she’d told them Julie was her birth mother who had given her up at sixteen years old, and the awkward condolences that came stuttering out of their mouths afterwards. She’d felt too guilty eventually, and left early. Who the hell was she anyway, to be tainting everyone’s view of her birth mother at her own funeral?

She hasn’t been to visit Julie’s grave ever since. All Sylvie had done was stay with parents for a few days to clear her head. A few days turned into a few weeks, and then a few months. Today marks month six of her stay there. Her parents had told her they’d be happy to have her. They hadn’t been receptive to the idea of Sylvie meeting Julie in the first place, so they were more than willing to help her through the loss. The only condition was that she had to go to therapy and work through her grief, which Sylvie happily agreed to. But last week, her therapist suggested she visit Julie’s grave to get ‘true closure’, whatever that means. It’s a strange idea to Sylvie but nothing else seems to be working. Her boss had assured her that Fowlerton was much too peaceful (the polite way of calling the town boring, and rightfully so) and it would do just fine without its favourite paramedic for a few days. So, reluctantly, she accepted.

That’s why Sylvie’s now halfway through an hour-long drive to Chicago, all the way back to the cemetery. She buys hydrangeas at a tiny flower shop she passes by when she first enters Chicago territory. They’re Julie’s favourite. They were Julie’s favourite

Her fingers anxiously tap at the wheel when she finally pulls into the cemetery. It’s a dreary Sunday, grey clouds hovering in the sky bringing the prominent threat of rain. The graveyard is empty when she gets there, from the looks of it, except for one single person. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a man around her age sitting on a bench near a grave, his eyes observing her curiously from over his shoulder. He’s not someone she knows-- she doesn’t really know many people here in Chicago after all-- but she ignores his lingering eyes. Shades of grey stick out against the field of green and wilted flowers are scattered across other tombstones. It feels like a ghost town, for lack of a better term. It’s gloomy and it looks like no one’s visited this place in a while. Even for a cemetery, the sight is a depressing one.

Sylvie slams her car door shut and takes a deep breath. Relax, she thinks. Just a quick drop by to see her, place the flowers, and then leave. You can get through this.

She makes a beeline towards Julie’s grave, less than 100 feet away, and stops dead in her tracks when she gets there. Her feet feel heavy in her pink rain boots, sticking out like a sore thumb against her black coat as she observes the tombstone.

Julie Walters

Loving wife and daughter

1973 - 2019

Sylvie doesn’t know how to feel reading those words. A whole life, one she only scratched the surface of, reduced to a mere four words and eight numbers. It’s underwhelming, and she doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Julie’s entire being wasn’t etched onto stone or insulted that they could summarize her in so few words.

Maybe it’s for the best. What else would they put on there anyway: that she was a flawed human who left behind a child who she wasn’t ready to have, only to die before she could see her second daughter years later when she was finally ready for one? When she was finally ready to reconcile with her first born? Yeah, it was definitely for the best.

She places the bouquet of hydrangeas on the wet grass next to the tombstone and stands back. Man, this is harder than she thought. The words are there, racing in her head, but they don’t come out. Every time she wants to say something, it gets caught in the back of her throat.

Sylvie’s trying to pick from a list of infinite questions and countless ways to begin when she feels a chill on the back of her neck. At that moment, a voice comes from behind her. “Hi, are y--”

“Ah!” Sylvie shrieks, the voice startling her. She nearly jumps out of her skin as she turns around in shock, only to see a guy standing in front of her. It’s the same guy, she realizes, that had been staring at her earlier. Now, up close, she guesses that he can’t be all that much older that she is. He has blonde hair that’s short at the back and longer at the front, his eyes a soft shade of blue-green. His jacket and boots are a little worn but other than that, he looks completely normal. Except for the fact that he’s the only other person in this whole cemetery, and he just came up to her from behind without making a sound.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assures her, his hands up in surrender.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Sylvie lets out a big breath, shaking off the nerves from the jumpscare.

“Not to be rude or anything, but I just-- I’m usually the only one here,” he explains awkwardly.

“Are you a groundskeeper or something? I can leave if you guys need me to.”

“No no,” he laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. “I work in construction, actually. But I’ve uh.. I’ve been coming here the same time, every Sunday for years now to visit my dad. Nobody’s ever here when I am, so I figured you must be new.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers. So okay, he’s not such a creep after all. Actually, he’s kind of sweet. “He must have been a really great dad, for you to be visiting him every week after all these years.”

“He… had his moments,” the man explains delicately. “Honestly, he wasn’t the most affectionate guy. I guess I just don’t want to end up like him. Jaded and cruel.”

Sylvie nods understandingly, because she gets it. Her parents are loving and supportive, but she’s had some exes that have put her through the ringer. Her first real love, Harrison, had been manipulative and heartless. She’s always hoped that these awful guys wouldn’t change her for the worse either.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I’ll get out of your hair,” he offers. “But uh, here. Take this.” The guy holds out a single rose, which Sylvie accepts.

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion at the gesture. “A rose?”

“Yeah, well, my dad has been getting a dozen roses a week from my family since I was 17, he won’t turn over in his grave if he gets 11 just this one time. I’m sure whoever you’re grieving could use it a lot more than he could.”

Sylvie’s confused expression softens into gratitude, a faint smile pulling at her lips. This guy, whoever he is, didn’t have to do this for her. It’s a sweet gesture. He really does seem nice. No catches, no mind games, just simple and kind. She hasn’t met a guy like that in a while, at least not one her age. “That’s actually really sweet, thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she introduces herself awkwardly. Everything about this situation is awkward, frankly. But she extends her free hand anyway. “Sylvie Brett.”

“Matt Casey. I wish it were under nicer circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is wide as he takes her hand and shakes it. It’s confusing, but it makes Sylvie smile all the same.

“You seem awfully cheerful for someone who’s in a graveyard,” she observes.

“Like I said: I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m sort of all talked out now,” Matt explains with a shrug.

“Right,” she nods. “I wish I could relate. Normally I’m the one who’s cheerful and talkative, but it’s hard with this sort of thing. Everything I want to say just doesn’t seem to come out. Sometimes, I think if I start talking…”

“You’ll never stop?” He guesses.

“Yeah.” How did he know?

“Well I can tell you from experience that you definitely do stop talking at one point. I got all talked out two years ago. I looked around one day and realized I was talking about types of screwdrivers to my dad’s grave with no one else around. Eventually, you’ll run out of topics like I did. And then new ones will come, and you’ll talk some more, and then you get quiet again and then you just… stop talking.”

“I hope so. I’m a big talker-- I mean seriously, I never shut up-- but I just… I don’t know where to start with this one,” she explains.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you visiting?”

“Julie Walters.” She points to the tombstone in front of them. “My birth mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Sylvie’s heard those six little words before. She had to stomach every single insincere, fake utterance of sympathy when she was at the funeral. But for some reason, the way Matt says it to her makes her think he really means it. She’s not used to people meaning it when they offer their condolences. It’s strange. Then again, this whole interaction is strange. “It’s okay,” she brushes it off.

“It’s not. At least, it doesn’t have to be,” he soothes. Something about his voice is so horrifyingly comforting. It’s calm and low, and it feels like warm tea and honey in her ears. It’s enough to make her want to burst into tears right then and there .

Sylvie takes a deep breath and then, before she can stop herself, breaks the silence to ramble. “I love my parents, you know? They raised me, they fed me, they’re responsible for the person I’ve become. But I’d always wondered where I came from, why my birth parents gave me up for adoption. And when Julie sought me out, I panicked at first. I wasn’t ready to give up that fantasy in my head of who she was, to have all my questions answered. But now I’m standing here, visiting her grave for the first time in the six months since her funeral by recommendation of my stupid grief counselor, and I… I just can’t stop thinking of all the questions I was too scared to ask. And man, it sucks.”

Matt stands there and nods understandingly, his gaze unwavering even as she turns her eyes towards Julie’s tombstone.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, wiping tears from her cheek. “We just met, and I’m rambling, and--”

“No no, it’s good for you,” he assures her. “ And I don’t mind it, I-- I like hearing you talk.”

“Oh.” Sylvie looks around, unsure of what to say. This Matt Casey guy, whoever he is, hasn’t run for the hills by now which is strange to say the least. But weirdly, it’s comforting.

“You’re right, you know,” he continues, switching the subject. “It sucks. Life… life sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agrees, letting out a small laugh. This makes Matt laugh a little, which makes Sylvie laugh even more, until they’re both smiling and giggling in a cemetery like a bunch of blushing lunatics. It’s quite possibly the weirdest thing Sylvie’s ever experienced and yet somehow, it’s exactly what she needed. A bright light in the vast sea of darkness.

“You’re smiling again, that’s a good sign.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Am I crazy for that? I mean, I’m smiling and laughing in a graveyard with somebody I just met. Isn’t that weird?”

“A little,” he admits with a shy laugh. “But you’re not crazy. Sometimes people need a little bit of weirdness in their lives.”

“I guess stranger things have happened,” Sylvie shrugs playfully.

“Yeah.” He flashes her another smile before turning his attention towards Julie’s grave and facing it with her. Sylvie stares at the marked stone. She fondly remembers the few memories she had with Julie, and the countless ones they never got around to. It’s unfortunate, really, but it feels more manageable with someone there. Even if it’s someone she barely knows. Matt stands with her for a moment, the peace and quiet taking over. It’s nice. Sylvie’s never had silence be so comforting; it’s always made her anxious and uncomfortable up until now. Matt sure is a puzzling guy in that sense. She sneaks a peek at him through the corner of her eye, this guy who’s supporting her even though they just met. He’s lost someone too, he could be going back to his father’s tombstone. Instead, he’s staying there with her. Sylvie decides at that moment that Matt Casey is an unfailingly kind, weirdly solid guy. And, admittedly, a little attractive. Ok, a lot attractive.

“Hey, and don’t worry,” she adds after a few minutes of silence, “about being like your father. We aren’t our parents. And you seem… good. That’s all you can ask for I guess, is to be one of the good ones.”

“Thanks,” he nods, his eyes filled with a bit of confusion and a bit of something else Sylvie can’t quite place. Wonder, almost.

Sylvie turns back to Julie’s grave, tracing over the words with her eyes. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so scary. Sylvie’s still sad, and wounds take time to scar over, but it doesn’t feel like she’s bleeding out anymore. She sighs, and she can sense the weight on her shoulders blowing away into the wind.

Unfortunately, when the sorrow blows away with the wind, it brings in the rain.

“Oh god,” Matt groans, wincing while looking up just on time to catch a raindrop in his eye. He squints and turns to Sylvie, who’s standing there laughing. “I didn’t see this in the weather forecast for today.”

“Me neither,” she giggles. “Today’s full of unexpected things, I guess.”

“It is.” He gives her a shy smile, nodding in agreement.

“Do you mind the rain?” She asks, looking up at the gloomy sky with a smile on her face.

“No,” he replies gently.

“Me neither.”

They stand there, hoods pulled away from their heads, letting the rain wash over them. There’s no shelter in sight anyway. They talk for a while about Chicago, about their lives, their friends, things that make them happy. But then they fall into a comfortable silence, smiling peacefully in the rain. Sylvie only moves a few times to brush raindrops off of the bouquet of flowers she’d placed at Julie’s grave. She looks at it, the name and the date etched in stone, and she doesn’t feel sick anymore. No questions unanswered, no bitterness. Her loss feels manageable.

She’s okay. More than okay.

“Hey, this might sound a little crazy, and I know we just met,” Matt starts after a while, “but would you want to… go get dinner or something?”

“What, like a date?” She snorts at her own joke, the idea being very nice in theory but impossible. It’s seriously impossible that this guy is actually asking her out, right?

“Er, yeah,” he nods. “Like a date.”

Oh. Okay, so he was asking her out. This is unfamiliar territory for Sylvie. She’s been asked out before, of course, by the small-town idiots in Fowlerton. But by an admittedly very good-looking stranger, under these circumstances no less? It’s a bit of a bizarre situation. That’s the crux of it, though. Matt Casey, whoever he is under all these sweet, charming layers, doesn’t feel like a stranger. Somehow, through one chance encounter, it feels like catching up with an old friend.

When she considers the facts, she’s had fun today. Every interaction they’ve had has come with such ease, and from a place of goodness and light. Yeah, maybe it’ll go absolutely nowhere. But one date in a public place won’t hurt her. She’s in Chicago for the rest of the weekend anyway. If anything, going out with someone like Matt Casey would do her a lot of good. And she hadn’t realized it until now but god, she really really wants to. So she does.

“I’d like that,” she finally replies while brushing rain off of her coat.

“Yeah?” He asks to make sure, his face lighting up with hope and slight excitement. Sylvie finds it adorable.

“Yeah,” she assures him.

He nods and grins excitedly as he leans in closer, and Sylvie feels the happiest she’s felt in a long time when he finally replies. “Me too.”

[nobody-knose--archive]

finally got around to listening to sketches 3d today and man! man! oh boy! liveblog under the cut!

-piano. exactly what i was expecting

-vibrato huh

-ayyy that's some. funky percussion

-this is like the fullerenes or something. a song about an Interesting Lady

-and there's that one grainy string synth/sample that andrew uses a lot & also appears in hawaii part ii

-more percussion. this is so cool

-i wasn't expecting this to be quite so minor key

-man if that was courtney on the flute there i think that'd be sick

-sing it andrew!

-i'm already having a more cheery time than i did with nat

-zubin???

-i will absolutely have to review that voice

-wait what the fuck is happening to her

-darling you good?

-anyway. classic andrew horowitz funky out-of-tune synths

-rattle rattle

-more out of tune piano. what song is this

-oh shit!!! this is the song my friends like

-tambourine <3

-you & me? sides of a coin? good & evil?

-so weird hearing all these lyrics i've seen in the song channel sung aloud for real

-andrew is doing some good singing here. he's good at carrying the melody on his own even though i've not heard much of that from him in the past save fate of the stars maybe

-he's always been good at that percussion

-all different types of percussion. tinny little gong like it's the whole world & you acoustic

-tambourine <3 <3

-so incredibly weird knowing what the lyrics are going to be without knowing what the song sounds like. i know how these words go in order but don't know how the melody carries them

-interesting thing about sketches so far. it's very strong & powerful but it doesn't block out the world like other new songs will. i'm not being taken somewhere else it's more like the whole rest of the world is being highlighted

-alright what's next?

-7/4 hummingbird????? or is this 6/4???

-no no no it's 5/4 and doing funky things with the onbeat i love this

-asking questions to a little creature is the best kind of pasttime and i mean that

-man andrew mixed this really well he's just. incredible at that

-he's making each song distnict while also giving sketches a clear theme

-a minor turn. i like that

-now what could this be?

-not lemons & pears yet?

-daisy fingers hell yes

-another song about a lady

-spoke mostly harmony oh you clever man

-thank you andrew for doing more with time signatures than tally hall ever did. first 5/4 and now 6/8

-the combination of very out of tune & rough percussions and incredibly beep bloopy synths is so cool

-conversations with a lady. this feels like a story of andrew visiting another world and being like "might as well write some songs about the fellows and stories round here"

-the whole album, i mean

-i am inspired by you, andrew

-this whole album is everything i could've hoped for and more

-the interesting thing about it is how few questions i find myself asking. i'm just looking at this stuff i have and being like wow! &, cool! not what i usually do with new albums

-divine inspiration bay be

-that's like. the opposite of an 80s fadeout

-oh that is absolutely the little sfx from the beginning of perfect at the end

-wait speaking of at the end

-no this is have a nice day interludinal

-is this a polyrhythm? there's a 4/4 type thing in the background and the foreground is. not on the onbeat i can say that much

-man i am going to have a nice day

-he's a good musician, able to make so much music out of a single interval

-lemons & pears!!!!

-toy orchestra my beloved that's the fuckin toy piano bay be wooooo

-but man oh boy does this sound absolutely different with only a one single guy singing

-ukulele in the bg? toy orchestra <3

-interesting being able to actually hear like. all of the lyrics for real

-some of the little riffs are gone and there are quite a many more

-hello?

-oh okay

-yeah i heard about the fucking gunshots that doesn't mean i was prepared for them

-the chorus sounds so nice i love this

-guest vocals?????????? whomst????????????

-who is this lady i'm so curious is she from the old toy orchestra? that'd be amazing

-breakdown time and it sounds so similar to the toy orchestra one. man

-at the end is. not the end of the album

-i think the thing that's getting me and not prompting as many questions is the fact that like. i hear these songs and hear tally hall songs. andrew's singing & i could hear this on a tally hall album with ease. it's strange

-i think the hi-hat and other little bits in this song, for example, reminds me of ross

-andrew's always tried hard at rock, and percussion is a massive part of that-wait he's scat singing i can finish that thought later i love this

-his songs are also very easy to sing along to without meaning to. first time hearing them and here i go

-anyway percussion is a massive part of rock, andy's always had an affinity for percussion, i think that's what's making me think of tally hall so much, or at least be. comfortably experiencing this in the same way i would a tally hall album

-i can't say the same of hawaii part ii

-if there's anywhere that lists the credits somewhere i'd like to see if ross worked on this at all but. i'm pretty sure he didn't

-where am i-oh shit a crowd

-nowhere else this is a song i think i know nothing about

-all that shit i was saying about rock percussion and now there's a whole entire drumkit going here

-alrighty

-that is not only andrew singing! again! who are you

-.....casey shea?????

-you sound like casey shea sir??????

-you are either casey shea or someone else who sounds like a beatle (affectionate, instead of derogatory)

-good guitar shit

-is that a third voice or does andrew just sound like that?

-madi diaz???

-i'm probably just guessing her because of the rendezvous but. there's gotta be someone more

-a whole lot of love going on here and i do appreciate it

-is it 80's fadeout time now? hell yeah

-oh yes the rainbow connection! a cover and the final song of the album (not counting the bonus tracks, which i will be listening to)

-i think i may have heard this before? or at least the minor rendition

-stylophone?

-humming. classic move

-theremin??

-music box is also cool. i swear i won't just be commentating on the instrumence alright

-what on earth is this sample in the background. steadily getting louder

-man andrew is a great singer. the consistent double vocals/heavy vibrato suits him well

-i will assume these are samples from like. the muppets movie

-does sketches (3d or otherwise) have a pdf like hwptii & nat? i sure hope so because i will enjoy looking at it

-vocalizing again let's a go

-more gong wahoo

-bonus track time <3

-tomorrow & today is a song i know pretty damn well i hope he's more legible now

-mostly the same as the 2011 version but it certainly is updated i can tell. more echo on these beginning lines

-piano is stronger. there may or may not be some added flairs. not a whole lot blatantly changed but i can say. i'll remove the 2011 version and replace it with this one for charlie

-there's a riff in my right ear that i don't remember and i like it

-this bit right here is more legible in general thank god it was incomprehensible originally

-the stomping percussion is Goin places

-and to end the whole song- you know yesterday fueled by a listen of nat i came up with an abundance of thoughts on writing styles in tally hall and especially how andrew's songs go places and what the journey's like and while that essay really won't fit into this liveblog i really enjoy how tomorrow & today has no destination in mind and it's a gradual trip but you never look back

-such strong g&e vibes

-misfortune bay be! time to replace the other misfortune charlie has with this

-sheet music???? jenny where did you find this? [referring to the image used in the video she uploaded i listened to] also this is still not the whole song i know the original misfortune wasn't but it feels strange to start this far into the song

-chords my beloved i could fucking play this song i'm so hyped about that

-toy orchestra solid soda real <3

-the one and only studio recording toy orchestra did. this is some of the best evidence for steve gallagher's voice we have

-also the audio is higher quality than the yt upload i think

-oh a casio organ not a real organ. okay i can't complain

-i like the sound of the piano at least. also this is horrendously gorey i like it

-andrew horowitz horror writer extraordinaire

-these sound like the sorts of drum synths my electric organ has

-i actually can't tell if that one's a guest vocal or andrew just being a very very good singer

-this sounds like some sort of recording you'd take of your kid's music school performance

-oh it's over

-fuck that was good

[gins-potter]

Chicago Fire 9x11 Thoughts

alright here we go with fire.

trying not to have high hopes for this episode because i've found the last few episodes a bit disappointing but everything i've heard about it so far sounds really good.

oh yessssssss instructor!severide. love that for us.

oh that dummy is fucked.

sylvie's side eye when grainger suggested declawing Veronicat. love that for her.

grainger kissing the scratch tho, kinda cute.

stella in braids!!!

love seeing sylvie be honest with herself about her relationship with grainger tho.

concerned sylvie!!!

okay either a). casey's headaches have not actually gone away and he's just lying about it or b). they have gone away but that's just a sign it's getting worse. i don't like either option.

okay why did we not hear anything about erik and ritter breaking up? why don't we get anything about their relationship? oh wait i know why-

oh fuck that arm looks fucking mangled.

i suspect the guy in the apron. he sus.

so not the point of this call but Captain Casey and PIC Brett are such a Look together.

"I got someone to set you up with" "OH.... no..." literally Daniel Kyri has the best comedic timing on this show.

GALLO PUT THE BREAD DOWN.

okay but herrmann trying to set ritter up with the only gay guy he knows is peak hilarious well-meaning ally and seeing as how it's one of the few times the show has acknowledged ritter's sexuality, i'm here for it.

DARDEN MENTION i'm crying.

look i always want more reference to pre-show stuff.

ofc the useless kid from the academy has a dad in the department.

lmao boden knows what's up.

or maybe the guy in the apron is the one who suspects it wasn't an accident.

i love rallo/rillo (what is their ship name anyway?) but anyway yeah i love them and that is all.

okay Gallo is definitely gonna fuck up this bread.

Stella why did you put a wrench in the oven?

ah ok that's why.

lmaooooooooo.

asdfghjkl casey enjoyed that way too much.

how does will know about veronicat? but i love that he does.

gallo is enjoying this whole thing with andy and ritter a little too much 👀👀👀

yes i know i'm reading too much into it, just let me have nice things.

oh that poor bread.

sylvie just gave him such a disappointed mum look. i fucking love that.

ok i'm back to sussing apron dude.

love me some supportive stellaride.

CONCERNED SYLVIE.

oh jesus andy that's a terrible first impression. this is gonna go so badly.

OMFG GO FUCKING OFF RITTER.

ADAM!

i love him so fucking much.

well hello grainger.

they are actually kinda cute together (don't hate me i'm still a mad brettsey shipper).

oh shit mercer. what the fuck did you do?

severide's going in without a mask? that's seriously badass.

okay but mercer looks like such a scared puppy dog. i almost almost feel sorry for him.

CONCERNED SYLVIE.

can you tell i love it?

MATTHEW STOP BEING DUMB.

ERIK!

i literally always forget that we met Erik once before (we did meet him once before right?)

either way I'm happy he's back.

my heart.

can't believe we didn't get a kiss there tho. this is homophobia. literally.

OH MY GOD BLAKE MADE HER BREAD DOUGH.

oof daddy coming in to defend his son. big macho man.

oh my god did the muffin man dose the muffin?!?!?!?!

side note: violet and sylvie are such a good paramedic duo already.

how many old friends has boden lost at this point?

also why did severide just loose his cool a lil bit.

adam serving up looks as usual.

WAIT WHAT?

IT'S THE WIFE?

probs shoulda seen that one coming.

god i love severide.

viollo (is that their ship name?) are so competitive with each other. i kinda love it.

taking credit for erik and ritter getting back together is peak herrmann tho.

going from a stellaride kiss to a brettsey scene? i see you writers. i see you.

he sounds so worried SOMEONE HUG HIM.

brettsey theme???

SHE'S GONNA GO WITH HIM I'M FUCKING CRYING GUYS

okay this episode was so good now i'm gonna go cry in a corner because matthew fucking casey and sylvie fucking brett own my motherfucking heart.

[beerecordings]

hey!!! i'd love to see more with the favored puppet au, that's always been one of my favorite concepts. maybe at a point where chase feels apathy in the face of anti, his caretaker, being a bad person? or something from before, when anti decided chase was worrying him and he didn't want to play the games anymore? :'D ty ty

Favored Puppet AU (Chase): After stalking, haunting, and toying with Chase for years, Anti eventually realized it was no longer fun to play with him while his suffering was so high. Instead, Anti kidnapped Chase and keeps him away from the world as its companion. Chase has learned to be alright with that. The human world, after all, was never very kind to him.

Triggers for heavy discussions of Chase’s past suicide attempts and depression and Chase trying to cut himself again, though he doesn’t succeed. Also might be considered soft!Anti, though Chase is the only one it’s soft for.

Florence I decided to combine that first prompt (Chase feeling apathy when Anti’s being awful) with another prompt so you will see that later! for this one I decided to do that moment where Anti decided he didn’t want to play games anymore. thank you for sending them my dude!! also this is my first time writing for this au so the mythology is really experimental but I just tried to do something new with Anti :) it’s very inhuman and doesn’t really understand Chase, but it decides it wants him, so...

.

It sits on top of his refrigerator and watches him have his first meal of the day, a depression snack at nine at night compromised almost entirely of the last crumbs in an old bag of Cheetos. The skinny little human creature – though Anti’s seen him staring at his shirtless torso in the mirror enough times to know he’s only growing more dissatisfied with his softening stomach and arms – throws his head back and dumps the rest of the crisps into his mouth, getting orange dust all over his unkempt beard. Anti giggles at the sight of him. Clown boy with his Cheeto dust and the bags under his eyes. Little human thing. Too small and silly even to be able to die. Goofy, stupid human. Slouching, miserable child.

But if there is one thing Anti enjoys about the human, it is his fierce, hateful courage. At first, the laughter in the edges of his hearing sent chills up the boy’s spine and made him turn around with wild eyes, spitting and gnashing his blunt mortal teeth, but now, after months of being haunted, he does nothing except turn around and glare.

Anti is invisible on his refrigerator, but the human – what is his name? Charles, Casey, something – he still tries to find it. He has eyes made to burn, blue as flame, though, to be perfectly fair, fire can be as much a source of life as the bitter weapon Casey makes with his gaze now.

He used to be warm. Anti remembers. He would stutter when the girl came to see him and he carried those little chips with him, rubbing them in his pocket when he passed the liquor store, and his children were all he thought about. But he’s changed. Anti watched it happen. For whatever reason, the girl stopped bringing the children by at all, and at some point the pain of it must have overwhelmed the man, and Anti watched him embrace old habits with a ferocity only describable as self-harm. After his second suicide attempt – that was the only time Anti let Casey see it, standing over him and staring at the crimson of his blood in the bathtub while the man screamed for it to kill him already, shrieking in despair as Anti picked up his phone from the bathroom counter and dialed 911, giggling at the thought of just how powerful his despair would be when he woke up in the hospital – he removed his children from the background of that phone and replaced it with a stock image of the ocean provided to him by Apple’s recommendation.

The light slid out of his eyes at some point. Anti was there. It watched the whole thing.

It enjoyed the whole thing. Mostly.

“Fucking kill me, then, bitch,” hisses Casey, slinking through his own kitchen like he’s being hunted. He is. “Playing games with me, always, well, I’m tired of playing, you know that, I’m tired… fucking kill me then, not afraid of you, not afraid…”

This is also true. Anti’s pretty sure the only reason he moved back to America was to make sure none of his friends would be in the way of the creature who haunts him finally finishing the job. And to stop them from telling him “you need to get help, you’re talking to the voices in your head and seeing things, it’s not real, you need to see a specialist” in an endless carousel of concern and – as Casey always perceived it – condescension.

“Fucking kill me!” he screams, slamming his hand down on his counter. He shatters a pile of unwashed dishes on accident and blood comes pooling up hot and coppery in the lines of his palm, but Casey doesn’t even look down, doesn’t even flinch, just keeps staring straight forward with fire eyes as wild as a horse’s.

But Anti’s bored with him. It hops down from the fridge and wanders through the apartment, whistling. In the kitchen, it hears the man howling as the whistling returns to torment him, the monster’s singing following him for hours and hours every day, never letting him sleep.

Anti used to think it was really funny, that something as simple as a whistled lullaby could make the man shatter in half and sob like his heart was broken open in his hands.

But honestly?

It’s less fun these days.

“Music, music, music,” rants the human in the kitchen, slamming his palm down again and again, cutting open his palm again, again. There’s banging on the walls and muffled yelling. The neighbors are sick of his screaming. He’ll be evicted soon, Anti reckons. Humans used to travel in packs, making it harder to pick them off, but these days ones like Casey often find themselves alone, and no one is around to stand up for him. “I’ll make you stop, I’ll make you shut up, shut up, shut up….”

Anti lets the human sprint past it and retreat to his bedroom, crawling under the bed and taking his laptop with him. He puts on big earphones and presses them hard against his ears, and he rocks himself as his music plays, turned up to one hundred on his computer, mumbling to himself, laughing sometimes, if Anti listens closely enough.

Anti crouches down to look at him. It hums to itself and touches Casey’s face, and he shrivels in on himself and whimpers, but he does not fight or push it away. Not anymore.

He used to be so much more fun before he started to crumble instead of break.

And yet, Anti has not killed him.

It does not know why.

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

When bored – these days, it often is – Anti likes to wander through the other apartments that surround its own. Watching the human sleep can only be entertaining for so long, even if it does like to hear his sleepy, thick breathing and see his peaceful, dopey face, and it’s nice to just roam sometimes. Anyway, the people nearby can be interesting, though Anti doesn’t mess with them the way it does Casey. No one else has ever been that entertaining.

A young couple lives to their right, newly-married with a little rat of a dog they call Barkley. Anti’s human likes most dogs, but he grew tired a long time ago of the shrieking yips through the walls. Anti itself doesn’t mind it so much. One more thing to annoy the human on his slow road to madness.

“Who’s the best boy in the world?”

It passes by their door and hears them cooing and praising the yelping thing. “Are you a good boy, Barkley? Who’s my good little boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

Barkley has been sick for a few days and their fussing over him has been endless as they clean the nasty little animal up after every time it vomits, carefully feeding it vet-recommended dog food and plenty of healthy human snacks whenever Barkley shows an interest. How anyone could care to look after a creature so pathetic and useless is well beyond Anti, but it thinks it’s funny, really. Humans will bow down to pet the lowest of creatures.

I am not like that, it thinks to itself, drifting through the door, invisible. It is important for me to not be like that.

Anti had never had an interest in pets before this year, but, increasingly, it likes to come over and watch them look after Barkley. Constantly it reminds itself – I am not like that. It is important for me to not be like that.

But it doesn’t understand why this is important or why it should not be like that. Truthfully, it has never been skilled with its own emotions. It does as it pleases and what makes it happy makes it happy. If there is depth to that, it isn’t interested.

“Okay, Barkley baby, mommy and daddy are going to go for a walk and be right back in a few.”

“Aww, poor baby, we know. You wanna come on our walk and see all the other puppies along the way, but you can’t go while your belly’s all grumpy!”

“Yeah, little Barkley can’t come today, but mommy and daddy will be right back.”

“Mommy and daddy will be right back, we promise.”

They shower the dog in pets and belly rubs as they baby-talk their way towards the door, blowing it kisses as they head out and lock the door behind them.

“Do you think we should check on this guy here who’s so loud sometime?”

“What, that Chase guy? Are you kidding me? What a creep. He’s so fucking loud. We’re going to have to complain to the landlord again. Guy’s out of his mind.”

Ah, yes, Chase, that’s his name. Slipping into their apartment like a ghost, Anti laughs at the human fickleness and leans down to tweak the little dog’s tail, making it yelp in alarm and start running in circles around the apartment. It giggles and spends some time chasing it and leading it around with its chew toys and such. It likes the way it can make the dog do anything. It likes the cute little dog even if it is such a disgusting, purposeless, stupid little animal. It coos and picks the puppy up, tickling its skinny little ribs and rubbing between its ears.

“Stupid puppy,” it manages to say, in its painful, broken voice. Human language has always been difficult for it, but it prides itself on understanding it well. One day maybe it will speak it clearly too, though for now it knows it would sound like a struggling, glitching machine to a real human. “Stupid baby doggy.”

Faint laughter reaches its sharp ears and it quiets, setting the dog back down. For a moment, only silence, and it crouches in the living room with its black eyes boring into the universe, motionless.

Then it hears raucous laughter as the window in the back of the apartment is pried open and a pair of much, much more pathetic creatures than itself or even this little dog crash their way into the couple’s home. It straightens up, shaking its head, and heads back towards the back room, where a baby’s nursery is beginning to develop. Above the cradle, a pair of imps stop short, staring at Anti as they hover, startled, in mid-air.

Wearing its human’s form, it puts its hands on its hips and waits for them to speak.

They begin to laugh again, loud and boisterous, spit flying out of the one’s mouth while the second’s eyes bulge with hilarity.

“A fairy in California?” The imp rolls in circles in the air, shrieking with laughter. “Who would have thought?”

“Little far from home, Mr. Potatohead,” quips the second, floating up to the ceiling, sneering and sticking out its little purple tongue. Anti’s mouth curls distastefully. “Why don’t you go back to your hunts and your parades, your highness?”

“How’d it get here without getting stuck behind all that running water?”

“Careful, pure-blood, this spoon looks like it might be made out of iron!”

They dissolve into maniacal impling laughter, rocking through the air, shape-shifting in the limited ways they can to make themselves look uglier. If it were the sort of fairy who gave a fuck, Anti supposes it would feel disrespected, but it doesn’t much care. They’re little annoyances who have clearly mistaken it for a much less powerful creature than it really is. They break the monotony for a moment. It’ll kill them in a second. Anti supposes they just came here to make trouble. Imps love break into human homes and stealing their food or making their milk go rotten. They may well have been the ones who made Barkley sick, just to watch the humans take care of the dumb little thing for their entertainment. They’re common in this part of the city because the mountains are close, and imps are snuffling, stupid little creatures of the earth.

“Ew, what’s that?” squawks the first imp, floating closer to it. “Do you smell it?”

“Yuck. His majesty stinks like a human.”

“Just like a fairy to keep a pet.”

“Aw, do you have a widdle human to look after?”

“Maybe we should pay a visit to your stinky little human.”

“Yeah, maybe it needs some company.”

“Some friends.”

“Someone to play a couple fun games with.”

“And then we can find out what it is that made Tinkerbell here go all soft in the middle, like a rotten – ”

But they never get to find out exactly what rotted thing Anti resembles. It snatches the imp out of the air in one snapping motion like the bite of a snake and crushes its body between its fingers, its eyes turning black as the juices run down its wrist.

In its fear, the other imp does not even scream. Its eyes bulge in alarm and it scrambles for the window, but it never makes it. Barkley yelps in victory, chasing his own tail around as Anti’s teeth come down around the meaty little imp and tear it to pieces, silencing the both of the little monsters, leaving nothing behind.

It’ll be picking that out of its teeth for a week, it muses, wandering back out of the apartment and towards its own. But that’s what they get for talking about Chase like that.

It’s odd, though, how it makes it pause and think. That is something other spirits do sometimes, isn’t it? Take a human and keep it as a pet.

The couple with the dog are returning from their walk, holding slushies and each other’s hands.

“Barkley!” they coo, greeting their excited dog at the door. “Are you a good boy? Oh, why are you shaking, baby boy? What a silly little puppy you are. Who’s a cutie? Are you a good boy? You just want a big hug, huh, you just want to be looked after. Mwah, mwah.”

It’s kind of a cute dog, in the end.

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

It liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it.

It liked the way his eyes changed. He was not afraid – Chase is a creature of courage and despair, and these, in Anti’s experience, are both flowers from the same root – but he was distressed. Anti would say that this was because the form he takes is such a disturbingly odd impression of a human that it scared the human, but, truthfully, he thinks he saw a sort of awe in Chase’s eyes that day as well.

He loves fiction. This is one thing it learned about Chase early on. He does not have a reputation for intelligence but he does love his fantasy escapism, or he did back when he still had the energy for things like interests and hobbies. He liked Gravity Falls and Doctor Who and anything with sci-fi or dragons and he would get stuck at bookstores every now and then just walking through the YA section and wishing he was still young enough to enjoy them as much as he used to. In the old days, human storytellers were vital parts of their social structure. Anti thinks Chase would have been a storyteller, in his own way, if this were a few hundred years ago. Maybe he would be happier then.

It does not know when it began wondering about Chase’s happiness. Do not ask it.

The point is that Anti liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it, that day he tried to kill himself.

“No,”  he shook his head as Anti took his phone and called for an ambulance. “No.”

But his eyes were looking at something beyond life and death, something he had only read about in books, and Anti did not understand it.

It thinks, now, that Chase was looking at something he had longed for when he was younger. But Anti does not know what. There are fairytales about prophetic heroes and novels about chosen ones and tv shows where fantastical creatures whisk people away on great adventures, but Anti is not a fantasy. Anti is a nightmare. This is something Chase has always known, and Anti has always known, and there should be no misunderstanding between them.

But it liked the way Chase looked at him, that one time it allowed him to see it. That’s all. That’s all it’s saying. It doesn’t mean anything. It is not like that. It’s important that it’s not like that.

Anti touches the human’s face. He has fallen asleep beneath his bed, and his breathing is clear and deep, rhythmic as the song of a bird.

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

Chase sleeps for fourteen hours and then gets up to make a Cup-o’-Noodles. Beef flavored. It’s the only thing left in the pantry except half a jar of strawberry jam and some milk he was too drunk to put in the fridge a couple days ago, spoiled completely by now. Even the cheap rum he’s been buying is out on the table beside the stove. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed and he cuts a pathetically small figure standing over the stove in nothing but some gym shorts and rolled-up Christmas socks because everything else needs to be washed.

Anti roams the apartment, humming distantly and checking up on things. It deletes an unread message on Chase’s phone from contact name “Marv” and waters the succulent Chase picked up on an impulse last week. It’s so funny to it how attached the human can get to things, and so quick too. He once found a bee on the windowsill, brought it sugar water, and looked after it for several hours before letting it outside. The human put on his loudest comedy show afterwards to try and keep himself cheerful, but he’d ended up crying about halfway through, and Anti couldn’t tell if it was related to the bee or not. He’s always crying. He didn’t always used to be crying. He used to be less deep in his despair and much more fun to play with.

Anti shakes the thoughts off and decides to prove that Chase is still fun to play games with. There’s nothing deep about their relationship, Chase just happens to be entertaining. That’s the only reason it followed him all the way from Ireland. It floats towards the kitchen, silent and invisible. It’ll give him a quick scare, not enough to put him off his dinner, just enough to remind him he should still be fighting. Anti shape-shifts cleanly into a small boy with black hair and deep onyx eyes and goes to stand behind Chase, silent and still, staring up at the child’s father as he stirs the noodles in silence.

“I know you’re behind me,” he says after a moment. “Looking like Hunter.”

Anti startles and shivers back into invisibility, drawing away. Chase turns blearily to see that it’s gone and he laughs, deep and hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, stumbling a little as he tilts back his rum. Anti knows he’s already drunk from the calmness in his tired voice. “Used to your tricks by now. You been getting to know me, I know. I been getting to know you too.”

He snorts to himself and leans back against the stove, seeming to forget his noodles. He squints blearily around the room, rubbing at his eyes. He hasn’t put his contacts in since the last time he tried to kill himself. Wanted to make sure he cut the veins, but after he survived that night, it didn’t much matter if he could see or not.

“I think I can sort of tell when you’re close, most of the time,” he adds. Anti sits at the dining table across the room, frowning. “Like… I can feel you. Or something. See you, maybe. I think you make things… a different color. Does that make sense?”

He points sluggishly towards the dining table and then shrugs, letting his hand drop again.

“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

His pot is boiling over. The water will burn his hands in a moment, resting as they are against the edge of the stove. Chase laughs to himself again, shaking his head, and throws back the rum for so long that he’s panting when he’s done with the drink.

“Funny,” he says. “Would have almost liked for you to be there. As Hunter, I mean. See my baby one more time. My baby. Hunter, my son…”

His eyes trail far away. Anti doesn’t think he’s looking at anything at all. There’s nothing left for him to look at.

Water cascades across the stove, boiling. Chase whimpers as it hits his hands, but he doesn’t pull away.

Something yanks him back.

He stumbles away from the stovetop. Drunk, he can’t keep his balance, and he goes crashing to the ground, falling on his back and dropping his bottle, which shatters into pieces of glass and a small flood of rum across the kitchen floor. Chase gasps, grabbing at his bruised elbow, staring around for a sight of the monster that has haunted him for so long.

The pot of noodles goes spinning off its stovetop onto the other side of the stove and stops boiling after a moment, quieting the kitchen. The knob on the oven flicks to ‘off’ and the red light disappears from the stovetop, leaving it dark and silent.

Chase closes his eyes.

Anti stares at him and it knows, in the moment, that the human was not lying.

He can sense it.

He can tell it’s there.

“Why,” croaks Chase. “Did you call 911 that night?”

Anti steps back from him. His movement shifts glass on the floor with a faint clinking noise.

“Was this what you wanted?” Chase whispers. “Just to see me live like this a little while longer? Just to make sure I couldn’t get away that easy? Was killing myself too good for you? Are you ever going to actually finish me off?”

He is crying. He is always crying.

This isn’t fun anymore, Anti realizes. It isn’t funny.

And honestly –

Honestly…

Honestly, it doesn’t know why it called 911.

“I think that’s what I’ve actually been waiting for,” laughs Chase, sobbing as tears run down his reddened cheeks. “Fuck. Not even staying alive waiting for it, that’s not what I mean, I mean… like I haven’t killed myself because I’ve been waiting for you to do it.”

He throws his head back and cries and laughs and hugs himself with his burned hands and scarred wrists, his whole body shuddering with the tears.

“But you won’t,” he sobs into the darkness, as Anti’s presence draws away from him and the sun fades. “You won’t. Will you? No one will give me any mercy. No one wants me to have any fucking peace. So tired… You won’t…”

Anti retreats to his room.

It doesn’t want to face him right now.

He doesn’t want to face him right now.

Chase cries in the kitchen for a long time, until his whole body feels tired and numb and drained. He doesn’t clean up the glass. He doesn’t clean up the rum. He doesn’t clean up the water. He would probably have slept right there on the wooden floor of his kitchen, but the doorbell rings.

Too drunk to put himself together, he staggers to the door and throws it open to the cold, red-eyed and stumbling like a zombie.

“Uh,” says the delivery kid, fixing her alarmed expression after a moment. “Here’s your food, sir.”

Chase is too confused even to question. Almost dazed by it, he takes the bag of take-out carefully from her hands, thanks her in a mumble, and shuts the door behind him.

KFC.

Did he order this?

No, he was making ramen before he made a mess of it. But it’s what he always gets. Chicken tenders and mashed potatoes and a couple extra biscuits for the next morning.

In his bedroom, Anti closes out of the delivery app and drops his phone onto the bed, deleting one more message from Marv before it drifts past Chase and goes wandering, thinking, roaming, lost.

It’s not like that… it’s important that it’s not. It’s not like that.

Zayn and Mary are walking Barkley. Anti watches the happy little dog go yipping and dancing in the space between them, happy and safe and recovering, cared for by his masters.

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

The apartment fills with soft light in the evenings. White and gold from the weary sun. When it hits the horizon, the gold pirouettes and falls apart into a dozen different watercolors across the long shoulders of the sky. Pouring patiently through the windows, like syrup from the bark of a great dark tree.

Anti sits beside Chase’s bed and watches him sleep, playing slowly with his hair.

It likes Chase’s hair. It always has. Soft and dark but sometimes golden in the sunlight, and ever-so-slightly curly, so you can wrap it around your finger if you’re gentle, and make it spring back again afterwards.

Anti wants to kill something. It doesn’t know what. A human, probably, but not Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase. It had forgotten how much it likes that name.

You like a lot of things about him, it lets itself realize. When did that happen? When the fuck did that happen? One day you’re making him having a repeated dream where he’s carefully cut into pieces and eaten alive by a sentient crocodile because he always got scared of the one in Peter Pan when he was a child and the next you’re thinking about how soft his hair is. It makes Anti laugh, for a moment, but it thinks it feels… sad. It doesn’t know why.

Chase wakes up and it drifts back into invisibility, leaving him to sit up and look around. Check his phone for the time and stare at the floor for a while. Today he is groggy, but not sad, which strikes Anti as odd. Most days he is groggy and sad. Sad groggy stupid human. Anti’s sad groggy stupid hurting human. It sighs and spins lazily in the air, watching Chase push himself up on his feet, his eyes dead and weary.

Someone slams on their door and Chase groans, rubbing at his forehead. He’s hungover again.

“Brody!” The slamming insists. Chase stutters out a breath, slightly frightened, and totters to the door, pulling it open.

It’s his landlord. Anti’s lips curl up in a snarl. A mean, stupid man, stupider than Chase, even, and he looks angry.

And he starts to shout at Chase, and Anti does not like it. It doesn’t interfere, but it doesn’t like it either, and it knows Chase will do nothing. He stands there shirtless in his Christmas socks and stares at his landlord like he can’t believe any of this is real – not because it’s rare for him to be in trouble, just because his life is an alley puddle full of cigarettes and bathing rats and he’s most likely dissociating – and just nods when he’s told to get his act together and pipe the fuck down before he gets kicked out.

“Yes,” says Chase. “Okay.”

The landlord leaves.

Chase shuts the door behind him and looks directly at Anti, invisible on the ceiling above him.

“Jokes on him,” he says dully. “He’ll have to be the one to clean my blood out of the bathtub.”

Anti blinks. Chase pauses, letting his head rest against the cool wall for a moment before he pushes himself back up and wanders back towards his bedroom.

“What you will do?” asks Anti.

Chase startles so hard he slams into the wall of the hallway, whirling around to look at him. Unnerved by his response, Anti scowls and backs away again.

“Sorry, did you just talk to me?” asks Chase. “It’s a dream, then? Or did you talk to me in real life? Or am I really losing it finally? I mean, worse than I have already.”

Anti grumbles to itself and gets up in the fan, making the blades spin slowly, sulking. Can’t even talk to the human without him freaking out.

“Must still be drunk,” mumbles Chase, retreating back to his room.

Anti gets up and follows him.

“What, are you worried?” snaps Chase, digging under the bed, and Anti grins at the heat he’s showing again. That’s more like it. “Haunt me for, what, eight months and now you’re worried? I know you’re there, asshole.”

Anti lets him hear it giggling. Chase rolls his eyes and then he gives a short laugh, shaking his head.

Anti feels pleased, it thinks. Chase turns to look at him. He can’t see him, but he knows it’s there. Anti likes that.

“You really are a monster,” says Chase softly, smiling at it.

And then Anti sees, in his hand, the little tin where he keeps his razor blades.

Anti’s mouth falls in a frown.

Chase looks up into the sunset. Orange and gold, tonight. Flowing over his hair and into his eyes, making them alight. Fire eyes. Fire Chase.

“I hated you for a long time,” says Chase. “But you’re either a monster or the part of my brain that really wants to hurt me, so I guess either way I shouldn’t blame you for being what you are.”

He stands up, straighter than he has in a long time, still fixated on that sunset.

“I… I’ll miss…”

Anti stares at him, waiting, but Chase never finishes his sentence. After a long moment, he turns and takes his phone off of his bed. A slow, shaky breath escapes him.

He always takes his calls between the hallway and the living room so he can pace. Anti knows. Anti knows everything about him. Anti knows things about him he doesn’t know about himself. Anti likes things about him he doesn’t like about himself.

The human steps into the hallway and opens his contacts, carefully picking a name he hasn’t picked in long months, and he closes his eyes, and he waits.

But no one answers. Chase lets out a soft, miserable laugh, gripping the phone in both hands.

“Ah, damn… ha. Sorry, Schneep, I was really hoping you’d pick up.”

He circles quietly in the hallway, running his hands through his hair, his eyes closed and that phone held up to his ear, trying to breathe even instead of weeping.

“Look, man, um. I know we fell apart. Honestly, I really needed you, and you were just too busy for me, and that stung, it did. Maybe it was selfish, but I just… I needed you, Schneep. And I felt like all you cared about was the research, and…”

He rubs his face, brushing away tears. Anti stands at the end of the hall, staring.

“Well, I didn’t call you to accuse you of anything. I just wanted you to know that, um, even though we both hurt each other… I always loved you, man. And I don’t got the courage to call Jacks or Marv, okay, but I love them too. I love them too. And I’m sorry. Cause I was a coward for running away from them, and… maybe you needed me even more than I needed you, and I couldn’t even see it. So I just want you to know: you were my best friend. And I’m really sorry I couldn’t pull you out of your head and that I couldn’t help, or didn’t try hard enough, or just that I wasn’t what you needed. And I…”

Anti sees Chase close his eyes and breathe.

“And I hope I’m not one more person you spend the rest of your life wishing you could have saved,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault, Henrik. I love you. Good night, buddy. Maybe someday – ”

The voicemail beeps. End of recording.

Chase lets out a hurting breath and sets his phone down. His eyes are fixed on the rising sunlit moon, past his window.

“Maybe someday I’ll see you again,” he says.

He goes into the bathroom and crawls into the tub.

And Anti – Anti is paralyzed in the hallway, staring at him, invisible.

But Chase can sense it. Chase can sense him. He looks back at him, his face – fuck, so familiar now, like Anti knows every line of it, every shadow – and says nothing.

Something in Anti cries out against it.

Don’t let him do this. Don’t let him do this.

But another part – oh, another part recognizes what has happened. It has grown attached to this human despite all odds, despite everything. And attachments are dangerous and stupid and useless, just like this little mortal curled up in his white bathtub, holding a razor, staring at it. This is Anti’s chance to let Chase break the attachment. This is its chance to stop this before it goes too far. Before it actually does decide that it likes Chase, that it wants him, that it should keep him, that he loves him in his own fucked-up way.

So it steps back.

It won’t stop Chase.

Let him go. Let him go. It’s better this way. He was just supposed to be entertainment. There was never supposed to be an attachment. So now Chase can die and Anti can leave and they can go their separate ways, and everything in Anti’s life will return to normal. It will go back to Ireland and find something new to do, someone new to torment. And everything will be okay.

It doesn’t stop Chase.

But Chase –

Chase –

“No,” he whispers to himself, gripping the blade. “Please.”

Chase can’t bring himself to do it.

“No!” he screams, lashing himself once, but it hurts and he hates it and he wants it to stop and it’s not like the other times he’s tried to kill himself, not at all. There’s no numbness. There’s no comfort.

He doesn’t want to die.

“Please!” he howls, gripping his own wrists. “Please!”

He’s begging himself. End it. Finish it. Stop it, let me go.

He’s begging the universe. No more. No more, please.

He’s begging Anti.

He’s begging Anti with everything he has.

He turns his eyes to it and he’s screaming, and there’s blood on his wrists, and the glowing moon is like the eye of a god staring down at them, and Anti is illuminated in its light, visible in the shape of a man, visible in a shape like Chase’s, and Chase is begging him –

“Don’t make me live like this any longer!”

Anti turns and flees.

Chase is howling like a shot dog, holding his own shoulders, unable to kill himself, because he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want Henrik to get that voicemail, he doesn’t want to never see the sun again, he doesn’t want to go, he isn’t ready, but he can’t live like this any longer, and he’s never felt more hopeless in his life, and he still doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die.

Don’t make me live like this any longer.

Why can’t he end it?

He’s so drunk and so tired and he thought he wanted to die, he really thought he did. No, no, not… oh, he needs somebody, he needs something, he needs something to change. Henrik. He wants Henrik, wants Jackie, wants Marv. He’s staggering to his feet, trying to get up, trying to get back to his phone –

He slips in his Christmas socks and in his own blood, and he crashes down hard in his bathtub, and lies still.

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

“Oh, no, oh, fuck,” Anti hears him whimpering as he comes awake. “How much did I fucking have? Stupid, stupid…”

It stands in the hallway, pacing, its eyes set on the ground. It is determined now. It has decided.

“Oh, shit! Oh.” There’s a nervous laugh from Chase as he notices the shallow cut on his arm. “Oh, wow, I… I must have tried to… but I didn’t! I didn’t, wow…”

There’s an awe in his voice that hasn’t been there for a long time.

Is it… pride?

“I didn’t kill myself,” Anti hears him whispering. “I didn’t… didn’t kill myself. Or I just passed out before I could, but either way, pretty impressive for a fucking idiot like me.”

Anti retreats back to his room and begins to pack the human’s things up, taking only what’s immediately necessary. It doesn’t care about the personal effects, but there are some things they will need – some clothes, his hygiene products, shoes, medicine. He places the succulent gently on top and zips it into place as an added present.

It can hear Chase wandering around the house, apparently dazed by his own survival, or maybe just still drunk from the night before. Anti shuts his phone down remotely and doesn’t let it turn back on when Chase scrabbles at the power button, mumbling about his friends back in England. Anti doesn’t know where the sudden interest in them after months of deleting pictures and ignoring calls has come from, but it doesn’t care.

Here are the facts, in its mind:

Chase survived last night.

It has grown attached to him.

Because he did not kill himself, it can’t escape the fact that it’s grown… fond of the human.

The human survived one night, but Anti has watched him through a great deal of ups and downs, and it knows that Chase will be suicidal again soon enough, and then he might not survive.

Anti does not want to watch him die.

And so the conclusion it came to last night, watching over the boy as he lay in that tub, gently curling his hair between its fingers, was this –

Chase will be its, and Chase will not die.

It has a great satisfaction with this plan now, more than it thought possible. After months of boredom, finally, finally! Something that makes it excited again, something that makes it feel – well – happy!

Chase is still playing with his phone. Anti steps back into the hallway and sees him frowning down at it, pressing on the power button a few times in a row, looking unhappy.

“Did I call him, or…? Need to tell him I’m okay or he’ll – ahh!”

Chase screams aloud at the sight of Anti standing in the hallway with his backpack on. Anti frowns as he goes tumbling to the floor in his alarm, groaning from the whiplash in an already concussed head.

“You’re – you’re showing yourself to me?” gasps Chase, scrambling away. “What’s – are you going to kill me? What’s going on? Hey, stay away!”

But Anti is moving forward, a smile already on its face. This is perfect! This is perfect! It could howl! It could shout! The man is looking at it again, just like he did that night he tried to kill himself, the night that Anti saved his life, and there is the change in his eyes, the recognition, and Anti feels seen and known and in control all over again, and everything is good, everything is perfect.

“What are you doing?” demands Chase, his hands reaching out to protect himself. A fighter, yes, just like Anti always saw. Small and weak and mortal and foolish, yes, but also courageous, courageous, always something special about him. Anti always knew. It grabs Chase’s wrist and pulls him to his feet, humming to itself, singing the old lullaby it always used to haunt him with.

“No, stop, I hate that!” screams Chase, trying to cover his ears, trying to yank away from him. “Stop it, let me go!”

He’s such a pretty little human, even if he is built so scrawny. Anti likes his dark hair and his fire eyes and his soft stomach and even his stupid tattoos, just because they’re his and he’s so goofy, silly human creature. It’s all familiar to him now. The boredom that it thought it was feeling all this time it now sees was a secret fear of the truth that it was becoming attached to him. But last night woke it up to the realization that it did not want to see the boy die and it’s so pleased that he decided to live. In a way, the human was deciding to stay with it! Everything is good. It wrangles Chase’s other wrist and begins to drag him towards the door, unbothered by the sound of his shouting, which is little more than white noise to Anti after so long spent following Chase.

“No, no! Help me, someone help!” he cries.

Someone pounds on the walls of the apartment. A muffled “can you shut the fuck up for once in your life?” makes its way through the plaster. Chase sobs, tearing at Anti’s hands, his eyes wild and desperate. Anti keeps humming.

It will set him up somewhere just as good as this stupid little apartment. Better even. Bigger and less worn. And it will teach Chase to take better care of it too, so he doesn’t make such a mess like he always does. It will give him things he hasn’t even realized he wants yet. It will give him his little succulent back and he will take care of it. Humans need things to take care of or they get very sad and they die sometimes – that’s the thing about humans, they can get so sad they can die, and it’s no longer fun for Anti to watch, so it will get Chase things to take care of instead. What do humans like to take care of? Cows? Hamsters? Potatoes? Whatever he wants.

It takes Chase’s keys and drags him out to his car, opening the door and letting all of Chase’s trash litter onto the street. Its foot crunches on garbage as it pushes its human inside, chirping politely at him when he struggles and gently blocking him from escaping, keeping him pressed inside the car. When Chase tries to lunge forward past it, Anti shoves him against the glass and makes him yelp, clutching at its aching head. Whoops! It pulls back quickly and pats his cheek, checking the bruise and patting Chase’s head. It will take some time to learn the boundaries for touching the human, but it will learn. It keeps him carefully inside until the human has gone breathless and shaky and realizes he can’t get out right now. Satisfied, Anti gets into the car beside him and starts the engine.

Oh, no, wait. One more thing it wants to do.

Anti sets Chase’s apartment on fire, whistling its song to itself as it disables the alarms and leaves a few rags beginning to spread the fire from the oven to the counters. Fuck that landlord who yelled at him. Now the other humans will probably think he died in the fire or something and not come looking for him. Not that they could find him if they tried. Anti leaves the apartment smoking and gets back into the car, chirping and purring to itself, too excited to care that it’s acting like a youngling on its first Samhain.

The human stares at the road as they begin to move, shell-shocked and trembling. Eventually his eyes flicker over to Anti, and it can see that he isn’t sure if he should be angry or terrified or just numb to all of this, numb to everything.

Numb is what he settles on. Numb and a little weepy, anyway. Anti coos and reaches out to touch the human’s neck, rubbing warmly at his soft skin.

Chase curls in on himself, shirtless and shivering in the seat of his own car, kidnapped and alone, and he begins to cry very softly.

There’s blood on his arm. He’s tired. He’s hungover. He’s still struggling with the desire to die despite surviving the night before. He thinks he left Henrik a weird voicemail. The monster that’s been haunting him for years has just appeared in the flesh and thrown him out of his apartment. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He just wants everything to stop.

He just wants this to stop.

The monster repeats its cooing noise at his side, still petting at his neck and throat. Chase shudders and cries, rocking himself gently in the seat, wishing for his headphones. Anti turns on both the heat and the radio. A top-twenties station comes on and plays music familiar to Chase’s ears, and they drive, and they drive, and he begins to go quiet and still, sniffling to himself, hugging his shoulders. Feeling the monster petting him like an animal.

“Okay,” whispers a warbled voice when Chase has finally begun to calm down, and he looks up in shock to see the monster speaking, or trying to. He’d never known it to speak at all – only to watch him, and laugh, and whistle or hum, playing tricks on him or mimicking him in the corner of his vision. They’d never spoken.

“Okay,” it repeats, touching his hair. “Okay.”

Chase swallows and says nothing.

Anti pulls over after a couple hours of driving and hands Chase the backpack, helping him pull out the clothes and put shoes and a shirt on. It leads him inside a gas station and lets him use his bathroom and wash his face, staying beside him the whole time. Chase doesn’t try to protest or call for help. He does not know why.

Anti leads him carefully through the aisles of the gas station, a big truck stop station with rows and rows of snacks and toys and clothes and knick-knacks like phone charges for cars and California-themed snow-globes. It seems interested in everything, but in an amused way, like it’s laughing at everything, and Chase is supposed to be laughing with it.

He doesn’t know what to do. Anti’s arm is around his shoulder.

The monster buys something with Chase’s credit card while Chase shakes beneath his arm and tries to figure out what’s happening, though his brain seems to be shutting down from being so overwhelmed and he really just wants a drink. Anti pulls him back towards the car and this time, he clambers in without protest, sitting down in the passenger seat and buckling in.

Anti sits down beside him and offers him the bag from the gas station. Chase blinks and looks over, taking the bag numbly from its hands.

There are nuts for protein and three bottles of water. Chips and a breakfast sandwich and jerky and chocolate and a small, stuffed lion with the name “Lionel” in its ear.

Anti starts the car again. They drive.

“What are you?” asks Chase in a whisper.

The monster glances over at him and touches his face, stroking a finger down his cheek, down his beard, and, in that struggling, glitching, inhuman voice, it tells him:

“Anti. And you are mine. No more scares. No more slow dying. I look after you. Human. Chase. Mine.”

The monster who’s been haunting him for months wants to keep him as a pet.

The desert is rolling past Chase’s window. Lionel sits patiently on his lap. The radio plays something inane and catchy. Anti is touching his hand.

“Mine,” it says again. “Okay, Chase. It’s okay.”

Chase closes his eyes, and, leaning back against the headrest of the car, he lets himself drift into sleep.

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 12

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

12 - Need You Now ...

Jay clenched his jaw as he took the man’s hand. He wanted nothing more than to sock him square in the face--a thought that was becoming a pattern--and tell him to get the hell out. But, that was a sure way to get himself thrown out, and he refused to let Hailey wake up alone in this horrible situation. So, he bit his tongue and played nice. “You too, sir. Wish it was under better circumstances.” Jay said, forcing a smile. It was true, he did wish that they had met under better circumstances, for two reasons. One being that her dad wasn’t a sadistic asswhole and two being that he wished he was in a position to beat the shit out of him. 

Eldon nodded, agreeing with the young man standing in front of him, none-the wiser of his bubbling hatred. He wrapped an arm around his wife and thankfully didn’t notice Jay’s not so subtle flinch. 

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, Jay had once again sat down in the seat adjacent to Hailey’s bed while Anne and Eldon pulled chairs up next to her. Jay’s knee bounced nervously, he was wondering how long it took to buy a sandwich and where Trudy was. He wanted to leave and remove himself from the terrible silence, but the thought of Hailey waking up to face her father without him was as appealing as drinking battery acid. Instead, he sent a quick text to Adam, hoping he would come and share his wit and charm with the group.

Jay: Hailey’s parents are here…

Less than five seconds later, he replied.

Ruzey Ruzek: Are you serious?

Jay: Deadass

Jay: I’m gonna kill him if you don’t come stop me

Ruzey Ruzek: Don’t do that…

Ruzey Ruzek: A hospital is a terrible place to kill someone

Ruzey Ruzek: If you are going to murder him, put a little more effort in. For me?

Jay rolled his eyes, he was thankful for his best friend who was obviously trying to distract him. He also took notice of the fact that yet again, Adam had changed his contact information to something stupid. 

Jay: I hate you

Adam Ruzek: No you don’t

Adam Ruzek: You love me

Jay: Whatever

Adam Ruzek: Love you too bestie ;)

Jay: Stop being a little shit pls

Jay: This is not good

Adam Ruzek: I know

Adam Ruzek: Let me talk to Kim and then I’ll come down there

Jay: Thanks

Adam Ruzek: Ofc

Jay let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, relaxing into his chair a bit more. At least with Adam here he wouldn’t have to bear the hostility alone. 

“So. Jay, tell me about yourself.” Eldon said, turning to face him. “Anne made it sound like you and Hailey are very close.” 

Jay leaned forward in his chair, deciding that a faked conversation was better than deafening silence. Plus, he couldn’t risk Hailey’s dad thinking he knew anything, he didn’t want to put her or her mom in harms way. “We are, she’s my best friend.” He said honestly, with a soft smile.

“I hope you have only pure intentions with my daughter…” Eldon threatened, a eyebrow cocked.

Jay fought off the urge to scoff, “The purest.” 

Eldon nodded, feigning relief. “Good.” Jay was convinced he was only speaking to keep up appearances. “You play any sports son?” 

“Baseball.” Jay said courtly, his own father wouldn’t own up to him being his son, he didn’t need anyone calling him that, let alone an abusive arse. 

“Hailey’soldest brother went to college on a baseball scholarship!” Anne said, piping in. Jay gave her a big smile, happy to transfer the conversation to her. 

“Really? Where?” Jay asked, genuinely interested.

Anne beamed,“Indiana State.” 

“Wow, you must be proud.” Jay said.

“We are.” Eldon cut in, a little too harsh for Jay’s liking. 

Just like that the almost friendly conversation was over and the silence returned, Jay was about to text Adam to ask him where he was when Trudy came bounding into the room holding a pizza box. Her jaw dropped and Jay stood immediately. Her eyes met his and then focused back on the couple in front of her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

…

Kevin sat in the locker room with Matt Casey and Connor Rhodes after their saturday morning practice. He hated that he couldn’t be with his friends at the hospital, but football season stopped for no man and he was counting on impressing college scouts a year early.

“You coming to the party tonight?” Connor askes. Kevin shakes his head and Connor rolls his eyes. “Of course you aren’t, you haven’t been to any in months. Matt?”

Matt shakes his head as well. “Can’t, I have a date with Sylvie.” 

Before Connor can respond, Kevin claps his teammate and friend on the back. “Man, you’ve been crushing on her for like a year now.” He teases and Matt smiles big. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Matt says, “I’m really excited, really nervous and really worried that I’m going to screw this up.” 

Kevin is taken aback by the blondes sudden outburst of transparency, Matt wasn’t usually one for sharing his feelings. Anxiety must be his truth serum. “Where are you taking her?” 

“Molly’s, you know it? I think it’s perfect, not too fancy but enough to make a good impression. Plus, the owner works with Wallace.” Matt explained and Kevin knew exactly what place Matt was talking about. He had gone there for Kim’s birthday last year with the rest of their friends. 

Kevin picked up his bag and waved goodbye to Connor who was heading out. “Sounds perfect man, she’ll love it.”

“Thanks.” Matt said, he grabbed his bag and followed Kevin out of the locker room. “I heard about Kim and Hailey, how are they doing?”

Kevin sighed, “Last I heard, Hailey hadn’t woken up yet and Kim was doing good, no hearing loss like they had expected.”

“Damn, that’s great about Kim, but Hailey’s not out of the woods yet?” Matt asked.

Kevin shrugged, “Not that I know of.” There was a hint of sadness to his voice unrelated to his friends current state. The balance in the group was off and Kevin was taking the brunt of it. When Erin was alive, there were six of them. He always had someone to pair off with whether it was Adam, Kim or Hailey. Now there were five and as happy as he was for his friends, it was hard being the fifth wheel. 

He and Kim had been friends for years, that’s how he was brought into the group, it just happened that he knew Adam and Jay and clicked with them well. He was a little jealous if he was being honest, not only did he not always have the time to be totally  invested like the rest of them, but any time he did he felt like he was being held at an arms length. Kevin wanted to have a person, like Hailey was to Jay (anyone who wasn’t blind could see it, and even then they probably knew) or Kim was to Adam. He had been interested in Nadia at first, but her obvious feelings for Jay caused his to fade fast. Besides it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, Erin got rid of her at the first sign of weakness. 

Kevin bid goodbye to Matt and made his way to his old jeep, still wrapped up in his own thoughts. He felt guilty placing blame on a dead girl, but he couldn’t help but think that all of this was Erin’s fault. He wasn’t usually the one to displace emotion, he grew up in a household where they were almost too out in the open. However, his hatred for Erin--or the dramatics that surrounded her for that matter--was increasing by the day. He had no idea how she got herself in the situation she was in and he sure a hell didn’t understand how she dragged the rest or them and their families into it.

When he got home he found Vinessa playing in the family room and his mom in the kitchen. He said hello to his mother and told her about practice before sitting down to play with Vinessa. She had a barbie in her hand, and Kevin knew for a fact that she didn’t have any barbies. Taking a closer look over her shoulder, Kevin realized that it was no normal doll. It looked exactly like Erin.

…

Jay dropped his gaze to his phone and shot Adam a quick text.

Jay: Abort abort

Jay: Trudy is here

Eldon slowly stands and gives his sister-in-law a fake smile. “Checking on my only daughter, since you were so forth coming on her condition when you called.”

Trudy set the pizza down on the small table near the door and took a step toward him. “You are not welcome here. You need to leave.” 

Jay looked back and forth between them, trying to decipher where this was going. “What are you going to do Trudy? Call security? I haven’t done anything…”

“Like hell…” Jay said under his breath, Eldon’s head whipped around and Jay realized that his thought that slipped had not been as quiet as he hoped. 

Eldon was seething, Jay was convinced that he had literal steam coming out of his ears. “What did you say?” He took a step towards Jay and Anne reached out to grab his arm.

“Eldon--”

He ripped his arm from her grip, “Don’t touch me.” Anne backed away, much to Jay and Trudy’s approval. “You have no right to speak to me that way.”

Jay took a moment to consider her next move, he had already gotten himself into to some deep shit so he might as well go full send. “You have no right to smack around your wife or your daughter.” The last part came out more spat than in sentence form and Eldon clenched his fists.

The way he saw it, he had two choices: lay the kid in front of him out and high tail it out of there, or, play dumb and make him look like a idiot. He went with the latter. “I don’t know what your talking about.”

Jay scoffed, glancing at Anne who becoming one with the wall. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, there was no doubt that he had put the woman in danger due to his anger getting the best of him. “Sure, of course you don’t. You don’t anything about the injury that damaged Hailey’s body so bad that she needed a pacemaker?” He was almost yelling and a look of shock crossed Eldon’s face. He guessed that he thought no one knew. 

“I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.” Eldon grumbled, turning to face his wife.

Jay stood his ground, determined to have the last word. “Leave.” 

Eldon shot him a glare like he had never seen before and stormed out of the room. Jay let out a sigh of relief along with Trudy, who had jumped out of the doorway to make room for the brooding man. Anne began to gather her things, grabbing her purse and pressing a chaste kiss to her daughters forehead. Jay had forgotten Hailey was still there in the midst of all the craziness. Anne reached the threshold before Trudy spoke up. “You don’t have to leave with him.” Anne gave her a teary shrug and disappeared down the hallway. 

Trudy collapsed into one of the chairs they had abandoned so quickly. “I’m sorry.” Jay said softly, his guilt eating him up.

Trudy rann her hands down her face, “You didn’t do anything wrong Jay, you did what you thought was best.” Jay shrugged, her approval doing very little to calm the pit in his stomach. “But Hailey can never know they were here.” 

Jay nods, “Yeah okay.” He took a seat next to Trudy, placing his hand over Hailey’s. He wished he could erase the past few hours, and he wished Hailey’s beautiful blue eyes would open do the pressure on his chest would lift. He was ready for the nightmare of waiting to be over. 

Hailey felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks when she woke up, she opened her eyes and quickly shut them, groaning at the bright lights. 

Jay shot forward in his seat, “Hailey?” He gripped her hand a little harder and pulled his chair closer to the bed. 

She forced herself to open her eyes again, squinting. She recognized his voice and smiled softly. “Hey.” She croaked out, her throat dry from being asleep for so long. Hailey looked around the room and slightly nudged her head towards the pitcher of water beside her bed. Jay got the message and jumped up, getting her a glass. She gulped it down quickly, feeling a bit more like herself. Trudy announced that she was going to find a doctor, giving the two of them the room. 

“You scared me.” Jay said honestly, he had grown another set of balls since that morning. “How are you feeling?”

Hailey attempted to shrug, but it came out more of an awkward shake. “Okay, I guess.” 

Jay nodded, taking the next few moments to remind her what happened and explain their story. Thankfully Hailey remembered everything, right up to hearing his voice before she passed out. 

“How long was I out?” Hailey asked.

Jay sighed,“Since you got here last night, I’ll let the doctor explain everything.” 

“Everything?” Hailey asked, panicking a bit. She didn’t know the extent of her injuries and she had been in this position once before. It wasn’t fun. 

“Hey, hey.” Jay said, brushing a piece of tangled blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.” 

Hailey nodded, blinking back tears and deciding to change the subject. “How long have you been here?”

Jay grinned sheepishly, “Six this morning…” 

Hailey gasped, “When did you leave last night?”

“One.” Hailey was about to chew him out, but he beat her to it. “I know exactly what you are going to say and don’t you dare. I wanted to be here, I couldn’t have been anywhere else. I was going crazy at home when I was there.” 

Hailey blushed at his words, she hated that she was reacting to him this way because of their obvious situation, but she couldn't help it. The thought of him sitting in her hospital room for hours on end made her heart swell, as twisted as it was. 

“Let’s see what’s on TV…” Jay coughed, clicking the button on the remote. 

Hailey nodded, glancing past him. “Is that pizza?” 

Jay laughed and got up to get the box. He knew she probably wasn’t supposed to eat, but after his confession he would give her any distraction she wanted. 

Hailey turned her head to face the TV that was currently playing the local news. It was a press conference, the man speaking looked familiar and he was wearing a crisp uniform that she recognized. She had seen her uncle in it before. She read the heading on the bottom of the screen. 

Benjamin Severide - Office of Fire Investigation

Fire that potentially claimed the life of local teen Erin Lindsay has officially been ruled an arson.

Hailey’s eyes widened at the name. Severide. That was all the confirmation that Hailey needed, she knew she was right. Kelly’s dad worked in the very department that was controlling the investigation, if he was a part of it, they could make it go away. “Jay, look.” Jay glanced at the screen and by the look on his face, Hailey knew they were thinking the same thing. Someway, somehow, Kelly Severide was at the middle of all of it, and Hailey was going to find out exactly how.

[vaguely-gestures-to-the-void]

Hindsight: My thoughts on Loki (2021)

Welcome back! Spoilers below!

I need to clarify that I watch Loki purely as an escape. I've got a biased perspective in that regard because I don’t actively try to find fault with the show, though there are definitely things I’m not so inclined to. This is more of what I noticed and think things mean and it’s something I’m doing for fun. Anyways, here's my thoughts on episode 2 my loves.

Episode 2: THE VARIANT

Pre-title scene

Miss Minutes’ monologue in the recap is different to the one last ep.

1985 Oshkosh, Wisconsin

C-20!

“Today’s guest performances” on a board. Don’t really know if it means anything tho.

The Iconic (TM) I Need A Hero scene.

Pony.

The green tent - the lair of Loki.

I know not everyone’s a fan of the lighting, but it made sense to me. They’re still in the dark about who Sylvie is.

Why does C-20 take off her helmet? For the drama?

I hope Sylvie cleaned her blade. Narnia taught me well.

The Time Samsung (I can’t remember what it’s called right now) says that the date’s 04/12/1985.

Loki’s first mission (?)

‘Volume 26’ - how many of these does Mobius have?? #giveMobiusajetski

“ONLY at your LOCAL AUTHORIZED DEALER” - subtext about the TVA being control freaks? Jet ski safety?

I googled Wake Magazine. They’re up to volume 20 from what I saw, whilst Loki is reading volume 26, so I guess that’s something

Loki and Miss Minutes lmaooo.

Behind Loki’s elbow is the taxidermy something from the last episode. Also confirms that Loki threatened Casey at Mobius’ desk lol.

The thing has an egg?? What the hell is Mobius collecting? (He’s a Harry Hart variant lmao).

There are little twitches in Miss Minnutes’ hands. That’s so cool!

The egg timer’s a nice easter egg (I’m a comedian).

Mobius! B-15! :)

Is it just me or do the minutemen look similar, but not exactly the same. Makes sense if they’re variants.

I just realised the lights are built into the ceiling. Whoops.

What’s Mobius’ favourite?

Couple of things:

The racks full of identical uniforms/ones just hung up on doors.

The music has started to pick up the pace, but not in the way we see later on in the episode.

There’s a sign saying ‘FARE THEE WELL’ on it. Google tells me that it’s ‘used to express good wishes on parting’. Dang that was some good foreshadowing!

The person that looks like Agatha is still present.

I wonder whether it was supposed to be colder or whether the weather was just like that when they filmed.

The pony’s still around.

I think B-15 certainty that “a Loki couldn’t have gotten the jump of C-20” comes from her experience with them. She constantly tries to make it clear that because she’s not a variant, she’d know Loki better than he would, which (personally) makes the revelation that she’s a variant feel more devastating.

Again with the lighting, they’re still in partial darkness, constantly moving in and out of the light. Whilst what Loki says about the variant setting a trap is true, it isn’t in the context that he says it. Sylvie whoops their asses later.

The black and red-orange flags remind me of tomb markers. It’s a stretch, ik.

B-15 only has tally marks on one side of her helmet.

Mobius has fake pockets in his suit jacket. They’re the worst.

The ticking increasing in tempo as they approach red line - great for setting up tension.

I believe that Loki uses personal space like a weapon - slowly approaching them from the front, and then going behind Mobius’ back when he wants his way. It would make anyone uncomfortable, especially on a subconscious level because there’s a threat behind you.

Or maybe it’s that I have different personal space boundaries, not everyone likes being approached from behind. Loki’s movement felt intentional at least.

Getting Mobius to physically turn his way because of that might have been very subtle manipulation?

Loki looking back and forth trying to judge their reactions lol.

I liked the music in this scene, it sets up tension for Loki’s first attempt at betraying Mobius but then doesn’t completely dismiss it when it’s resolved.

Ravonna Renslayer’s office

The music here is 18 morceaux, Op. 72, No. 2. Berceuse. 18 morceaux, Op. 72: No. 2, Berceuse (Arr. For Theremin and piano) by Clara Rockmore for anyone that’s curious. I found out through Natalie Holt’s Twitter (I think).

The score is, and always will be, perfection.

Mobius’ small talk amuses me.

“Why do you get to keep all the trophies from my cases in here, you don’t think I’d love having that roller skate?” Mobius, what about the thing on the shelf behind your desk????

Ravonna seems like she’s answered these questions before, but she has a fondness for him that makes me think they’re good friends.

Also does Ravonna have multiple complete collections of the Encyclopaedia Britannica in her office? What are those books??

“I hope it’s a double.” Me too Mobius, me too (drink responsibly).

I don’t get how people think Mobius doesn’t remember leaving the stains. It sounded like Ravonna was chiding him for a bad habit and Mobius just made up a remark, not confusion.

Although he does place the cup at a different spot to the rings.

The ship flying past in the windows is a wonderful detail.

“The variant likes to stall for time.” It's very satisfying to me how everything stays relevant. Every detail advances the plot/contributes to it.

“Look, I know you have a soft spot for broken things.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Yes you do.”

Both Mobius and Ravonna only look at the middle figure when referring to the time Keepers. Either the other two are side-lined or don’t contribute at all.

“I’ll delete him myself.” At this point in time, I think Mobius is serious. As the episode progresses, his status may have changed, especially after the Jet Ski philosophy session.

Ravonna’s sash on the peg reminds me of the ones the people talking to Casey were wearing in episode 1.

Man those doors are so cool.

Peak sitting outside the principal’s office energy.

Mobius whistles at Loki as opposed to talking to him like he does later.

Any screen shot from the following scene is pristine chaotic disaster bi Loki energy featuring tired-of-your-tomfoolery Mobius.

“Isn’t that precisely why I’m here?” This marked a change in Loki to me. Up until that point, he’d tried to use what he’d known, who he’d been by scheming his way to the Time Keepers. By admitting he wasn’t sure of his purpose, we’re back with the person at the end of the last episode. It’s very Loki to try all avenues to get what he wants, and after having his world turned upside-down a few times in a short period, maybe he just wanted the familiarity of his old tricks, who he thinks he is.

Loki tensing up and then trying to assert control again reaffirms what I just said.

Man, give Mobius a holiday after all of this. Loki really tested him, huh?

Loki definitely likes validation on some level.

TVA archives (a.k.a the Salad Scene)

I can’t believe that place really exists. The looks combined with the music are just *chef kisses*.

I’m not sure if I’m thinking of the right progression, but the music reminds me of a plagal cadence. Google examples and play it side-by-side, you’ll get what I mean, maybe someone knows what it really is?

On either side of the elevators near the Time Keeper statues are the signs TVA archives.

The symmetry pleases my goblin brain.

I believe the entire show was just flexing the skills of the Loki crew and I couldn’t be happier.

“Pretend your life depends on it. I’m gonna get a snack.” This was so funny in the trailers but Mobius is dead serious (delete him myself comment). And he couldn’t even enjoy his salad.

Love that the end of credits takes from some of the scenes in episode 2.

The archivist has neat glasses.

I want some TVA stationary y’all.

It’s that moment fam.

I can’t be the only one curious by the ‘DISPLACED by 000:000:002:162’. Is that in Units? It would explain why the time line looks slightly bendy whenever we see it, especially if Apocalypses are so frequent.

IT’S THE SALAD LADS!

Mobius is reading the magazine that Loki was looking at earlier. Jet skis are Mobius’ comfort character.

“Don’t set fire to the palace.”

Tom Hiddleston has so much energy, he can move so fast.

“Oh God.” - Mobius, Null Time Zone

“YOU.” - Casey, Null Time Zone

Casey!

No thoughts, head empty, the Salad (TM).

But seriously, people only seem to be at their tables with others that work in a similar section. Not hunters and analysts eating in tandem to me, folks.

Oh Casey. Please don’t hurt him.

Aw, Mobius’ little giggle warmed my heart. Owen Wilson’s giving me whiplash with Mobius. My heart can’t take this y’all.

79 AD Pompeii, Italy

They’re both so giddy, Your Honour, I love them.

Mobius snuck them out lol.

“Bird noises?”

“BE FREE MY HORNED FRIENDS, BE FREE!” The post wouldn’t be complete without this.

Loki just throwing food at people and telling them “...enjoy your last meal while you can” is top tier comedy to me.

This is the first time we see Loki openly say nothing matters. I feel like the case file on the destruction of Asgard really pushed him to treat fate as unchangeable.

LXXIX is 79. Nice one Loki crew!

Mobius’ eye twitching as he checks the variance is a nice touch.

Loki throws away the stick that was holding the goat pen closed at the end.

TVA Archives, TVA cafeteria

Mobius picked up those files so smoothly I had to re-watch it.

Their position reflected what they were talking about - when Loki thinks it’s his individual contribution, he’s walking separately to Mobius, but they meet up when working together. I loved the blocking in that little moment.

I seriously thought that Loki was unconscious when I first saw him asleep around Mobius. I’ll admit it, it felt out-of-character for someone with such bad trust issues. Both of them seem pretty tired tho.

It’s the Jet Ski conversation comrades!

I’m beaming. Mobius talking about Jet Skis was the only time I’ve really remembered it’s Owen Wilson talking. It’s such a fun line to think about!

Loki’s smile. Adorable.

Just go watch the scene, it’ll give you good brain juices.

Mobius does it all for the Jet Skis and nothing else. I don’t make the rules, the Time Keepers do.

“My own glorious purpose.” This is a recurring theme in the season. Ultimately, I think that Loki is going to run for as long as it brings in money/until Loki gets killed again. However, I do like to think that in following seasons we’ll move beyond setting up Phase 4 Marvel stuff and just get deep dives into Loki’s character, though it may happen in the later eps or not be as interesting. Part of what made this show so interesting is the new setting in the Marvel universe but it’s hard to make predictions as to whether it will last in a show featuring the God of Mischief. Whatever happens, I’m happy that we got to see Loki’s existential crisis together, lads.

The music picks up, signalling that this quiet moment is about to end.

“No one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is every truly good.”

“Scared little boy.”

These lines mean a lot to me. Loki perceives Mobius as an equal, similar to himself but not completely identical. The TVA’s whole aesthetic is Kafkaesque (Disney+ used that word), the imperfections keeping the place from looking mechanical and orderly like what the TVA promotes itself to be. Loki wants Mobius to acknowledge it, but Mobius is in the past, not addressing what’s right in front of him, surrounding him. That’s probably because Mobius doesn’t believe, he accepts what he’s been told though Loki wants to change that. He’s still focused on his job, the variant. I don’t think Mobius will struggle against change in the ‘belief’ part as long as things are rational.

Kate Herron (director) said that the Kablooie scene was improv which makes me wish we had more B roll of Owen and Tom. They seem so professional, invested and fun on set.

“No wonder you’re so bitter.” I’m sorry Mobius you sound as salty as your salad.

‘Artificially flavoured chewing gum’ Has something happened causing artificial flavouring to be preferred?

‘Blue’ has canonically changed to ‘Bloo’ by 2050 in America in the MCU. I blame capitalism.

Why does Mobius look so tiny? I say that like Owen Wilson wouldn’t look like a giant next to me lol.

Owen Wilson is 3.5 inches (9 centimetres) shorter than Tom Hiddleston. Yet he is dwarfed as Mobius. I need to stop talking about this and move on.

There’s no ‘variance energy detected’ line in the report.

“You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.” Loki looks so chuffed.

One day, I’ll properly address my thoughts on the shipping. Until then, I just want no one to die.

“Yeah, he’s doing great.” Mobius is so hyped. Good for him.

Owen Wilson has dimples.

Ravonna’s screen doesn’t show the timeline like it does later.

Ravonna is the done mom friend. Sane, undeserving of this, please give her a jet ski moment.

Buckle up folks because the last twenty minutes of this episode are my favourite so far.

At 34 minutes in, we get the music fading in with “Okay. But Mobius...” and a transition to my favourite composition so far. Natalie Holt outdid herself. The soundtrack is nearly constant, there’s no break for a moment of clarity anymore. The progression of events is inevitable, tying the bow on a plot line created in an hour and a half. The little embellishment from the strings (possibly) as Mobius and Loki exit is perfect. Combined with Loki’s raised fist leading to a pan to the ceiling, it prepared the audience for everything being turned upside down.

The changing camera angles and shot lengths (the continuous shot when B-15 takes the knives, the circling behind as the briefing occurs) keep viewers on their toes. The continuous shot is fluid, B-15 doesn’t look at Loki or Mobius, her reaction is natural and that just proves that the timing on that scene was impeccable. The circling behind reminded me of Loki positioning himself behind Mobius as he did earlier, but now he’s on the same side, part of the team though he continues to distinguish between himself and the variant. The building sensation that change is coming is met by the incredible swell in the music as we watch the picturesque Haven Hills get destroyed by modern technology and face the terrifying reality that is the Roxxcart store. There’s a close up on the Roxxcart storefront with school buses with the words ‘Evacuation shuttle’ in the background as we see the TVA’s minutemen come out reinforcing that even when the end is nigh, large corporations will loom over. A storm is raging with worse to come. I can go on and on, but you get the point.

2050 Roxxcart Disaster

I love that y’all are calling this the Alabama supermarket breakup. Makes me chuckle, that’s for sure.

I too hate when people can hear my footsteps. Someone that gets the struggle.

Sylvie places the TVA Samsung over a Roxxcart Security manual. She’s overridden both and is in control.

The date is 03/15/2050.

I think that the way the Hunters and minutemen hold their baton things is so that they don’t get yeeted. Neat.

As always, the beats are slick yo.

I hope the Azaleas guy gets some Azaleas wherever he ended up.

I love the way Loki says “In this storm.” It’s so satisfying for no real reason.

The wonderful Wunmi Mosaku does not get the recognition she deserves for this scene. She switched from B-15 to Sylvie so effortlessly. They’re two distinct characters, her facial expressions, body language everything changed in that instant. Even from the one line, “No, they usually survive,” her delivery had changed in a way that was noticeable. It’s uncanny, exactly what was needed when facing a foe that remained unseen. And the smile? It’s before we know the variant as Sylvie, so naturally it’s that signature Loki smile with a hint of malice we associate with the variant. Damn y’all, Wunmi’s incredible! I really hope she’s recognised for being so talented in this series, if not in all her other work!

Mobius really cares about those people. I really want his redemption (?) arc.

It’s been pointed out that even in those conditions, Roxxcart were selling blankets and water. I think it means that by 2050, cash would be defunct. If only electronic payment existed, as long as there’s electricity they can run a business. Chew on that.

If the man they speak to is 50 to 60, he was a 90s kid.

There must be a difference in the reprogramming or kind of variant selected to be a hunter as compared to an analyst. The Hunters look after their own, but the analysts (or Mobius) go as far as empathising with variants.

C-20 is sitting in front of safety standards.

“A bit amateurish.” Loki knows that the variant isn’t as skilled with magic as he is.

As Loki and the possessed people walk, the lighting becomes brighter. He’s moving out of the shadows.

Me too Loki, I’m worried about B-15 too.

Sylvie unironically saying bless is hilarious.

Randy must be hella tall.

There’s a low angle shot as Loki and Randy face off with the flickering light above with a sign hanging above them like a sword of Damocles and a physical separation. Terror is nearly constant in Loki's life now, but he responds by letting go of his drive to survive.

The subtle swells in the music just add to my rising blood pressure.

C-20’s voice over is sad lads.

“I wanna go home,” we know she’s not referring to the TVA.

Mobius seems like a caring person.

When B-15 sits up and searches the room, I think it’s her realisation. Her shiver was from fear and shock, the music wasn’t about her not seeing Loki, it was about the TVA and what had happened to her.

The head snap and the score timing matching. So satisfying.

“I would never treat me like this. Hi.” I think that’s Loki realising that his foe is not willing to talk their way through conflict.

This fight scene contradicts all the magic we see later ik, but if he didn’t want to hurt anyone and was trying to draw out the real enemy it made sense.

Some of Sylvie’s powers must come into the people she possesses. The guy punched a glass screen and didn’t even bleed.

“I have shit to do.” Sylvie wasn’t raised with court etiquette (from what we know) and her lexical choice reflects that.

Dell computers survive into 2050 in the MCU. So do those robot dogs and Roombas. I am only happy about the Roombas. Where did the real dogs go? :(

“Mobius.”

“Where is he?”

“I lost him.”

“What happened?”

“I...”

Until now, B-15’s delivery has felt slightly rhythmic, like she was used to having the same arguments, particularly with Mobius. When she trails off however, I think it’s her trying to rationalise what she’s been through with Sylvie’s possession. Her devotion to the TVA was rooted in the fact that she wasn’t a variant, her life had a purpose and it was intentional. This must have rocked her, I’m invested in where she’ll go.

THE CUT TO BLACK OH GOOD GOSH.

Sylvie, my queen. I’d roll off a cliff for her.

The person with the moustache (you know the one) has pure fear on his face.

Ravonna knows what’s up.

And so do you, yes it’s the music, go listen to it.

THE RED LIGHTING

The zoom out to that incredible hallway shot and then stopping behind the time door. It was never about him after all, he was in the background of her plans.

Sylvie’s wave in Roxxcart vs. Loki’s on the train. Discuss.

The blackout, thunder and Loki’s pause under the flickering red and white light, do y’all really want me to talk about the s y m b o l i s m????

He’s conflicted, you know it, I know it, Mobius knows it.

Speaking of Mobius, there he is, we cut back to Loki and see him make his decision, zooming back in on him.

And with that final flourish in the score, we are done with episode 2!

Cue the most amazing end credits score you’ll ever hear.

Do yourself a favour, listen to all of it, including the part after the main credits, both are Works. Of. Art.

Ep 2 review

In case you didn’t notice, this is my favourite episode so far. There are parts I didn’t take to as much, but details from the previous episode being used in the plot as well as others being explained by Sylvie in episode 3. Rewatching it was easier than episode 1 though it left me wanting more. It will get more interesting from here, but until then, that was a fun romp.

See y'all next time. I hope whoever's reading this has a wonderful day!

Part 1, Episode 1 extend review link:

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove: Best Man

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Hot , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass Dangerous Waters, Nursing the patient , Making it Work  Never Have I Ever   , The Masquerade , The Proposal , Emotional Turmoil, sneaking, Best Man, coming home

@dragsraksllib @super-pink-a-palouza @loomiz @waywardtigersandwich  @bskarsgardlove92 @dragsraksllib  @bill-owns-my-asss  @hornyhetero​   @taintedglass​  @grandpa-sweaters​,    @skarsgaard0 @screechingexpertperfection​

 not really much to warn: Strip club, innuendo

When we last checked in on Cozy Cove Eric had Proposed to Tami and she had excepted. When he told Axel, Axel was ready to take him out to celebrate. But when a call came from his Susie Q which ended with her being rushed to the hospital, Axel jumped on a plane to be by her side. Once she was safely back in her dorm Axel went home. We now continue this story.

It was raining bills on the dancers at Club Fin. Axel was cracking up as his brother Eric just tossed money at the mermaid and beach babes dancing for them. They had been drinking for hours as the club’s dancers performed great routines with a beach theme. He had the VIP treatment set up for the groom to be with tables near the stage for the whole crew. The women paid Eric close attention and he reveled in it. 

“Hi, I’m Casey.” The waitress smiled at the groom. “How are we doing here? Another round? A lap dance?”

“All the above for him.” Axel chuckled. “We will all take another round when you are finished making him squirm.”

“Don’t leave out the best man.” Eric grinned. “Invite a friend over for him.” Eric held up some bills.”

“Of course.’ Casey snapped and another girl came over. ” I’m Christa.” She straddled Axel’s lap.

“What about me?” Josh pouted. “I’m their brother.”

“You can watch.” Axel and Eric said in unison. They laughed as Josh pouted.

“You are barely old enough to be in here.” Eric told Josh not taking his eyes off the dancer gyrating over his lap.

Axel was not completely into it, but he was not going to deny the groom a request for him to get a lap dance. He would rather it be with his Susie Q. grinding her hips towards him. The thought made him squirm. He stuffed a few twenties between the dancer’s bare breasts. “Excuse me doll.”  

She got off his lap and went to another customer. Axel got up and padded Eric on the shoulder. “Enjoy, I will be right back. Save me a shot from the next round.” Eric nodded as Axel walked away. He found a quieter spot near the entrance to call his girl. “Hey, Susie Q. How are you doing?” His voice was a little slurred.

“I’m just studying tonight.” Susie giggled for him. “You having fun tonight? I thought it was guys night out with the groom to be?”

“yeah, Yeah, Eric is having a great time.” He glanced around. “I’m missing you. These girls have nothing on you Baby Girl. You are so soft and more pretty. You are going to be on break for the wedding, right?”

“I will have a week to spend in Cozy Cove before heading to Cape Canaveral.” She had told him this before, but she knew in his inebriated state he didn’t remember.

Axel pouted “What if I said that’s not enough for me. I want you home Baby Girl. I want you hear to stay.”  

“I know Axel” Susie sighed deeply. “I want that to, but you also want me to finish my degree. We will have fun in Florida when you visit. You promised to take me to Disney World.”

“I would promise you the whole world.” He was getting drunken tears in his eyes as his emotions got stuck in his throat when he spoke. “I mean that shit Susie Q.”

“I know Axel.” She can hear his emotional state. “Why don’t you call it a night. Call me tomorrow so I know you are okay? I will answer even if I am in class. I love you.”

“I’ll get them wrangled up.” He wiped a tear from his cheek. “This place is about to close anyway. Everyone is a bit wasted. I have a limo waiting outside to take us home. They will drop me last since I am the organizer. I’m be fine. I will just be thinking about you all night because I love you to.”

She hears him take a deep breath before he hung-up.  Axel stumbled a little towards his brother’s and friends as last call and last dance were called overhead.  He tried to sound together as he rounded them up. “All right gentlemen we closed the place down.” The lights came up and it about blinded him. He had to shield his eyes with his hand. “Thank you, ladies.” He led around of clapping and hollers and hoots and whistles.  

He helped Eric up. They both helped Josh up. Axel was in the middle as the three of them walked to the limo with four others, Henry, Sam, Ryan and Nick. They all fell into the limo.  

“That girl have you riled. You got up pretty fast.” Eric chuckled his eyes a bit unfocused.

“Not really.” Axel rolled his eyes. The one kept rolling an extra second until he focused to calm it. “It just made me miss my girl.’

“I know what you mean.” Henry admitted. “I cannot wait to bask in Alison’s glow.

“You are a poet.” Eric bowed almost falling forward to the floor of the limo. “You need to speak at my wedding Henry or at least help Axel with his best man speech.”

Henry blushed. “If he wants me to, I could I reckon.”

“Thanks Henry.” Axel patted him on the back. “I will keep that in mind.”  

Henry is the first to get dropped off. He had texted Alison. She stands waiting with a blanket as the sun starts to peek on the horizon. “Did you have a fun boys night, baby?” Alison asked as she ushered him to the door of their trailer near the beach.  

“Yeah.” His cheeks turned crimson. “The girls were nice. They were good dancers.”

“Should I be jealous?” She got him into bed laying on his chest as his arm wrapped around her.  

“Naw.” He smiled. “They ain’t you. You’r my only love.”

She smiled as they drifted off to sleep.  

Others were dropped off one by one. Josh and Axel helped Eric into his home. Tami was waiting up and just shook her head to the drunken mess he was. His brothers plopped him down on the couch.

“I got it from here boys.” Tami grabbed a blanket and a bucket for beside the bed in case he got sick.  

“Hi, Baby.” Erics eyes are barely slit open.  

She smiles. “Did you have fun, Eric?”  

Axel and Josh made their way back to the limo as the soon to be married couple chatted about the evening as much as Eric could before passing out.  

“You did good Axel.” Josh slurred out as he got out at his place.  

“Thanks, Bro.” He watched his little brother stumble to his door and open it before closing the limo door to head to his place. He gave the driver a few $100s as a tip when dropped off at his place. He dropped his keys on the table, stumbled to the restroom, and hit the bed face first when he got to his room. He was snoring in minutes.  

When the sun brightened his room Axel stirred in his bed. A slight moan escaped his dry lips. Under his eyelids his eyes could be seen shifting back and forth.  His chest extended and fell. Breathing was heavy. He grabbed hold of the sheets as he grunted. Body soaked. Still in the cloths from the night before. They stuck to his body like they were painted on him. His eyes flew open.  

“Fuck.” Axel rasped his mouth feeling like cotton. He blinked a few times sitting up slowly. Whatever he was reacting to didn’t stick in his head. He scrubbed his face. His head was splitting. He held the wall stumbling to the bathroom. After he pissed a river, Axel turned the cold water on the tap and drank right from the facet. He could feel the cold water clear down his throat. The hot shower water beading down his body felt even more enjoyable.  

He slid on a pair of shorts and went to the kitchen where he grabbed a Gatorade, He downed almost half of it. He laid on the couch turning on the television. He was back out in minutes. When the maid came to clean, she was extra quiet. No vacuuming. Just changing the bedding and putting away the clean cloths she brought and taking the dirty. She placed a blanket on him. The donuts she brought left on the counter. The juice in the refrigerator.  

When he woke midday, his headache was gone. He felt better than the morning , just starving. He was excited when he saw the box of donuts. He opened the box seeing four specialty donuts. A chocolate cake donut with some white cream and sprinkled with Oreos. Another was a glazed donut sprinkled with chocolate chips. A third was covered in white icing with cinnamon toast crunch. The fourth has white icing with peanut butter crunch. He took the peanut butter one.

He licked the top down to the opening where he discovers the filling. His finger dipped in and swirled before he pulls it out. Popping it in his mouth he makes an almost orgasmic sound as he sucks off his finger. He uses his mouth and tongue to get the rest of the creamy filling. This whole ritual makes him think of his girl, so he goes to find his phone.

He finds his phone plugged in on the nightstand. He thinks his cleaning person must have done it when she came to clean. Another thing he was grateful for her doing while he was passed out on the couch. He pushed one button to dial up Susie Q.  

“Hey sweet girl, are you in class.” He purred into the phone with a deep gravelly voice.

“I’m between classes.” Susie talked as quickly as she was walking. “Can I video chat you back when I get to my room? I would love to see your handsome face.”

“I would love that.” He hung up going back to the kitchen to devour his treat and drink some juice as he waits for her to call. It is only minutes before she does.

“Hey sexy.” She giggled. “What’s that on your top lip?”

“It's there for a good ride.” He grinned.

She laughed harder. “I see that mustache trying to come in a bit fuller but that’s not what I meant. Go to the mirror.”

Axel went to the bathroom mirror. There was a huge glob of peanut butter on his upper lip. He proped his phone up against the mirror to wash his face. Water dripped around his features making Susie bite her lip.

“I wish I was there to just lick it off, Daddy.”  She licked her lips.

Axel grinned. “I’m sure I would enjoy that Baby Girl. I enjoy everything your tongue can do. I miss everything you can do to me.”

“Only two more weeks.” She sighed deeply. Her chest slowly rising and falling making Axel so needy for your breasts and the rest of her. “How was the bachelor party?”

“I think it went good.” Axel made his way to plop onto the couch. “I haven’t talked to Eric, but the dancers took care of him well.”

“Did any of them take care of you?”  Her eyes big and curious. “I wouldn’t be jealous.”

“Um, Yeah one of the ladies gave me a lap dance.” He looked away from her as he grabbed his juice. “I just closed my eyes imagining it was you, Baby Girl.”  

“Is that so?” Susie smirked.  

“Honest.” Axel smiled innocently. “I don’t really want anyone but you riding my lap, thigh or face. Damn, I couldn’t even eat a donut without thinking about you.”

“I’m sorry everything you do seems to put naughty thoughts of me in your mind, Daddy.” She smiles unbuttoning her sweater. “I have to go soon but if you call me later tonight, I will try to clear your mind. When I get home, I’ll do much more than make you watch. I can’t wait for your hands to touch these.” Under the sweater her bra was white lace leaving nothing to the imagination. “Can you wait?”

“I will try.” He licked his lips. “Damn you can be a tease.  

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 11: Rivalries

/ Story Masterlist /

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Original female character

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: Montserrat's and Rafael's childhoods come for them both in different ways.

'With only 12 days left until New York's mayoral election, the latest polls show state senator Alejandro Munoz still holding on to his lead. The time has come to fix our broken schools. The time has come to provide affordable housing for the hard-working people of the city. The time has come!'

"Ouch - Kara that hurt!" Montserrat scrunched her face after one particular strong hair pull from Kara's hands. "Are you even paying attention to what you're doing to my hair or are you watching TV?"

Kara pulled her hands from Montserrat's fiery orange hair and cheekily smiled behind Montserrat's chair. The two were in Kara's salon, before opening, and while Kara was attempting to try a new hair style using Montserrat, a lot of her attention seemed to be going towards the television up on the wall.

"I swear to God," Montserrat muttered as she decided to end this impromptu hair modeling gig by pulling out the bobby pins in her hair.

"Sorry, it's just elections are coming up and I wanna stay informed," the blonde hair stylist replied with, not even bothering to help Montserrat undo a knot on her hair. "My vote's going to Muñoz for sure. What about you?"

"Don't know, don't - OW!" Montserrat angrily glared at her reflection after feeling like she'd pulled skin off during the unknotting process.

Kara remained unfazed. "You don't know who you want for mayor?"

"Hasn't been on my radar yet but I've heard things about all parties. Can I go now?" Montserrat dropped the last bobby pin onto the salon table and turned to find Kara engulfed in her cellphone. "Nice to see the attention you give me."

Kara sarcastically rolled her eyes. "It's Damian. We were gonna get lunch but he's at your cousin's right now."

"What? Casey?"

"With Gael too," Kara put her phone in her back pocket. "Something about a client gone wrong? Issue? Not sure."

"Hm, I guess they're still having trouble. Maybe I can stop by," Montserrat said as she got up from her chair.

"What are you going to do? You're a cop not a lawyer!"

"Thanks, really. I haven't talked to Gael in weeks and I was meant to babysit his girls last week but he cancelled in a very short text," Montserrat turned to the mirror to fix her hair as best as possible. "I'll say hi to Damian for you."

"And while you're at it, remind him that he owes his little sister $20," Kara pointed in a serious, mocking, manner.

Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes. "Hair model is gone!" she announced as she swiped her purse off the table.

"But coming back!" Kara reminded because she certainly had more styles to try out and as it turned out, Montserrat had very smooth hair.

~0~

On her way towards the D.A's office, Montserrat heard the distinct voice of her partner calling her name. Montserrat paused and looked back to see Sonny speeding to catch up with her, with, due to his long legs, was done in a quick stride.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Montserrat asked him.

"Warrant," Sonny said the magic word that could answer almost everything.

"Case of Jamil?"

"We got him this time," Sonny promised then motioned Montserrat to walk ahead.

"I sure hope so cos I'd love to see the smirk get wiped off his face already," Montserrat thanked him for opening the door for her but as she was about to step in, she bumped into a man. "Sorry," she apologized dutifully.

"Oh don't worry about it, bonita," a familiar man responded with.

Montserrat stepped back, accidentally bumping into Sonny at the same time. "I know you," the redhead said within the second. "My roommate was talking about you earlier. Alex Muñoz, you want to be our mayor."

The man in question smiled the same charming smile Montserrat saw on the television. "Sounds like I got her vote. What about you?"

"I... don't know yet," Montserrat shrugged then looked up at Sonny behind her.

"Don't know either," he admitted.

"Psh, you'll vote for whoever Kara will," Montserrat waved him off, missing Sonny's face of offence when she looked back to Alex. "But I have to say I'm surprised a candidate for mayor is here…?"

"Just visiting an old friend," Alex left it brief.

"K, well, promise I'll do my research," Montserrat politely reached for the door again.

"If you need any help deciding, you can always call me," and the man surprised her with a small card. "Always happy to help a citizen, especially cuando toca ser una linda mujer."

Montserrat slowly took the card from him, eyes glued to Alex's returning smile. It was cocky no doubt even when he walked off.

"Okay, I skipped Spanish class a lot in highschool but I'm not that bad to miss the fact he just made a pass at me," Montserrat turned to face Sonny with a wide grin, close to laughing.

"You're so not voting for him," Sonny ushered her inside, instigating her full laughter.

"What? Why not? You're not actually thinking that being overprotective of your crush's roommate will score you some good grade points?" Montserrat leveled an amused glance his way, one that made him roll his eyes.

"I'm gonna go get that warrant," Sonny decided to avoid another teasing round which, thanks to Montserrat, the squad now partook in.

"Sure, sure," Montserrat waved him off and headed for Casey's office. She was only a couple feet away when the office door opened. Damian was the first to emerge, letting Montserrat notice his face expression. Whatever problem they were having didn't seem to be getting any better.

"Hey," Montserrat walked towards them, but the closer she got the better she could see Gael's grim face. "Woah, what problem have you two got?"

"None of your business," Gael snapped at the same time Damian had answered "It's just business".

Montserrat raised her eyebrows in confusion. "What the hell's your problem, Gael?"

"Seriously?" the older brother snapped again which only confused Montserrat even more. "You're asking me what's my problem after what you said about Dad?"

"Wait, you're actually mad about that?" Montserrat didn't know whether to laugh or not. It was plainly absurd. Though now she supposed it made sense why Gael cancelled her babysitting day.

"You said Dad was a bad parent-"

"-I did not say that!" Montserrat couldn't believe they were actually going to have this argument.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

Damian looked back and forth between the siblings as their argument got louder and louder. He tried to cut in but it didn't work. It rarely did. And it just seemed to attract more people out from the offices.

"How could you be so insensitive towards Dad!?"

"How could you be so stupid!?" Montserrat mimicked her brother's tone without a care in the world. "This is why you didn't let me babysit the girls last week?"

"I was afraid you'd call me a bad father too," Gael promptly said, and it honestly became hard for Montserrat not to smack him right there.

"Would you quit being such a baby!? I didn't say anything about our father that wasn't true! But that doesn't mean I said he was a bad father!"

Casey flung open her office door and fixated an incredulous glare on her two cousins. "Would you two quiet it down?" her input only seemed to make things worse.

"No, I will not 'quiet it down'-" Gael mimicking Casey as well earned himself another glare from the woman, "-when my sister is being so ungrateful to our father!"

"I'M NOT!" Montserrat outright shouted, which then called forth her partner.

"Montse, what's going on?" Sonny emerged from Rafael's office, along with the ADA himself.

"The entire building can hear you," Rafael added.

Montserrat, frustrated, motioned them all to be quiet. "I'm not doing anything except defending myself from ridiculous accusations by my dear big brother!"

"You got a lot of nerve, Montserrat," Gael got face to face with his younger sister. "You want to call our father a bad parent when he worked his ass off to get both of us through? While Regina was out probably partying, he was there reading you stories and helping me with my homework-"

"-but I never said anything! And you know damn well that I know what Regina did."

"Well it doesn't seem like it-"

"-Gael-" Casey once again stepped in but the man went over her words anyways.

"-but of course you'd never understand. You're still thinking Mommy is coming back. You always thought that-"

"-screw you, Gael," Montserrat felt there was nothing left to say.

"Montserrat!" Casey hissed.

"Montse, why don't we head back to the station together?" Sonny made his own attempt as well.

"Yeah, go back to work and act like you didn't insult our father," Gael spat and finally moved around Montserrat to head for the exit.

"I'm so sorry," Damian felt like he needed to apologize to Casey at least for the siblings' brawl but it wasn't like Casey was new to it.

"We're good, go," Casey gave him the nod that it was alright for him to leave.

"No, we are not good!" Montserrat turned with the intention of catching up with her brother. "If he wants to talk about Regina then let's have it!" But of course she was stopped by both Sonny and Rafael. She fought the two for a bit before she finally backed off. "Taking his side?" she snapped at both of them.

"Easy there, Novak," Rafael pointed a finger at her to keep her from trying again. "You've got the whole building watching you."

"I don't care," she snapped. "If he wants to talk about Regina then I can do it."

"At another time," he snapped this time. "I'll find her myself if that'll shut both of you up."

That seemed to trigger her. "You know what, if you think you can find Regina Ramos then be my frikin guest because I haven't been able to find her in 25 years!" This particular spat startled Rafael due to the ferocity lacing her words. Even her expression had gone ballistic and he'd seen quite a lot of things in his line of work.

"Montserrat," Casey once again attempted to calm her cousin but Montserrat waved Casey off and took off in a storm.

"What the hell was that?" Sonny jerked a thumb over his shoulder, completely lost on the show they'd seen.

"What do you think? Another sister-brother brawl," Casey sighed. "How many siblings do you have again?"

Sonny playfully rolled his eyes. "My sisters and I have never argued like that."

"Who the hell is this Regina and why is she making such trouble?" asked Rafael. He'd certainly like to know why he'd garnered such a snap from Montserrat.

Casey knew what he was thinking and decided to answer only to clarify what Montserrat was dealing with. "Regina is Montserrat's and Gael's mother. She...sort of walked out on them when they were just kids." Casey sighed when she saw the sorrowful expressions on the men's faces. "And that's why Montse doesn't talk about that because she hated the pity faces she would get afterwards. She doesn't like talking about it, period. I mean, you guys got a firsthand look at what happens, and you-" she gestured at Rafael, "-got a firsthand taste."

"Wouldn't be the first time I accidentally probed where I shouldn't have," the ADA shrugged, though inside he was feeling a tad remorseful (which he didn't like one bit).

"I would just tread lightly," Casey parted with that warning and returned to her office.

"How the hell do we 'tread lightly' after that?" Rafael was left with an unanswered question.

"We take slow steps," Sonny decided it was as close to a proper answer as they could get to.

~0~

Montserrat practically stalked into her apartment that evening with a white paper bag in one hand, and a half eaten brownie in the other. Kara looked up from her dinner plate with a mouth full of spaghetti, one noodle in particular dangling below her chin.

"What's...wrong with...you?" Kara said while she swallowed the whole food in her mouth.

"My brother's an idiot," Montserrat spat and trudged into the living room to take her coat and shoes off. She stuffed her mouth with the remainder of her brownie. Kara watched her ginger roommate chuck the paper bag (aggressively one should add) to the couch before plonking down to take off her boots.

"Uh, my brother's an idiot too. All big brothers are. Didn't you get the memo?" Kara's light joke was met with a cold deadpanning look. "Okay. Um, I know I'm going to regret asking but shouldn't you be at work?"

"I asked Liv for a personal day. She's very understanding," Montserrat threw her boot across the living room, missing how Kara winced when the hell of one boot hit the television furniture piece. She then pulled her phone out of her back pocket and let it drop (not so gently) against the glass coffee table.

Kara feared for her furniture's safety. "Um, okay, so...would you like dinner…? I made spaghetti," she motioned to her plate which was half empty already.

"Since when?" Montserrat unceremoniously snorted. "You always complain how you never got that one."

"Sonny gave me a recipe," the blonde shrugged.

Montserrat shot her roommate a look. "You're trading recipes now?" but she decided in that second that she didn't even want to get into that potential romance that was sure to make her gag. "Never mind. No, I don't want dinner."

"Right, cos stuffing your face with brownies is the better way to go," Kara's sarcasm was once again responded with a cold glare. "What's going on, Montse?"

"You mean Damian didn't call? Not even Sonny?" Montserrat grabbed her paper bag and reached for another brownie.

"No...should I call one of them…?"

"Oh, right, like you need another reason to call Sonny - stop with that!" Montserrat pretended to shiver, making Kara roll her eyes, and took a bit of her new brownie. "Gael's still mad at me for what I said about our Dad leaving us alone sometimes. He thinks I actually called my father a bad parent."

"But I'm sure you didn't mean it like that-"

"-yeah, I know," Montserrat's sudden cut in sounded rude but Kara knew Montserrat needed to vent right now and this was how she did it. "He even went ahead and brought in Regina, like I don't know what she did to us."

Kara wouldn't even try to say anything about Regina Ramos. That topic had always been a delicate one that usually resulted in arguments between Gael and Montserrat. Their mother abandoning them as kids had left raw pain that hadn't really see any healing.

"Gael is an idiot. And more than that, he's…" Montserrat couldn't even finish without getting furious all over again. "We argued outside Casey's office and...we got loud."

"...how loud?" Kara raised an eyebrow, knowing well where this was headed.

"Pretty loud."

"Were there people?"

"...when we were finished…"

"Oh, Montse. How mad was Casey?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask her when I stormed out of there after threatening Sonny and Rafael."

"Oh Montse," Kara shook her head disapprovingly.

"Gael made me so mad!"

"That's not an excuse, that's just a sister-brother relationship," Kara dug her fork into her spaghetti. "Only now you're actually held responsible for your actions."

Montserrat hated when Kara was right. She just hated it. Thankfully, someone knocked on their door, preventing Kara from continuing with her lecture.

"It's probably the Andersons downstairs complaining about your stomping," Kara warned as Montserrat went up to answer the door.

"I've still got some colorful words left if you're interested," Montserrat said before opening the door. "Great, what are you doing here?" her initial whine made Kara lean to the side to try and see who was at the door. If it was Gael, she'd take cover for sure.

"Seriously, I don't get paid enough to be your partner," Sonny said with a straight face.

Montserrat deadpanned him but took his sarcasm to heart. He probably came around trying to see if she was okay, not for Kara nor for the sake of their work... but to be a friend. Those thoughts softened her expression and made her remember some politeness. "Come on in, Sonny."

"Careful, she bites when she's angry," Kara said while Montserrat shut the door.

"I come bearing gifts," Sonny raised his hand that held a white plastic bag.

"You didn't have to," Montserrat was now feeling exceptionally guilty for her behavior earlier in the day.

"After that kind of fight, yeah, I had to," Sonny held the bag for her to take.

"I heard plural which just makes me feel awful," Montserrat admitted as she rummaged through the bag. A smile came to her face when she caught whiff of the familiar peanut butter cannolis inside one box. "And I guess Kara gets to enjoy my guilty moment."

"Why?" asked the blonde in question. She scarfed down her spaghetti and looked in their direction.

"Peanut butter cannolis," was all Montserrat had to say for Kara to jump out of her seat.

"Sonny, you didn't!?" she zipped towards them and practically yanked the bag out of Montserrat's hands to see for herself. She squeaked when she confirmed the cannolis and suddenly planted a kiss on Sonny's cheek.

Montserrat nearly laughed when she saw how red Sonny had become in less than a minute. She honestly didn't think Kara even realized what she'd done.

"You better apologize to him right now," Kara wagged a finger at Montserrat.

Montserrat rolled her eyes but did know when it was time to give in. "I am sorry, Sonny. I got carried away and I...it was not the place."

"Look, I get it, siblings can be…" Sonny wouldn't even finish that sentence because they all knew what he meant. "I just hope you're feeling better about things. Casey told us about...your mom? She said few things-" he said quickly before Montserrat assumed the worst, "-and I want you to know that Barba and I understand you were in a...special type of moment."

"Very special moment…" Kara muttered under her breath.

"Shut up," Montserrat warned her. "Go eat your spaghetti already."

"You made spaghetti?" Sonny's attention was momentarily driven towards Kara. "Did you use the recipe I left you?"

"Of course," Kara smiled. "And it really was better than that frozen crap Montse buys."

"Hey," went the ginger with offence. Now it was Kara who motioned for silence. "I'm going to my room," Montserrat announced and snatched the cannolis from Kara's hands. "Thanks Sonny. And just so we're clear, Kara's not getting any."

"Rude," Kara frowned and watched her roommate go off into the hallway.

Sonny chuckled and offered to buy more another day. That perked Kara right up. Montserrat's phone started buzzing against the glass coffee table, cutting short Kara's beam.

"I really hope it's not Gael trying to continue the fight," Kara mumbled as she went to get the phone.

"Maybe he's calling to apologize?" Sonny offered another alternative but Kara shook her head.

"Looks like we're both wrong," she grabbed the phone off the table and waved the phone at Sonny, letting him see the caller ID on the screen. "Your friend's calling to check up on Montse, maybe?"

Sonny made a face that Kara found difficult not to laugh at. "Barba would never call to 'check up' on anyone."

"You came to check up on Montse, why can't Rafael do the same?"

"Because he just doesn't."

Kara's face clearly said that wasn't an answer.

"He doesn't do that sort of stuff, trust me," and that left Sonny wondering why Rafael would choose to do start doing it now.

"Hm, then Montse must be special enough to catch his attention," Kara made way for the hallway but the phone stopped buzzing. "But apparently I'm slow to help." She turned back with a disappointed expression.

"You might be right about the first thing," Sonny conceded as he thought back to the various moments of strange behaviors between Montserrat and Rafael. "But that could also be because she nearly had a kid in his courtroom."

Kara laughed. "One of Montse's finest moments. Whatever, if he meant to check up, he'll call again and this time I'll be ready." She bit her lip and looked back to the kitchen where her lonesome plate remained on the table. "I've made enough for two but it looks like Montserrat's already got dinner so...you want to stick around? Give me some feedback on the spaghetti."

"Okay," Sonny nodded. "But I doubt you got anything wrong. You're a good cook."

Kara chuckled. "I like to think that I am. C'mon, I'll get you a plate." She walked past Sonny and tucked Montserrat's phone in her back pocket to be on red alert in case Rafael were to call again. She probably should have given the phone to Montserrat but, truth be told, she was curious herself about her roommate and the ADA.

To her surprise (and Sonny's), Rafael did call again that night.

~ 0 ~

Montserrat gripped her coffee cup all the way to her desk. She saw Olivia and Nick heading out, probably to continue questioning their latest victim. She plonked down at her desk and went back to her paperwork which seemed to get bigger every time she paused to look.

"You sure you don't want to take a break?" Amanda stopped by her desk with Fin beside her. "Our comfy Chinese place is always open for a third guest."

Montserrat smiled at the two. "No, I'm good. I'll get lunch later."

"And I'll make sure she actually does," Sonny reassured since they learned fast that Montserrat tended to skip meals when she felt swamped by work.

"Your call," Fin nodded to Amanda towards the hallway.

"You are getting lunch, right?" Sonny asked after the other two were gone.

"Yes, at some point," Montserrat dug her nose into a particular file.

Sonny rolled his eyes and went back to work at his end. He paused, though, when he noticed Montserrat picking at her hair every minute or so. "What are you doing?"

Montserrat put her pen down and groaned. "Kara keeps using me as her hair model and today was apparently a big ole crown braid." Her ginger hair was picked up with a large-sized crown braid adorning her her head from ear to ear.

"It looks nice," Sonny's compliment was met with a loud scoff.

"You're only saying that because Kara made it."

"You know, not everything I do is dependent on Kara."

"Sure."

Sonny decided to just keep quiet from now on.

Fifteen minutes passed and Montserrat finished her coffee - or drowned it - so she got up for a refill.

"Sonny, you want one?"

"Nah, let's head out for lunch already," his suggestion flew over Montserrat's head as the ginger went to get more coffee.

Montserrat returned two minutes later, surprised that Sonny hadn't continued calling her name out. Of course when she saw him talking to Rafael she understood why.

"They went to go talk to her, I promise," Sonny insisted yet Rafael still looked rather doubtful. "We're doing what you asked, alright? You can call Liv right now to confirm if you want."

Montserrat awkwardly cleared her throat as she neared her desk, gaining both men's attention. "Are we finished…?"

"You're one to talk," Rafael scoffed, but Montserrat took that with a nod. She deserved it.

"C'mon councilor," Sonny gave a disapproving tilt of his head towards Rafael.

"No, it's totally fine, Sonny," Montserrat shrugged her shoulders, though her casualness seemed to end at her fingertips since she was once again gripping her coffee cup. "I was rude, so...you two get a free pass."

"It shouldn't be like that," Rafael was the one to say as he considered once more the circumstances of her outburst.

"I wasn't professional and I accept that," Montserrat nodded. "You were the one to tell me, after all. Leave my problems at home and any other thing related to my personal life. Work is a place for work only."

And as she said all that, Rafael felt that twinge of guilt knowing he was virtually doing the exact opposite of his words right now. Because of that, he felt obligated to let her episode go. More than that, it was the right thing to do.

"Montserrat it's fine." The usage of her first name made Montserrat smile - it was a sure sign he forgave her completely.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Rafael nodded at her in return. His eyes gazed at the pretty empty bullpen and figured no one would be returning anytime soon despite the cases going on. He watched as Montserrat pull her desk chair to sit back down. Even as she tried to get back to work, it was easy to tell the problems with her brother weren't letting her focus.

He honestly felt that.

And maybe it was because he felt they were in a similar place at the moment, or...maybe for another reason he didn't know of, but he spoke up with a request. "Montserrat do you want to get something to eat?"

Montserrat paused and looked up, momentarily surprised since they hadn't had a meal together in a while now. The fact Sonny's eyes were flickering from her to Rafael - not so discreetly - made it all a little more on the spot.

Was her face warm?

"I would…" Montserrat was in the middle of making her answer when she recalled Sonny's insistence to get lunch together already. She quickly looked at the lanky detective with wide eyes. "But I told you I'd get lunch with y-"

Sonny raised his hands to show it was fine. "No, no, I've still got work to do." A lie. He was starving. "You go ahead."

"O-okay," Montserrat reached for her bag tucked in one of her drawers then looked to Rafael with a growing smile. "My turn to pay?"

"No, it's on me," he smiled right back at her. He felt awkward with the staring eyes of Sonny so he hoped Montserrat would get a move on already.

"I'll see you later," Montserrat told Sonny as she got up to leave.

"Hey, when is Kara's lunch hour?" Sonny's question earned him a deadpanning look from the ginger woman. "Hey, if you get to go on a date, then I get to go on a date."

"It's not a date," went Montserrat and Rafael simultaneously, quickly exchanging glances with each other to make sure the other knew they didn't think it was a date.

"Fine," Sonny picked his battles carefully and decided Kara would probably have a much better idea on how to go about this. "But seriously, when is her lunch hour?"

"Carisi, leave her alone," Rafael motioned Montserrat to walk ahead, and the look he gave Sonny just made things even more suspicious for Sonny.

Oh, Kara was definitely going to have something to say about this.

~ 0 ~

Steak. Steak was unofficially declared as the favorite meal.

"How could you get barbecue on that?" Rafael crinkled his nose when Montserrat practically savored her barbecued drenched steak.

"The real question is how could you not put barbecue on it," Montserrat smiled widely after swallowing.

"Some of us have taste," Rafael's straight answer made her laugh.

"And some of us are just plain rude. Guess who's who?"

Rafael took that as a tie between them and took more of his plate. It was refreshing to have someone who could keep up with his 'sharp mouth' as Olivia often said he had. As he ate, he watched her cautiously like he was waiting for something. And it seemed like Montserrat knew just what he was waiting for.

"I'm not gonna shout at you again. Gael's not here," she reminded him and reached for her glass.

"But are you...are you doing better now?" he asked slowly, now fully taking Casey's warning to tread lightly on the subject.

Montserrat appreciated his concern. "I'm...better in that I don't feel like shouting at anyone. But Gael's still not speaking to me." And even as she tried to smile a little, it was easy to see how big of a struggle it was.

There were probably plenty ways to start, but for some reason Rafael couldn't think of the right way. "About...about your...your…"

"This is the first time I've seen you speechless, councilor," Montserrat's smile widened, becoming a genuine smile in the process. "Have to say, I like it. But don't do that in court."

Rafael rolled his eyes at her, though her small-time humor did make things easier sometimes for them. "I meant about...Regina?" he watched the sarcasm fade from her face all too fast.

"I have nothing to say about that woman," Montserrat grabbed her glass again, drinking as a form of retreat. It pretty much said the opposite of her words.

"Except it looks like you do." And that was the thing about Rafael, he was trained to be observant. "And the things Gael said…"

"Look," Montserrat tinkered with her glass on the table, "Gael hates our mother. He despises her because she walked out on us when we were kids. Now, h remembers more since he was older, so naturally he has more reason to hate her. He remembers the love and warmth Regina deprived him of...I don't." Her attempt at a careless shrug failed. "I was four. I can't remember her that well except she knitted me this little pink sweater that I used to wear everywhere. And I mean, mothers don't make things like that if they didn't love you, right?"

She knew it was an unfair question to make, putting Rafael on the spot like that (not that he wasn't used to it) but it was something that always nagged at her mind. If her mother went through the trouble of knitting that sweater then it had to mean she did it because she wanted to, because she loved her daughter. It was right... right?

"I shouldn't have asked that," she said once she'd gone through her thoughts twice and realized how out of line it was.

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have," Rafael's agreement elicited quite a look from Montserrat. "I mean, it's not like my answer is going to make a difference." He smirked when Montserrat understood his point. "Is it?"

"Sometimes I actually hate you," she muttered though he laughed it off.

"And yet you're still here. How's your lunch by the way?" His not-so-subtle reminder that he was paying for their lunch wasn't made for bad intentions but if not to remind her in general of their little agreements.

You didn't go out for meals with someone you actually hated.

"It's actually very good, thanks…" Montserrat debated whether or not to be very specific about what she was thanking him for since it borderlined a different line of their friendship. "Thank you," she ended up saying anyways, nervously fidgeting in her chair afterwards.

Rafael completely understood her and nodded. "Anytime."

Montserrat found herself smiling more than she should have and quickly looked to her half-eaten food on her plate. "Okay, we're done with the unprofessionalism for now I promise."

"Novak, you don't have to keep worrying about that. Trust me, I finally understand it's not that easy being so detached."

Now that pulled Montserrat's gaze off her food in a millisecond. "I'm sorry, are you saying you were wrong?"

Rafael deadpanned her but even that didn't stop her from looking so wide-eyed. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," he warned.

"But I'm not acting…"

Rafael searched her face for any indication that she knew of their recent case's problem, but there was nothing. "H-how...you do know about our case at the moment, right?"

"With the shoe model? Yeah, I've been following it like everyone else. Why?"

"Novak you're not kidding me, are you?"

"No, I am not. What did I miss?"

Rafael wondered how out of it Montserrat had to have been for her not to know what their case was doing to him and the squad. So, he began to tell her just how close he was to the suspect in their custody at the moment.

"Wait a minute, so you're friends with our mayor-to-be Alex Muñoz?" Montserrat chuckled at the irony. "Kara loves him. She has me and Sonny already lining up to vote for him."

"Well, Alex is a pretty good candidate," Rafael said as impartially as possible.

"Yeah, and a flirt," Montserrat's statement did not pass well with him.

"Excuse me?"

"I met him outside the DAs building just before meeting with Gael. I only talked to him for like two minutes and it was enough to confirm he is a flirt." Montserrat reached for her glass on the table. "He gave me his number and everything."

"He's married," Rafael said with a deep frown on his face, though the fact Montserrat nearly choked on her drink made him believe she didn't know that detail.

"What?" the poor woman reached for a napkin to dry her mouth. Her big wide eyes looked at him for some explanation.

"He's married and has three daughters. How did you not know that?"

"Because I work a ten hour shift?" Montserrat snapped and cleared her throat. "Hey, I did not flirt with him. You can ask Sonny - he was there. I didn't do anything."

"Maybe you misunderstood Alex's intentions," Rafael said alternatively, though there was something in the pit of his stomach that told him something else that was wrong was already brewing.

Montserrat would have argued that she most certainly did not misread his intentions but he already looked so...conflicted about the case. She didn't want to make things worse. "So, you grew up with these guys?"

Rafael slowly nodded his head. "Yeah…" but even then he still wasn't shifting away from the other topic.

Montserrat tried again and hoped for some luck. "Were you really close? Or was it like a hello-bye basis thing?"

"N-no, um…" Rafael shook his head and got back into the topic at hand. "We grew up together. The three of us. Los tres mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue. The three musketeers of Jerome Avenue."

Montserrat laughed. "Like the three musketeers, that's adorable. And I will be sure to remind you of that whenever you need it. Or when I feel like it."

A smile came to Rafael's face whether he had wanted it or not. "The joy."

"So you guys were like a close a team, then?"

"Mhm. Alex had the heart. I had the mouth, of course-"

"Of course," Montserrat smiled so widely it might have cracked her face in two.

"Eddie had the muscle to protect us when we got into trouble."

"And what kind of trouble did our young ADA get into?"

"Stop it."

"Impossible." Montserrat leveled his look until her lips curled into a smile, which was done in a pretty impressive time. Anyone else would have looked away out of sheer uncomfortableness. Eventually, she gave in but only because she wanted to get to something really important. "I hate to bring it up but please tell me you're not actually wanting us to...look the other way in this case because you happen to know the perp?"

The sheer 'perp' mention made Rafael uncomfortable. He never wanted to believe any of his friends could be capable of some atrocity. "I would never do that. I am only asking that you all get the facts before taking any action."

"...fair enough," Montserrat conceded with a small nod of her head. "But can I ask you something now?"

"Of course."

"How did you know the perp was a friend of yours? My understanding is you don't get involved until we call you and...I distinctly remember you being there when we first brought Eddie in."

"Alex came to talk to me," Rafael said, shrugging his shoulders and missing Montserrat's moment of pause.

"So...our mayor-to-be had time to do all this when he's near the elections?"

Rafael was about to take a drink but paused midway to give Montserrat a look. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm sorry to say but people in Alex's situation don't really have time to look for anyone's back but their own," Montserrat expected some type of reprimand for her words judging by the look on Rafael's face.

"Eddie's been volunteering for him. He's been driving him around during the campaign and since - like I said before - we are all childhood friends, it's natural we try to help each other out."

"Right," Montserrat was smart enough to know it was time to keep her mouth shut. She didn't know who these men were so she should probably leave that up to Rafael for when the case gets further made. Still, now that she knew more details about the case there were some conflicts she could see coming into play very soon.

Just as they were finishing up their lunch, Rafael heard his phone go off. Soon as he fished it out of his pocket, he saw Olivia's name on the screen. "It's Liv." His tone of voice radiated anxiety so Montserrat assured him she was all done with lunch.

The two returned to the precinct quickly and listened - just like the others - as Olivia and Nick relayed their latest visit to Lindsey. Apparently, she was taking everything back and even adding new details...ones that didn't fit really well.

"Lindsay told you Eddie came into the store with his wife?" Rafael raised an eyebrow at Nick. "No chance. He hasn't seen her in three years. She's partying in Miami…"

"Are you sure?" Nick had still decent suspicion towards their perp and wasn't going to be letting it go just because said perp happened to know their ADA. "Cause he still wears his ring."

"I'm sure. Eddie's... eh, he's just catolico, loyal."

"So Lindsay saw the ring, tried to make up a story," Olivia was on the boat of keeping peace amongst them. "Yeah, then she says that she'd be more comfortable just talking to Nick."

"Because she thinks she has a better chance of working the male partner," Amanda made a face of disapproval, shared by the rest.

"So she's lied to you, tried to manipulate you…" Rafael almost started listing off with his fingers when Nick cut in.

"So did Eddie."

"I know Eddie's story," Rafael said all too quick, warning a mini-glare from Nick. "What's hers? Find out. Now." He gave all of them a sharp look before heading out.

"Great going, I had him relaxed twenty minutes ago," Montserrat made it as a joke but some of them took it to heart.

"Yeah, we heard about your impromptu date from Sonny," Fin said with a tiny of a smirk on his lips.

"It was not a - wait, where's Sonny?" Montserrat looked around for the lanky detective.

"He's with that roommate of yours," Amanda answered her and almost laughed at the wide-eyed look Montserrat did.

"I'll kill him." She huffed and went for her desk to get started on their work.

"Not until after 10 you won't," Olivia said a she passed Montserrat. "I need everyone working on this right now."

Montserrat huffed but obeyed. Of course it didn't help one bit when Sonny returned fifteen minutes later wearing a big smile on his face. Clearly he had a good time. And when she got home that night, Kara would be up and ready to tell Montserrat how much of a good time she had too.

"He just, like... surprised me! He finally brought me to that place he goes to when he brings cannolis! Let me just tell you that they are better fresh at the store - Montse?" Kara paused when she saw the ginger rubbing her temples. Montserrat had a laptop set in front of her but it appeared whatever she'd been looking at was no longer her interest.

"Kara, this is not a good idea," Montserrat dropped her hands to the kitchen table.

"What isn't?"

"You, Sonny...whatever that even is - it's not a good idea."

Kara's eyebrows knitted together. "Why not?"

"Because of it doesn't work out, guess who's gonna be the one that'll be stuck in the middle?" Montserrat swirled her index finger before pointing at herself with it. "Me."

"That's kind of selfish, don't you think?" Kara plopped down at chair next to her.

"No, just being mindful of a potential future."

Kara playfully rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you for your concern but as far as I'm concerned, things are going just fine. It is, after all, my life." Montserrat sighed not so quietly but did concede with Kara on that point. "Besides, if anyone should be mindful of who they go out with, it should be you."

It was Montserrat's turn to be thoroughly confused. "Me? What for?"

A smirk tugged at Kara's lips as she answered the question. "Sonny mentioned that you basically dumped him at lunch today for the ADA."

"I'm seriously going to kill him," Montserrat shook her head. "We won't have to worry about things not working out because he'll be found dead tomorrow morning."

Kara laughed at her roommate's dramatics. "Oh c'mon, he did you a solid. Anyone else would've been on your ass for leaving them right before lunch."

Knowing exactly where Kara was headed at, Montserrat decided to beat her to it and explain the famous lunch she has today. "I still needed to apologize and Rafael suggested we go to lunch-"

"-suggested or asked because Sonny mentioned it was more of an ask-"

"-stop! I'll kill him!"

Kara laughed again. Montserrat slammed her laptop lid shut and moved to get up, prompting Kara to sober quickly. "Okay, okay, I'll stop!" she put one hand over Montserrat's arm. "I honestly thought it was kind of sweet he asked you, even when you've been avoiding him for days. Anyone else would've...well...avoided you too."

Montserrat sighed realizing Kara was right. She let herself fall back into her chair. "Yeah, it was. Rafael has his moments."

"A lot with you," Kara muttered not so quietly. Montserrat practically growled and got up from her chair. She made a beeline for her room. "I'm sorry!" Kara laughing didn't exactly help Montserrat believe her.

"You're a child!" Montserrat shouted before slamming her bedroom door shut.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Healing (Part 1)

Summary: Ethan is forced to confront his past after an unexpected meeting

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @sparklinglilac  @cream-ray @perriewinklenerdie @barricades-of-freedom @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms

~~V~~

Ethan wakes up to kisses. First on his shoulder, then down his arm, and up his chest to his neck. “Mhmmm, Rookie.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Well, I’m up. Keep me company.”

Ethan cracks open one eye and sees his girlfriend Naomi peering down at him like a kid on Christmas morning. She’s so close, tendrils of her curly hair are tickling his face. “I was having a really good dream.”

“What dream is better than having me in bed with you, Dr. Ramsey?”

She knows he’s a sucker for her using his official title when they’re home alone. “You and I were on vacation.”

“Where were we? Somewhere warm or in the snow?”

“Warm. Private island right off the coast of Fiji.”

“Ooh, maybe I should let you go back to sleep. Or maybe this is a sign that you should actually take me on vacation.”

Ethan rolls over and gives Naomi a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, handsome.”

“So what are the plans for the day?” It’s one of those rare Sunday mornings where they didn’t have to work. And Naomi always tries to make the most of their off days together.

“I didn’t make any plans,” Naomi confesses.

“Really?”

“No. It’s a rainy day, I figured we could spend it in bed.” It had been a very long week at Edenbrook. Naomi wants nothing more than to stay in bed with Ethan, watch some reality tv, and eat greasy food.

“Well if that was the case, you could’ve let me sleep,” Ethan teases.

“What if I wanted to do something in this bed that is much more fun than sleep?”

“Oh yeah?” Ethan raises an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

Naomi grins and climbs on top of Ethan, straddling him. “It involves you and me.”

“And do we get naked?”

“Oh, we most certainly do.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Ethan grabs Naomi by the back of her neck and pulls her down, kissing her eagerly. Without breaking their kiss, he loops an arm around her and flips them over, so he’s now hovering above her.

His hand travels up her bare thigh and settles at her hip, making her squirm. Naomi is notoriously ticklish, something Ethan enjoys taking advantage of. He inches his hand up higher, his fingers skimming her sides.

Naomi gaps and tries to disguise it as a cough. “Ethan!”

He feigns innocence. “What?”

“Stop, you know I’m–” she yelps and giggles as he digs his fingers deeper into her side. She snorts and that only spurs Ethan on further. “Ticklish!”

“I happen to think it’s adorable.” Ethan drops his head slightly and kisses Naomi again. He leaves a trail of open mouth kisses on her jaw and neck, careful to not leave any visible marks or bruises. He grips the hem of her shirt again, prepared to pull it off of her this time.

Before he can go any further, the doorbell rings.

“Was that the door?” Naomi asks, her eyes snapping open. She tries to roll out of Ethan’s grasp, but he holds her in place.

“Yes, but who cares. Ignore it.”

Ethan resumes kissing her, instantly forgetting about whoever was just at his front door mere moments ago. But the doorbell rings again, this time twice.

“We should answer,” Naomi says. “It might be important.”

Naomi manages to untangle herself from Ethan and she laughs at the pout adorning his face. She pecks him on the lips and pulls away before he can deepen the kiss.

“Naomi Valentine, you are a tease.”

She smirks wickedly at him and grabs her bathrobe that’s laying at the foot of the bed, tying it. “I’ll be back in a sec, you horny old man.”

Rushing out of their bedroom, Naomi makes her way to the front door, opening it. There’s a woman standing there. She’s older — in her 60s — and pretty tall. She has light brown hair pulled into a neat bun on top of her head, huge blue eyes, and a worried look on her face.

Jenner moves from his pet bed in front of the fireplace in the living room and trots over to Naomi, curious as to who’s at the door. He barks loudly, ready to defend his household.

“Jenner, be nice,” Naomi scolds. She glances at the woman apologetically. “Ignore him, he’s a sweetheart.”

“Hi,” the woman greets slowly. “I think I have the wrong apartment.”

“Who are you looking for?” Naomi asks. “I know most of the tenants on this floor, maybe I can point you in the right direction.”

“Ethan Ramsey. Do you know which apartment is his?”

“Actually, you have the right one. Ethan lives here.” Naomi turns around and yells into the apartment, “Ethan! Someone is at the door for you!”

She can hear him muttering, annoyed at he has to get out of bed, but he comes into the living room anyway.

“Whoever it is better have a damn good reason for–”

He stops dead in his tracks as he saw who was at his front door. “Mom?”

Ethan’s mom smiles brightly upon seeing him. “Ethan! Oh oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you.” She practically throws herself at him, her arms clutching around his neck tightly. He goes rigid for a few moments before reciprocating the hug.

His mom breaks away from the hug after a few seconds. “Sorry for ambushing you like that. I just got excited.”

“It’s alright.”

She turns back to Naomi, a warm smile on her face. “Forgive me, where are my manners?” She extends a hand. “Margaret Ramsey, Ethan’s mom.”

“Naomi Valentine, Ethan’s girlfriend,” Naomi replies, shaking the older woman’s hand.

“You are the prettiest thing!” Margaret coos. She squeezes Naomi’s hand affectionately. 

“Thank you.”

 “Are you a doctor as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re so sweet. There’s no need to call me ma’am. Margaret is fine, or Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you, Margaret.”

Ethan clears his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “Mom, what are you doing here? It’s 8 o'clock in the morning, on a Saturday.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I forced your sister to give me your address.”

“Why are you here, in Boston?” Confused is an understatement. Ethan’s parents lived in New York. Why was his mom in Boston?

Margaret wrings her hands. She’s anxious. Naomi picks up on it instantly and steps in. “How about I make us some tea? Or coffee?”

“Tea sounds lovely.”

“Great.”

Ethan gestures for his mother to have a seat. She sits in the comfortable chair across from the couch, where Ethan sits. A few minutes later, Naomi joins them, three cups of tea in her hands.

“This is a lovely apartment, Ethan,” Margaret starts. “It’s so...open and airy. You have a great view.”

“Thank you. That view cost me a lot of money.”

“The best ones usually do.”

And then they’re back to awkward silence.

“So...how’s work?” Margaret asks in an attempt to break the ice.

That’s when Ethan knows something is up. His mother has never expressed much interest in his work before, even when he was still on decent terms with them.

“Mom, let’s not beat around the bush. What are you doing out here? Does dad know you’re here?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here, in your home, but yes, he knows I’m in Boston. He’s here with me,” Margaret answers. “He’s still at the hotel, probably asleep.”

“Okay. Well, what brings you to Boston?”

Margaret chews her lip thoughtfully, as if she’s trying to find and choose her words carefully. “Your father...the doctor’s found a tumor on his spine, and it’s cancerous.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything immediately, not having the words to express how he feels about the situation.

“Dad has cancer?”

Margaret nods sadly. “It started out with him having some minor aches and pains. We brushed it off as him just getting older. Then we bought a new mattress, but that didn’t help. Then Bill started having difficulty walking. His doctors originally thought it might’ve been arthritis, but we kept pushing. Finally a neurologist confirmed that it’s cancer of the spinal cord.”

Naomi runs her fingers over Ethan’s knuckles. He’s tense. She grabs hold of his hand and he squeezes tightly, using her as his lifeline.

“So what are you going to do? What’s the treatment plan? Who’s his doctor?”

“Since it’s a pretty rare form of cancer, we had to outsource, which is why we’re here. We are going to meet with his doctor tomorrow at Mass Kenmore–”

“Mass Kenmore?” Ethan can’t hide his disdain. “No, absolutely not. No way is dad going to a podunk, second rate hospital for treatment. When Mass Ken doesn’t have the tools or doctors to help a patient, they send them to Edenbrook.”

“Your father really likes the surgeon he found.”

“Harper Emery is one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and I work with her.”

“Your father is a stubborn old man, Ethan,” Margaret says. “You know that better than anyone. He’s found a doctor, he likes him. I didn’t come here for your expertise as a doctor, I’m just a mother who hasn’t seen her son in years. And since we were in town, I thought it’d be nice to reach out. It’s been...far too long since we’ve seen each other.”

There was a large elephant in the room, a dark cloud hanging over them. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in 4 years, and he hadn’t seen them in well over 10. 

“Your father and I were thinking of going out to dinner tonight. How about you two join us?”

Naomi opens her mouth to accept the invitation, but she stops herself. She glances at Ethan, a pensive look clouding his handsome features and she falls back. Accepting the invitation on his behalf is a complete overstep of boundaries.

“We’ll think about it,” Naomi offers you diplomatically.

“Of course. We have reservations at Meritage for 7 PM,” Margaret says. “Hopefully we’ll see you there.” She checks the time on her watch. “I should get back to the hotel.”

Naomi walks Margaret to the door, seeing the older woman off. When she turns back to the living room, Ethan is still on the couch, almost as if he’s frozen.

“Ethan? Ethan, baby are you okay?”

Ethan looks up and sees Naomi staring at him, concern etched across her face. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He stands up. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Ethan–”

“Naomi, you asked a question, I responded. Why do you keep trying to prod?”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. She knows all of Ethan’s defense mechanisms like the back of her hand. He’s trying to push her away.

“Why are you holding me at arm’s length?”

“I’m not,” Ethan argues as he makes his way back to their bedroom, Naomi following right behind.

“You are. And you should by now that I’m incredibly stubborn, so I won’t let you do it.” She watches as Ethan gets back into bed. She slides in as well, placing her head on his chest. “You just found out that your dad has cancer. That’s a lot to take on. So can you please talk to me?”

“My dad has cancer,” Ethan repeats. “And he didn’t tell me.”

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll beat it. I’m sure he’s stubborn and a fighter like you.”

“Stubborn is one word for it,” Ethan says with a snort.

Naomi laces their fingers together. “You never talk about them, your parents.”

“My dad runs his father’s brokerage firm in Manhattan. Very wealthy, very strict, very stuffy.”

“Sounds familiar,” Naomi teases.

“I have no interest in finance, in New York society, none of it. My younger sister though, she’s my dad’s pride and joy. She’s basically a miniature version of him, though nicer and much prettier. She’s the only one I still keep in contact with.”

Naomi nods. Ethan’s talked about his sister, Vanessa multiple times, and she’s even came to Boston with her husband to visit them.

“When I graduated high school, and told my parents I was going to study biology and chemistry at Dartmouth, he was upset. I was supposed to be the prodigal son, follow in his footsteps, take over the business, marry a descendant of the Rockefellers or Vanderbilts. My mom tried to mediate for a while, but it all fell flat, and I eventually stopped contact with them. I had to put myself through college and medical school because my dad wouldn’t pay, and I didn’t want his money either. The last time I’ve physically seen my dad was my medical school graduation. We argued at my celebration dinner. He told me that I wasn’t going to hack it as a doctor and I’d eventually come crawling back to New York, and I told him he doesn’t understand real success because he's had everything handed to him. He called me a spoiled brat, and I said he was manipulative and spiteful.”

Naomi doesn’t say anything as Ethan vents. It’s obvious he just needs to get all of this out without interruption. 

“My father’s love is conditional. It comes with strings and clauses. I hated him and I was so resentful for such a long time, maybe I still am, I don’t know.”

Ethan gets out of the bed and Naomi watches as he paces the floor, back and forth, back and forth.

“I want nothing more than to never think about William Ramsey ever again, but the other half of me wants to gloat. I put myself through 8 years of school. I graduated at the top of my class. I’ve received awards from the American Medical Association, I’ve given keynote speeches at some of the most prestigious medical conferences in the world. I’ve published more researched, been featured in more journals than I can count. I’ve written best selling books and textbooks. I am the best at my job, no one does it better than me. I live in a multi-million dollar penthouse in the heart of Boston, paid for by no one other than myself, I have an amazing and brilliant girlfriend, I am great. I am at the top of my game.”

“It’s okay to still crave your parents’ approval,” Naomi tells him softly. 

“But why do I? What makes them so special that I still feel the need to seek validation from them when they haven’t done a damn thing for me.”

“And he has cancer,” Ethan adds. “And he’s probably anxious and scared, and I feel horrible and selfish for feeling all of these things while he’s fighting for his life.”

Naomi gets out of the bed and walks over to where Ethan is pacing. She wraps her arms tightly around his waist. He breaths out a heavy sigh of relief at her touch and melts into the hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

They’re locked in the embrace for a long time, and Naomi feels a few of his tears hit her exposed skin. She doesn’t mind.

“You’re allowed to feel how you feel, Ethan. You’re allowed to be selfish, though I don’t think you are. You’re allowed to have a wide array of emotions because you’re human. You can love your dad and still be mad at him.”

“And you don’t owe anything a damn thing. I’ll follow your lead on this. We don’t have to go to dinner with them tonight. We can stay in bed all day if you want. But if you do want to go, we can, and I’ll be right there with you.”

Ethan’s entire body sags with the weight of the decision. He truly doesn’t know what he wants.

“I want to go back to bed,” he says, his voice muffled, his head still in the crux of her neck. ��We can talk more after a nap.”

“That sounds good.”

Naomi leads them back to bed and Ethan all but falls into it. Once Naomi is in, he clings to her, his head on her chest, an arm wrapped tightly around her. She lightly runs her fingers through his hair, offering comfort.

“I love you,” Ethan whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, too.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Maybe you were really good in your past life. Rescued kittens from trees, walked old ladies across the street.”

Ethan laughs softly. “Whatever I did, I’m grateful.”

Naomi kisses the top of Ethan’s head. “Get some rest, baby.”

Ethan closes his eyes and allows himself to be lulled back to sleep by his girlfriend’s ministrations.

He’s going to see his father, maybe even confront him on some things. He’s never felt more sure of a decision, and he has Naomi and her support to thank.

He’ll tell her later though. First, he has a nap to take.

[connyr0]

CONNOR ROBERTS ( JOE KEERY ) is a 18 year old SENIOR student at Broadripple Academy. HE is originally from ELKHART LAKE, WI but moved to Broadripple 6 MONTHS ago. HE is HUMOROUS and PROTECTIVE but can also be AWKWARD and SKITTISH. –– penned by sam / 23 / aest / she/her

BASICS

Name: Connor Lyle Roberts

Age: Eighteen

Grade: Senior

House: Seton

Cabin Room: Room 3 of the Senior Cabin

How long have they been at Broadripple: Six months

Where are they from originally: Elkhart Lake Wisconsin

Extra curricular: Basketball + Photographer for the yearbook

Pinterest

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: humorous, protective, hopeless romantic, creative, thoughtful, loyal, empathetic

Neutral Personality Traits: chummy, absent minded, obedient, self conscious 

Negative Personality Traits: awkward, skittish, clingy, paranoid, moody, probably needs therapy, nostalgic

FACTS

from pretty early on in conny and his twin sister casey’s life, their father was not in the picture. there’s not many memories conny has of his dad when he was younger, mainly birthday cards that had nothing but empty words inside them. his mom made it work for her though, getting help with the twins from her parents while she finished college. and besides the whole absent father thing – the twins had a happy childhood and have a happy family.

things became complicated in the last year however. after being distant for many, many years the twins father decided he wanted to be a part of their lives again. what they learned was that while they had always been struggling, working class people, their father had become a successful business man, married, and had another child.

of course there was bitterness, wanting to cut him out completely, but there was also a want to connect with a father figure they’d never had an opportunity to connect with in the past – and on top of everything, he was offering to pay for the twins final year of high school, if they transferred to Broadripple.

it wasn’t quite an offer the twins could afford to turn down, even if it meant going to school with their half sister who is nothing like them. so off to Broadripple they went with absolutely no idea what they were in for

after arriving on campus they very quickly became interested in all the Weird Shit(TM). conny had been a true crime, cryptid, and paranormal fan for a while, spending a lot of his free time listening to various podcasts on the topics and being at Broadripple took it to the next level, he even saved up for a shitty night vision camera to aid his exploration of the weird goings on

HEADCANONS

conny has a crush on almost every girl at ba – he’s just a hopeless romantic. they don’t even have to be nice to him. some crushes are more meaningful than others, but like let him borrow a pen and he’ll think about it for the rest of the day probably. tell him off – he is afraid but admiring

shares a shitty mini van with his twin – affectionately called the pussy wagon (amongst friends, he is not shameless enough to say that to anyone). it is adorned with a Lot of shitty bumper stickers which started as a joke but has definitely gotten out of hand if u ask their mother. can be bullied very easily into giving people lifts places 

a sk8er boi – not a fan that the cabins kinda means he cant really skate anywhere but definitely brought his skateboard to the cabins anyway. because he’s an idiot

a horror movie whore a down right slut for wes craven,  and just films in general but like especially wes craven horrors. wants to work in film as a cinematographer and has started that project by being a bit of a camera collector, has a couple on campus and more in wisconsin. a lot of the ones in wisconsin are still broken and he’s working on fixing them up but the ones he has on campus are in working condition. wants a super 8 because he’s fucking basic what can i say.

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? Uh, he thinks its fucking weird that these cabins are just like conveniently available. he’s half convinced they’re walking into some cabin in the woods bullshit. but he’s a little bit excited? selfishly he wants to see some of the wealthier students struggle as they slum it for a bit. 

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? Not a huge amount but a bit. His mom works a lot so doesn’t really have a lot of time for weekends away and holidays and that sort of thing. he’s done a little bit with his friends from Wisconsin though, but it was essentially just backyard camping.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? like the rest of conny’s life: a mess. he’s just a messy person, he can’t help it. he’ll try and keep it contained to his space but it will occasionally spread out. also definitely brought that aforementioned scream poster with him.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? yes. definitely whole heartedly believes in ghosts and demons and aliens. anything more cryptid he’s kind of a wow that’d be crazy if that was real, and just likes reading about them and listening to podcasts and stories about them. that being said if he sees a big footprint in the woods he’s calling wolf on bigfoot immediately.

Are they easily spooked? yes lmao. like both by actually creepy things and just people not announcing themselves when they approach him. the only thing that doesn’t really get him are movies, he’s a little bit immune at this point lmao

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

Conny got “oh you gonna shit yourself bud” which is completely accurate i give it five minutes before he’s scared by his own shadow

[my-muses-in-op]

Birthday boy/man

Smiling, Izo walked with the now empty tray to the mess hall. As usual, he ot his breakfast served in his room on his birthday and today was no exception. Thatch loved to spoil him more than usual on this special day. As he came tot he open door, Marco already stod there, grabbing the tray and counted down.

“IZO.” The man braced himself, as Casey jumped into his waiting arms, face nuzzling against his nexk softly. “Happy birthday brother.” She grinned and purred softly, as he petted her head gently.

“Thank you, my little fox.” Izo chuckled, loving the happy and cheerful way Casey greeted him on his birthday. He loved the hug and cheeriness and it warmed him to see how strong and beautiful she got with every year he aged, but she still held onto the childish way of greeting him.

“Cas’ you’re going to squeeze all life out of him.” A soft voice chuckled and Izo smiled warmly to Ann, the young woman definitely didn’t mean Casey was harming him in anyway, it was just her teasing Casey. The response Ann got, was Casey sticking out her tongue at her, before kissing Izo’s cheek. Then and first then, did she leave the embrace, purring at the scratch behind the ear from Izo.

Stepping aside, she allowed Ann to give the man a hug. It was short, but held so much warmth and care. Izo knew that Ann wasn’t much for physical contact, which was why he loved her hugs. Today she lingered a little longer than usual.

“Happy birthday, Izo. I hope you’ll enjoy everything planned for you today.” She let go of him, smiling softly. He smiled back and clapped her shoulder gently.

“Thank you, Ann. If you have a drink with me later, I think I’ll be happy for everything planned.” He chuckled. His eyes went from the two youngest sisters and around the others. A lot of his brothers were eating breakfast, not paying much attention to the trio. By now they were used to it. After all, Izo wasn’t the only one Casey greeted like this on birthdays. Everyone - except for one - got that greeting and Izo often mused why that man didn’t get one, but let it slide for now. It was her decision and he respected it.

Marco smiled warmly, having brought the tray to the dirty dishes. It was the same as usual and he didn’t mind doing this. After all, he didn’t want to replace the broken dishes or hear Thatch scold Casey for beeing a little too wild, when she was so excited about her family’s birthdays.

“Come on, you should see your gift table.” Casey grabbed Izo’s hand, impatiently glaring at him. Chuckling he followed her out, knowing that his family would have enough time to wish him a happy birthday. The party wouldn’t start until later, as Thatch and the other cooks were working hard to get everything ready and perfect.

Outside people were busy setting up the last details for the party. Izo smiled at the effort putting into making everything perfect. Before he walked to his gift table, he went to Oyaji and greeted him. Casey let him, though she was glancing at the table now and then. Izo had a fond smile, loving how birthdays always made her a tad more childish. Even her own birthday now, though that had taken some time.

After a few words, he finally walked to the table, Casey bouncing next to him. It wasn’t much, only 25 or so gift, but he hadn’t expected more. One from each division, one from Oyaji, one from each of his best friends and surprisingly, one from the minks. He raised a brow at that, as he hadn’t expected that at all.

“I should say hello and a happy birthday from Neko and Inu.” Sheila’s voice reached his ear and he smiled. Of course it was her who had brought the gift. He turned to look at her, she looked ready for the party already, wearing that short kimono he’d giving her for her birthday a few years back. She looked amazing as always.

“Oh so you visited them last time you were traveling alone?” He smiled and gave her a short hug, as she wished him a happy birthday.

“I happened to pass them, so I thought why not visit my old friends.” She ave him a short smile, which was more than she usual did. He looked at the gift and decided that it would be the one he opened first. What had they decided to give him? He was curious, but had to wait until the party had started. For now he could just see whom had all giving him something. It warmed him to know that people cared to find something for him.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Casey smiled happily, before letting his hand go. “Well, I still have things to do before the party. Enjoy your day off, Izo and I’ll see you later.” With that she took off, bouncing a little as she walked.

Izo smiled and then turned to walk to his favorite spot. Sheila silently joining him. They would later be accompanied by Ann, but for now it was only to´he two of them and they started to talk about a book both had read. Neither needed to move themselves to get a drink, their brothers more than happy to bring some for them.

It was a nice start of a wonderful day and Izo wouldn’t want to change anything. Not even when Thatch ended up too drunk and ran around in his boxers. At least this time he kept them on. Nor when Ace dropped upon him, drooling on his kmino, as the boy had a narcoleptic attack. Spending time with his family like this worth the drunk stupidity that happened. Izo was happy.

[dbssh]

Do all the prime numbers!!!

2 - What is your character’s happiest memory?

Aja and Hutch would both probably say the day Casey was born.

3 - What’s one skill your character really wishes they had?

Aja really wishes she could play music. She also wants nice handwriting but thats neither here nor there.

5 - Do they like music? If so, what kind of music do they enjoy?

I ACTUALLY HAVE PLAYLISTS SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS. aja, casey, victor, and hutch

7 - Have they ever encountered someone they really wanted to kill?

well. aja and victor have definetly at some point wanted to kill each other so theres that!

11 - What was something they struggled with greatly and how did they overcome it?

Aja has always struggled with self-worth and morality. Honestly she still hasn't really "overcome" it entirely.

13 - Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them?

In all honesty, Aja would probably die for anyone if thats what was necessary. She's got a big thing about being Heroic and Good and if protecting someone else, anyone else, means putting her own life in danger, she'll do it without hesitation.

17 - How was their childhood? Did their parents treat them fairly? Did they have any really good friends?

Hutch's childhood was pretty nice, until their mom passed. Their best friends were their brothers and cousins, and they didn't really ever have a lot of friends outside of that.

19 - Have they ever lost a loved one?

uhhh well. uh. the only one who hasnt actually lost anyone is Casey. everyone else is just like. My whole family is dead dot jpeg.

23 - Does your character know any languages apart from their native language? What one would they like to learn?

Victor speaks german and french, Hutch speaks spanish and gnomish, and Casey speaks spanish. Aja knows a little spanish but not really enough to be fluent, and she'd like to learn more.

29 - If they could change just one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Hutch would make themselves taller, Casey would make herself shorter. Victor would fix his eyesight so he didn't need glasses anymore. Aja is very adamant that she will not edit her body and that she has to learn to coexist with it and that thinking about this kind of stuff is a waste of time.

31 - How patient is your character with others? Do they find it easy to handle people that try and bug them, or hard?

Aja has worked very very hard to learn to be patient and calm, and she's kind of hard to irritate. Hutch is, on the other hand, very irritable especially if you hit em in the right place. They're kinda insecure lol. Victor is also pretty insecure and irritable tho he tends to just get mopey when his ego is bruised.

37 - How advanced is the technology in your character’s world? Do they have mobile phones and high-tech computers yet or have they far surpassed that?

my worldbuilding technique is called "exactly what i need it to be for the scene with very little internal consistency and just trust me guys".

41 - Where do they live? What is that place like, do they enjoy living there?

Aja and Hutch live in the little middle of nowhere town Hutch grew up in. It's really nice! they live about 30 minutes from the town proper so theyre pretty isolated, and its a small town made of mostly non-human folk anyways so they don't really have to worry about things like they do in bigger cities.

43 - What are they like when they’re drunk?

Aja can't get drunk so she doesnt drink. Hutch is like... themselves but a bit more bold with less self control. sometimes they get really mopey though.

47 - If your character could be any other species, what would they be?

i dont know! never thought about it

53 - Do they have an alternate form?

victor has his lich form! and casey has (redacted)

61 - What would have to be the most interesting thing about where your character lives?

uhhh idk! its very plain and a bit old-fashioned.

71 - How is your character’s bedroom? Is it small, big, colourful, simple, messy, organised, filled with their things, shared…? 

aja and hutch's room is mostly bed because they have a Large bed because it has to be big enough to fit aja comfortably, but they also have lots of shelves and drawers and just Stuff! they both have a lot of little things they collected over the years and they both love having Things so. lots of knicknacks and photos and souviniers.

73 - If your character knew what they know now when they were younger would they do things in their life differently?

this is actually one of the big points of tension between aja and victor, because she doesnt like to wonder about this kind of thing and for him, thinking about how he couldve done everything differently is one of the Only things he thinks about. but no, Aja wouldnt really change anything if given the opportunity because she doesnt want to put the life she has now, with Hutch and Casey, in jepoardy, and she doesnt know if she would be there without what happened in her past. Victor would do literally everything differently if given the chance tho. this man has never made a decision he didnt regret.

79 - Which one do they prefer; knowing when they die or how they die?

hutch doesnt really care either way, they try to live in the moment. Aja would want to know when, Victor would want to know how so he could do everything in his power to avoid it.

83 - Have they ever had to tell someone a lie to protect them? Did they regret doing it or not?

this is a bitch answer but no not really

89 - Does your character like the ocean, or are they more of a land person? Perhaps they prefer specific bodies of water, like ponds and rivers, or specific locations on the land, like forests and mountains?

Aja loves the ocean, but shes equally as passionate about any bit of nature. Hutch cant swim 😔 they prefer the land, with a definite love of hot places and desert areas. Casey loves any and all natural places like her mama. Victor doesnt give a shit either way but mountains are ok i geuss.