#i do know there's at least one in a mall in the suburbs but that was at least 5 years ago

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Does anyone know any good coffee chains that make affronts to coffee in drink form??? You can't say starbucks because we don't have them in my state and I'd rather die than set foot in one by myself.

[mcmansionhell]

a fine selection of bonker facades from the DC suburbs

Howdy folks! In honor of Halloween, here are some of the scariest houses currently for sale in the ever-cursed suburbs of Washington, DC. It's been awhile since I checked in on this particular hotspot, and once more, it did not disappoint.

I'll just get this one out of the way. Long-time McMansion Hell-heads are well aware of this monster estate in Potomac, MD, once allegedly owned by a particular professional athlete who will not be named, because the house should suck on its own merit. The only nice thing I can say about this house is that the designers kept the materials and colors consistent, which adds some unity to what is, in reality, five turrets in a trench coat.

Some things, the economists tell us, are too big to fail. This is not one of them. Let's move on.

Many McMansions exist to mock the concept of architectural consistency and historical continuity. This is one of them. About every single type of expanded second-story window elaboration exists here: bay window, covered balcony, juliet balcony. None of them work. The house can't decide if its 19th century eclecticism or tony DC Georgian/Federal cocktail. The random cupola merely adds insult to injury.

I don't know where realtors learned how to do photoshop, but whoever taught them should have their Adobe licenses revoked. There's a certain type of McMansion I call a "hat house" - which is exactly what it sounds like. It's a house with multiple bays or masses and each has its own special hat. This is one of the most egregious examples because all of the hats are different shapes and scales. Not even the most Disney Theme Park pink sky and fairy lighting can mitigate the controlling aesthetic influence of hät.

No compilation of Bad Facades would be complete without at least one Frankentudor™. Rich people in America really like to harken back to the days of feudalism, yet uglier, more drab, and using materials mostly derived from petrochemicals. The lighting is not helping this house, which is about as gloomy, hulking, and bloated as they come.

I have some fondness for houses that derive new, inventive forms of being ugly. The spread eagle McMansion is one of them, two oblique wings with no real core. A corner lot specimen. This one is especially weird, with the quadruple portholes, the windowless bays, the mall foyer, and the hipped roof that's not quite clipped, complete with tacked on gables. Kind of neat, sad to say.

I know most of you won't agree, but I actually believe this is the worst McMansion of the set. The absolute banality of it, the out-of-proportion everything, the compound-like demeanor, the nonsensical spacing of the mind-numbingly identical windows. The most infuriating part is that whoever designed this had some kind of order, continuity, proportion in mind and just failed utterly at it, like Sideshow Bob stepping on all those rakes. I hate it!!!!

When rich people try to make overly-inflated temples to their dumb piles of money, it's deeply satisfying when they end up looking like this house, which is just a pile of roof and wall tacked on to the worst proportioned portico imaginable. Classic McMansion Hubris. Let us all laugh.

Now we're getting into the more eldritch horror part of the list. Some houses make me wonder if I have the same set of eyeballs and conceptions of what "a house" looks like as other people. This one is playing dress up games with foam stickers. It looks like Steve's shirt from Blues Clues. It abuses the prairie muntins, which is an insult to my chosen hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Bad house.

Not enough time is devoted on this blog to bad modernism, though it would be rather generous to call this house modern. It's more like postmodernism trying to remember what modernism looked like and tripping down a flight of stairs collecting random masses and windows on the way down. Houses like this give modern architecture a bad name. It's borderline libel. Also it looks like it was made out of cardboard.

This brings us to our final, and objectively worst house:

I don't even know what to say about this freak of architecture. I don't know how it came together or why. I don't know what it wants or even pretends to do. It is a horrorshow. Gables protruding from random places, stealth roof fragments, windows too small for the walls they're embedded in, a weird cathedral-like entrance, the mosquito-infested pond, the worst example of realtor sky I've ever seen, all of it is terrible. It's haunted. Trick or Treat, but without the treat.

Anyway, that does it for this installment. If you're curious about more McModern badness, this month's Patreon bonus post will be to your liking!

Happy Halloween and Día de Los Muertos!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including extra posts and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 51

part 1 | part 50 | ao3

Knowing the weirdness is coming doesn't make it less weird.

Steve clings to Jeff's warning like a lifeline in the days after the attack, as Eddie swings wildly from withdrawn and paranoid to brash and itching for a fight. One second he's tackling Steve in a public park, sweeping him off his feet and swinging in a wide, reckless circle, the next he's shooting dodgy glances over his shoulder and suggesting they come up with some kind of tapping code when they want to communicate the urge to kiss or hug in public.

His face is a mess for weeks.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Hardly wants to look at it — takes to avoiding mirrors and fucking Steve from behind, or turning off all the lights, or hiding his face behind his hair when he gets between Steve’s legs. Plays it off like he’s just being sexy, trying something new, ‘isn’t this exciting?’ But Steve’s pretty sure he just doesn’t want to see the worry in Steve’s eyes when their kisses hurt his face.

So Valentine's Day comes and goes, and Steve doesn't say it; doesn't say 'I love you,' because he's never sure he's going to get the version of Eddie who’s brave enough to say it back. They don't even do anything for the holiday, really, which kind of kills Steve, even if he won't admit it.

He can't help it; he's a sap.

They do share a heart-shaped box of chocolates in Eddie’s bed the day after, though. Led Zeppelin crooning softly from the record player, and Steve plays it off like he only bought them because they were half off, and Eddie gives him a gooey look and pushes him into the pillows. Blows him within an inch of his young life; smiles up at him at the end, lips slick and full and pretty. Steve thinks, maybe they're okay.

They’ll be okay.

Eddie may still be a little off, a little wobbly, but he’s laughing again, he’s silly and animated again, he’s playing guitar and making jokes, and—

And who is Steve to judge how a person, like, processes or whatever? At least Eddie’s not doing any late night demolition.

They’re gonna be just fine.

The last of the sickly yellow bruising slips away from Eddie's eye as the month comes to a close, so Steve decides to risk it. Asks Eddie out. A movie night, a proper date where Steve can pay for the milkshakes and let their thighs brush against each other when the theater lights go down.

And sure, they'll have to pretend it’s just two straight guys hanging out — do their tapping thing and keep a healthy distance, two bros being pals being buds being dudes — and that shit sucks, but it’s better than nothing.

Steve's never had to worry about PDA before. One more thing he won't admit is kind of slowly killing him; rope burn around his heart when he thinks about it too hard.

"What do you say?" he asks Eddie. They’re lounging on his couch, propped on opposite ends with their legs tangled in the middle. "You want to let me take you out to the city?"

Brookhaven isn't exactly the city so much as the closest suburb whose mall didn't get torpedoed by the commies, but there's a theater and some decent diners, and it's far enough away that they shouldn't run into any classmates looking to cause trouble.

Eddie gives him a wary look. “I don’t know,” he hedges, fingers coming up to worry the thin sliver of a scar under his chin.

Steve swallows the hurt. The twine chafing behind his ribs. "It's okay," he starts to say, but Eddie's eyes flare with defiance.

“Actually, fuck it,” he declares, slapping his knees as he stands up. Gets up onto the couch cushion, spreads his feet wide and puts his hands on his hips; Steve’s little metalhead superhero. Steve can't help his grin when Eddie shakes his hair out big and says, "Take me out and woo me, baby!"

—

part 52

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[mikerickson]

Lifting my self-imposed embargo because I'm weird and don't like posting on social media when I'm on vacation.

I'm at a point in my life where I can financially justify at least one international vacation a year and figured I'd finally cross off the Great White North from the bucket list. I'd never been and Andrew hadn't been back in a very long time despite having dual citizenship. Anyways, just got back, and a bullet-point breakdown of the highlights is after the cut:

I wish every international flight was under two hours; EWR to YQB was almost comically fast.

Had my first French conversation with the very nice lady at the car rental counter for about ten minutes. She complemented my pronunciation and grammar, and wished me luck on the trip. Every French interaction after this point was a linguistic battle for my life that I lost (Toutes les Québecois parlent trop vite pour moi).

We had some time to kill before the hotel check-in so we went to a mall in the suburbs just so we'd have a food court with some options. Turns out shopping malls are not only alive and well but fucking thriving in Canada. I haven't seen a mall that packed with people outside of December since the nineties.

Quebec City was very dense with old architecture which made it feel very European. It was also apparently built on a fucking cliff with streets at 60 degree inclines, which also felt very European.

Took a tour of the Quebec Parliament building (beautiful structure), and apparently they used to be bicameral, but voted to abolish their Senate in the 60's and they were the last Canadian province to do so. What a concept.

It's one thing to know on paper that Canada has about 1/8th of the population of the US, but I was not prepared for just how empty the countryside felt. For someone like me, living in the northeast my whole life, the idea that cities in close proximity to each other not having continuous stretches of suburbs and other smaller cities connecting them was completely foreign.

On the highways I kept thinking I was speeding because I'd look down at the dashboard and see the number "100", but 100 km/h is only like 62 mph, which is nothing.

Similarly, I kept getting sticker shock every time I spent money, and kept having to remind myself that $1 CAD was like $0.73 USD while we were there.

It was really cool to see that the complex for the 1976 Montreal Olympics is still maintained and actively used (we stumbled upon a skateboarding competition and I did not feel cool enough to be in that crowd). Sometimes you hear horror stories about Olympic villages bankrupting cities and falling into disuse afterwards, but that's definitely not the case here.

Montreal is apparently known for their local bagel culture, but their bagels have enormous holes in the middle of them, so you have less cross-sectional area for spreads and they don't really work for sandwiches. My faith in NJ/NY bagel superiority remains intact.

Every city we went to had dedicated bike lane infrastructure and young families with kids, but Montreal definitely had the most of both. Tons of parks, too. Simultaneously felt like a larger and smaller city than I was expecting.

Poutine is okay, but I wasn't prepared for the cheese to squeak when you bite into it. Very odd sensation.

The main Parliament building for the federal government in Ottawa (Centre Block) is stunning, but closed; apparently it's been under renovation since 2019 and isn't expected to be reopened until 2032! In the meantime, we took a tour of where the lower House of Commons is currently meeting. We learned that their electoral districts are routinely re-drafted by a non-partisan committee and that they occasionally add new seats to the legislature to account for changes in population. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Also toured their Supreme Court building (way more Art Deco than I was expecting). We learned that there's currently a vacancy because a Justice recently retired because they're required to step down when they turn 75. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Every single city had automatic/self-serve parking garages where you didn't have to interact with a human (which I was very thankful for), but in Ottawa they have this little jingle that the machine sings at you when you take your ticket, which I found very amusing.

On the drive to Toronto we took a quick detour into the Thousand Islands (yes, like the salad dressing) and visited Boldt Castle, which is technically in New York state. After seeing it in practice, the idea of living on your own private island is more appealing than ever.

Toronto feels like an exercise in what happens when a nation's largest city is allowed to grow without being hemmed in by ridiculous geography. As someone who grew up in NYC, this is another concept foreign to me. The GPS did get very tripped up navigating a particularly gnarly interchange however.

Toured the Ontario Legislative Assembly (yet another beautiful building). At this point we were really good at asking tour guides stuff like, "so if happens, do you guys have a plan?" To which they would reply, "well, no, but let's just hope that never happens!"

I now understand why the Great Lakes are effectively freshwater inland seas; you really cannot see the other shore, and Lake Ontario isn't even the biggest one!

YYC to EWR was under an hour. That's definitely going to spoil me for future trips going forward.

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #1

The fantasy of running away is a nice one…until you realize you never really wanted to run away. You just wanted somewhere to escape to every now and then.

     I’ve been stuck in this…place for nearly two months. And no matter how hard I’ve searched for a way out, I can’t find one. It’s as if this place doesn’t want to let me go.

     I say “place”. Perhaps I should say world. Place is too small for what I’m living in. But if I admit it’s a world, then does that mean I’m forever lost? That there’s no hope of finding home or family or anyone ever again?

     Nearly everywhere is a place designed for humans. Neighborhoods of cookie-cutter houses, malls, grocery stores, restaurants, offices, schools, playgrounds, pools (lots and lots of pools). Any and every kind of building or place you could imagine. Everywhere you go, there’s intent behind it. Someone had to have built everything. But in two months of wandering, I have yet to meet anyone else.

     And that lack of people makes every doorway and every hall feel ominous. Like maybe even if there isn’t a person around the corner, something else is waiting and watching. Something I can’t begin to imagine.

     It’s to the point where I avoid going inside most buildings. The only ones I step into are grocery stores for food and the Pink Mall to sleep. You might think it strange, sleeping in a mall, but if you set foot in one of the empty houses, you’d understand. With no life and no furnishing whatsoever, you get the feeling that something else is inside. Something else will find you sleeping and –

     It’s creepy not just because everywhere is barren. Everywhere is familiar. I remember places like this from the late 90s and early 2000s when I was a kid. Rigid carpets, peachy-beige walls, warm lighting that throws lots of shadows, glossy sheens, wacky colors. Even this notebook I’m writing in is straight from childhood. It’s the same Lisa Frank journal my older sister had – two hugging penguins with bright purple and orange accents.

     It’s like I’ve been left behind in a strange bubble where the past never stopped existing. It’s just abandoned like a stage when a show is over and for some reason, I’m the only actor left.

     I can’t keep thinking about this right now.

     Another day in the world of nothing and nowhere.

     I know there’s no one to read any of this except me. But I can’t lose my mind. I need to at least imagine the hope that someone out there will see this. That someone out there can find me.

     I haven’t done much exploring lately, but I’ve been constructing a map of sorts. Naming places. I’ve even started a list.

            Pink Mall = explored

            Daisy Hill (suburb) = unexplored

            Sweet Tomato (grocery store) = explored

            White Collar Avenue (business district) = unexplored

            Waterworks (park) = unexplored

            Familiar School #1 = partially explored

     These are just a handful. And as you can see, mostly unexplored. I’ll admit I’m a terrible coward, but…even if there isn’t anyone around, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. I can’t ignore that feeling, however irrational or paranoid it seems.

     I realize I’ve said nothing about how I got here. “How” is a question I really can’t answer because I don’t know how.

     The last time I was in the real world, I was alone in my apartment. I remember it was almost 3 AM because I’d stayed up late again to finish homework. Around that time, I went to brush my teeth and when I looked out the bathroom window, I saw someone high tailing it from my car. I ran out to check, but nothing looked damaged or broken into. Shrugging the incident off, I went back to the main door of my apartment complex.

     When I opened it, nothing was the same.

     Ahead lay a dim hallway with beige walls and dirty carpeting. The only light came from a bulb at the end that kept flickering.

     Thinking the all-nighters were getting to me, I closed the door and opened it again. I blinked. I pinched myself. Nothing changed.

     When I turned around, the parking lot was gone. There was only open road and open fields. All darkness except for a few lamps.

     Now I was properly scared. Inches away from hyperventilating. But I didn’t want to lose reason. You’re tired and stressed, I told myself. You’re not in your right mind. The last thing you should do is freak out.

     With no other options present, I started walking down the road. Alone and vulnerable in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. The quiet out there was unnerving – not even a faint whistle of wind to cut through the darkness.

     About 20 minutes later, I finally saw a gathering of lights in the distance. A town. Surely there’d be someone to help. My feet dragged as exhaustion kicked in. I don’t remember closing my eyes for the last time. I only know I woke up later in a playground on a grey foggy morning (Pinwheel Playground = explored).

     From that day on I kept track of my time here by leaving tally marks at the Sweet Tomato every time I came for food. That and the watch I got for my birthday last year are the only things keeping me grounded.

     I was scared once I realized this all wasn’t an insomnia-induced hallucination. Still, I had a sliver of hope of finding a way out in that first month. Or at the very least, of finding anyone else. It was the only thing that kept me wandering the streets, knocking on doors, and peering through windows.

     But the longer I spent walking through the stillness…

     Hearing in the quiet a near-imperceptible hiss …

     Seeing things out of the corner of my eye…

     Seeing no end to this emptiness…

     The longer I’m here, the closer I tip-toe to the edge of my own sanity. This place which months ago was the kind of place my mind would have gladly run to in darker moments…

     This is why I’ve started writing. I know I could just talk to myself to deal with my reality. But this world makes you feel like anything you say will be lost. That eventually your existence will lose all context, just like these buildings made for people that have no people.

     I’ve already lost the real world. I don’t want to lose anything more.

[warningsine]

https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/shooting-blast-reported-concert-hall-near-moscow-agencies-2024-03-22/

MOSCOW, March 22 (Reuters) - At least 40 people were killed and over 100 hurt when gunmen in camouflage clothing opened fire with automatic weapons on people at a concert in the Crocus City Hall near Moscow on Friday, Russia's FSB security service said.

In one of the worst such attacks in Russia in years, at least five gunmen were shown in unverified videos firing repeatedly at screaming civilians cowering in the concert hall as Soviet-era rock group "Picnic" was about to perform.

The 6,200-seat concert hall in a suburb west of Moscow, which is near a shopping mall also called Crocus City, was sold out for the performance.

Other video footage showed the men shooting people below what looked like an entrance sign to Crocus City Hall. People lying motionless in pools of blood outside the hall were also visible.

"Suddenly there were bangs behind us - shots. A burst of firing - I do not know what," one witness, who asked not to be identified by name, told Reuters.

"A stampede began. Everyone ran to the escalator," the witness said. "Everyone was screaming; everyone was running."

Flames leapt into the sky, and plumes of black smoke rose above the venue as hundreds of blue lights from emergency vehicles flashed in the night, Reuters pictures and video showed.

Helicopters sought to douse the flames and evacuated around 100 people from the basement, Russian media reported. The roof of the venue was collapsing, state news agency RIA said.

Russian media reported a second blast at the venue, and there were reports that some of the gunmen had barricaded themselves in the building.

It was not immediately clear who the attackers were. No group had yet claimed responsibility. Russia's foreign ministry said it was a "bloody terrorist attack".

ATTACK WARNING

Two weeks ago, the U.S. embassy in Russia warned that "extremists" had imminent plans for an attack in Moscow.

The embassy issued its warning several hours after the FSB said it had foiled an attack on a Moscow synagogue by a cell of the militant Sunni Muslim group Islamic State.

President Vladimir Putin, who was on Sunday re-elected for a new six-year term, sent thousands of troops into Ukraine in 2022 and has repeatedly warned that various powers - including countries in the West - are seeking to sow chaos inside Russia.

Putin is receiving regular updates about the incident, the Kremlin said.

"Vladimir Putin was informed about the beginning of the shooting in the first minutes of what happened in Crocus City Hall," the Kremlin said.

"The president constantly receives information about what is happening and about the measures being taken through all relevant services. The head of state gave all the necessary instructions," Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov said.

SECURITY TIGHTENED

After the attack, Russia tightened security at airports, transportation stations and across the capital - a vast urban area of over 21 million people.

"A terrible tragedy occurred in the shopping centre Crocus City today," Moscow Mayor Sergei Sobyanin said. "I am sorry for the loved ones of the victims."

The White House said that images of the shooting were hard to watch while Germany's foreign ministry called the images "horrific."

"...Our thoughts obviously are going to be with the victims of this terrible, terrible shooting attack," White House spokesman John Kirby said.

Germany foreign ministry said on X, "The background must be clarified quickly. Our deepest condolences go out to the families of the victims."

"The entire world community is obliged to condemn this monstrous crime," Russian Foreign Ministry Spokeswoman Maria Zakharova said. "All efforts are being thrown at saving people."

Ukrainian presidential adviser Mykhailo Podolyak said that Kyiv "had absolutely nothing to do with these events" in a video message posted on Telegram while Kirby said there was "no indication at this time that Ukraine, or Ukrainians were involved in the shooting."

Zakharova questioned how the U.S. knew this and said Washington should immediately pass any information it had to Moscow, or stop making such statements.

"On what basis do officials in Washington draw any conclusions in the midst of a tragedy about someone's innocence?" Zakharova said.

[kyndaris]

Hey There, You’re an All Star

Contestant number three followed a week after number two. His name, or as how he shall be referred to in these blogs will be Shrek. Why? Because during our Hinge chats, he subtly slid in the lyrics of one of the most one hit wonders of all time. And because, afterwards, when I relayed my experience to my friends, I told them that he ‘Smash-Mouthed’ me. And no, dear readers, I know where your garbage brain has gone, but get it out of the gutter!

Our meet-up was a simple affair at a local shopping centre in a suburb of Sydney. More specifically, it was in the north-west corner of the greater Sydney region. No, not Richmond with all the flooding. A bit more north and a little less west.

Still confused? Excellent. I wasn’t going to specify exactly where it was in case there are Sydneysiders that read my blog and somehow manage to track me down.

To be fair, it was probably the most tamest of encounters: out in public and in broad daylight. Though I tried to recruit my friends to spy on us, they all decided to head elsewhere.

The cowards.

Instead, I had a work colleague serving as my eyes and ears during the meet-up. Celebrating his birthday, he was also in the area with his girlfriend to enjoy a subpar lunch at Crinitis.

And even though it’s been a few weeks since (of writing at least), I’m not sure if I’m thankful for his presence or if I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

The way he winked at me behind Shrek...

The stalker photo of us shopping...

You know what? I’ve changed my mind. Maybe murder truly is the answer.

For, at this rate, my stainless reputation at work will be ruined! How will I continue to be a Goddess among mortals when they have glimpsed behind the curtain and seen the truth of who I am?

It shall not stand!

But back to the date on hand.

Despite the fact that I had received a phone call from a friend’s mother asking if said friend was in my car (they weren’t) and that I was desperately trying to organise a way for their mother to get in touch so that they could pass off the car keys (firing off messages left, right and centre after parking), I arrived earlier than Shrek.

He, like many that frequent this shopping centre, was struggling to find parking. And instead of parking close by, he had parked all the way on the other side of the shopping complex. Initially, reading what he had messaged me, I had assumed he had found a spot in the mall opposite our immediate meeting venue. And so, I stationed myself near the pedestrian crossing, expecting him to appear.

While I did not encounter Shrek (as he had parked not where I had expected and had subsequently approached through the shopping centre and was therefore behind me), I did bump into my work colleague and wished him a ‘happy birthday’ before greeting his girlfriend.

After advising them of what the next hour or so would entail, I returned to my waiting spot, eyes on my phone for any indication from Shrek whether or not they had arrived. After getting an idea of what he was wearing and having a look around the plaza, I spotted him near the entrance and walked on over to greet him. Introductions made and with our stomachs growling, we headed to the closest restaurant: Korean fried chicken. Or, as I like to refer to it, my favourite type of KFC.

Over lunch, we talked about family, our interests and what we else we had planned over the weekend. You know, the riveting type of conversations you usually have when you meet a person in the flesh for the first time. And even though it’s not a job interview, you’re still desperately trying to impress. Just a little. So, maybe it was a little stilted as we were trying to find safe topics to navigate through.

No longer was it as easy to converse as it was through chat.

Although, to be honest, many of my friends do find me much more loquacious via written communication than verbal. But! On the plus side, my interactions in the work place and my desire to know everything about someone else’s life has made me a bit more adept at verbal wordplay! Huzzah!

In the end, I confirmed that Shrek had a sister (there was picture of him and her on his dating profile - one in which he hadn’t scrubbed out her face), that he was lactose intolerant (to a degree) and that much of his extended family were located overseas in the UK and the US of A.

Our chat was nice and it seemed like Shrek was the type of person to listen, if apologise for my life situation a bit too much. Certain parts of it can suck. But sometimes it’s also the attitude you bring to those circumstances - as some might say. I’m not all about the self-pity party, even if I do like to complain about the direction my life has gone on the rare occasion. Certainly, it’s not the perfect life that I wish it to be, but when has life ever gone so swimmingly for the normal person?

That aside, we also had an enjoyable chat after lunch as we did some shopping. We stopped at Good Games, where I picked up another board game. 

The meet-up was somewhat ruined by the fact that Shrek feared I was not familiar with where the shop was located and he tried to point me towards its. Despite the fact that I’d frequented this shopping centre for goodness knows how many times in the past several years.

It was kind of cute, even as I recalled the moment one of my previous work colleagues also tried to explain the suburb of Mays Hill because most others hadn’t heard of it. Mate, I used to live around that area throughout most of my childhood. I know where it is.

In fact, I know a lot of things. But let’s not go there.

The spectrum of INTJ, INFJ and ISFJ are showing.

Once we had surveyed all that there was on offer, even stopping by the Lego store, I walked Shrek back towards his car. Well, not his car exactly - but to the carpark before making my trek back through the shopping centre to where I had parked my car to while away the hours at a friend’s place before heading over for a conjoined house-warming and birthday celebration for a close friend.

Did the first meet-up go well? My work colleague seems to think so. After all, if things hadn’t, we probably wouldn’t have gone shopping together.

So, how well does Shrek stack up to the other people I’ve met through the dating app? And who should I present my rose to in this episode of Kyndaris: The Bachelorette?

From what I can see, a second date would be in order. Just to get a better feel of their social circle and of any other shared interests we might have. Certainly, he seems the type to be supportive and understanding, while also having his own things that he loves and cares dearly about - a trait that I find good because I think I’d also prefer my own time to do my own things.

But...well...it’s just so hard to make a call right now.

At this stage, I have to say that Pickles and Shrek are in the lead.

Will I have meet-ups with anyone else? Who knows. It’s just so hard to determine what makes a good fit and what might eventuate into something more.

Am I scared about commitment at this stage?

Hell yes! It’s only been the first time I’ve met them. Love isn’t like how it is in Disney movies (and while I enjoy them, I do not endorse falling in love with the first person you meet). For me, I think it comes with time and familiarity and getting to know a person and wanting the same things out of life.

It’s not about the lust or the love. 

It’s about who I can live a life together with.

[nightcall99]

Dreams from 1.11.23

Dream 1: My siblings and I were in my room and we had just gotten a new dog, and it was massive, like a German Shepherd. I was trying to get ready for work but the dog was making me late because it was really energetic and getting in my way. As I was leaving, it leapt up onto the top compartment of my wardrobe and stayed up there, barking really loud, to the point where it really frightened me. I told my brother, who seemed to be the only one who could control the dog, to get it down from there.

Dream 2: I was at our old house, getting ready for work so I could open the premises at 8:30am but I was going to be late. It was getting later and later, and I was trying to get ready as fast I could while trying to keep my panic at bay. I was missing steps in my usual routine. I looked in the mirror and my wet, un-styled hair and tried to put it in a bun as best as I could. There was no time to do my eye make-up. I wouldn't have time to put my contacts in either but I didn't want to wear my glasses because I didn't feel myself with them on so I tore off two contacts from the box and stuffed them in my pocket. I also popped my glasses in my pocket too, just in case I wouldn't have any time to my contacts in later, as least I'd be able to see. As I’m leaving the house, my mother is asking me if I’ll be home for dinner on a particular day in the near future, it feels like a date that is a few weeks away. I don't know if I answer her or not, maybe I don't know.

It was 8:31am now and TC was calling me wondering where I was, I told him I'm about to leave now and he didn't seem too bothered by it. Even though work is really close to my house and I usually would have walked, I decided to drive. It should have been a two minute drive but I kept getting lost and somehow I ended up all the way in the city. It was 8:45am or later now. I couldn't recognise any of the roads and never knew which turn I was supposed to make even though I had put the my workplace address into the the GPS. The directions on the app weren't making any sense. I got out and parked the car, and walked around the city and tried to my way to work on foot. I approached someone who was probably a train ticket inspector who was standing on the street and I asked him 'Do you know where Fairfield (the suburb my work is in) is?'. He didn't know, but offered to help me and asked me bring up the map on your phone so he could direct me. But the touch screen on my phone was being unreactive and wouldn't do what I wanted it to do. He took the phone from me and tried to open it up himself but he kept scrolling and couldn't even find the maps app. I felt bad for wasting his time so I walked away. TC texted me again to tell me that there were customers waiting outside the shop, waiting for us to open. Then I thought about it. Is this even real? Is this hardship right now, not imagined? I could just not care. I could just make this unreal by deciding that I don't care anymore. Why do I need to go to work? It doesn't matter. All of this is over now. Everybody's expectations, including my own, do not matter anymore. I could just let go.

Dream 3: It's the end of the day at work and I am trying to lock up at a shop that I used to work at but not anymore. It's been awhile and I don't know exactly what to do anymore because a lot of things have changed. The shop moved locations and is now inside a shopping centre. I was going to lock the doors to the shop, but activate the alarm system because I assumed that the alarm system for the entrance doors to the shopping mall would suffice. Doing both seemed like over-kill. As I was just about to leave, I saw a co-worker walk out of the shop, not looking very amused that I was about to accidentally lock her inside. But this meant the intruder alarm was going to detect her movement (even though I hadn't activated it), so I was going to have to race in and de-activate it before it made such a terrible loud noise. After doing so, I wondered if I might as well lock the mall entrance door (since I had the keys), but thought against it, because I might inadvertently lock people in just like I had almost done with this girl. Even though it appeared that all the shops were closed in the mall, there were still a few stragglers walking around and doing their shopping.

[hardfeelingsdotmp3]

american dream

They’re protesting at the abortion clinic again The sign is supposed to be a fetus but it just looks like Voldemort The school bus is the only way I get out these days I’d be lying if I ever said I’d felt okay

Another mass shooting on the TV He’s from my hometown, never met him never will This house feels like a prison, can’t go anywhere Stuck in this square footage instead of the town square

American dream, as sweet as ice cream Sorry you’re a sinner, one day you’ll be better Suburban sprawl, megachurches, and strip malls Highway garbage says Jesus Will Save You Do you feel saved yet?

Don’t answer the door, who knows the killer on the other side Gay pride is ruining children’s minds Don’t look so sad, honey, you’re just confused Cornfields and swingsets and marital regrets

I always hated the suburbs They made me feel small and too big at the same time Isolated and lonely in that single family zoning You see me at the store and just start running

The big city is full of crime, the homeless asking for a dime Next door she overdoses on prescription drugs But at least her grass was cut, brush it under the rug The husband’s at war, what’s he fighting for?

The American dream, as sweet as ice cream Sorry you’re a sinner, one day you’ll be better Suburban sprawl, megachurches, and strip malls Highway garbage says Jesus Will Save You Do you feel saved yet?

They could never save me, although they tried Bless their hearts they knew I’d go straight to hell At least it’s warm when I light myself on fire I won’t fight your war, I won’t buy what you’re selling Your American dream felt like prison to me

The American dream, as sweet as ice cream Sorry you’re a sinner, one day you’ll be better Suburban sprawl, megachurches, and strip malls Highway garbage says Jesus Will Save You Do you feel saved yet?

[mooncakesofpan]

Can I get a fic/headcannon friends to lovers with gareth and a chubby!reader that's super confident and they wear punk/grunge who's new to the school? :>

Gareth x Chubby!Gn!Reader

A/n: thank you so much for this request they help a lot with writers block and i really love Gareth so it's like a winwin.

Warnings: slight angst, bad talking about reader, violence, blood, They/Them pronouns

Word Count: 1.4K

Stranger things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

You had moved towns your family wanted a fresh start in the ‘cute’ little suburbs that would be considered Hawkins Indian. It was quiet and not much happened there aside from a false death of some kid and some freak accident at some mall in town but despite all that, your parents still moved to Hawkins. You had spent time and effort into your outfit your favorite boots with black skinny jeans adorned with patches and paint that hugged your thick thighs nicely. and your top hugged you nicely the arms had been cut off. Word around the school had been that there was a new kid. Dressed in dark denim you were a sight to behold confidence was obvious in the way you walked, you really didn't care how other people felt about how you looked you were comfortable with yourself. That's all that mattered. Eyes were on you as you tried to make your way to your locker leather jacket in your hands. A blonde boy in a green Letterman jacket was blocking your locker, leaning against it. You were determined to get to your first class on time. “Excuse me that's my locker,” you said trying to at least be nice and not start anything on the first day. the blonde looked you up and down a frown adorning his face, “look what we have here another freak, what have eddies cult already got to you” he says one of the other boys he was talking to also starting to laugh at his comment. you look at your watch then back up at the blonde with eyebrows raised “What's your Name?” “Jason C-” “Right Jason I really don't care about your name. But whatever little bullshit your talking about I don’t care I just wanna get to my locker,” you say with a hand on his chest pushing him back. “You don't kin who your messing with” Jason tries to say menacingly “You don't know who you're messing with now run along,” you say making a shoo motion as he leaves slightly embarrassed by some of the people snickering at him. You finally get your stuff and leave to find your first class going in and talking to the teacher about where you can sit in the classroom while you're sitting at the lab station in your science class. You see a brown head of curls sit down in front of you with a flannel cut-off adorned with pins out of the corner of your eye. You can feel his eyes on you. You look up and wave at him “hi I'm Y/n L/n,” you say with a smile. “Oh uh I'm Gareth Emerson,” he says back kinda nervous. “Gareth cool I like your shirt” he was wearing an Iron Maiden tee. “Oh thanks, I saw what happened in the hall,” he says pulling out his notebook “Oh with Jason! what's his deal anyway?” You say also pulling out your stuff for class “He's got this thing against like Eddie and our group thinks we're in some type of cult cause we play like DND and listen to metal, you know the typical stuff,” you nod with understanding as the teacher started. Halfway through the class, you see a paper slipped next to you. ‘wanna sit with me and my friends during lunch’ You read the paper and think about it, really his offer sounds better than sitting alone in the library or some other spot alone in the school. When lunch comes around Gareth finds you at your locker and waits for you to finish switching books out. “so what got you to Hawkin's, “ he says gripping the strap of his backpack” “My parents wanted a change so they packed up everything and went they were moving to Indiana,” he nods in understanding. “Anyway, I'm not mad it seems like not everything here is bad,” you say smiling at him Gareth's face felt warm as he looked away quickly hoping you didn't notice. As you guys entered the cafeteria, Gareth went threw the lunch line with you and grabbed a Dr.Pepper, and walked you to the table with his friends. “Hellfire This is Y/n,” Give a wave and find a spot to sit at the table the spot next to Gareth had already taken, the longer-haired brunette at the top of the table looked at you narrowing his eyes a bit. “Your the one who told Carver off this morning,” Eddie says a smile stretching across his face he reaches his hand enthusiastically across the table to shake yours, “Eddie Munson” “oh so you're the cultist,” you say “yes welcome to the cult,” Eddie says jokingly You eventually get to learn everyone's names maybe your junior year wouldn't be too bad. A few months later close to winter break you were walking to your locker to meet Gareth before lunch this was typically the routine it was a small moment between the two of you. As you get closer to the locker you hear shouting and you push closer threw the crowd to see Gareth and one of Jason's lackies Andy trying to take swings at each other. You weren't expecting Gareth to knee Andy and for him to get on top of him and start getting hits on Andy. It gets to the point where Andy is starting to bruise up pretty bad sporting a black eye. It takes you a minute to snap out of the initial shock, Gareth was hot-headed that was a surprise to no one but he typically could get it under control but you’re unsure what happened as you rush over to try and pull Gareth off the basketball player “Gareth! What the Fuck!” you say grabbing Gareth as Andy’s friends help him up you could tell Gareth's face was wet with tears. “Don't fucking talk about them again!” Gareth yells struggling in your grasp. You pulled the curly-haired boy into a hallway with barely any people in it Gareth wasn't too bruised up with a slight bruise on his cheek and a busted lip you sat him down in the hallway away from everyone “hey what was that back there” Gareth wasn't making eye contact with you avoiding it looking down at his ringed hands. you grab his face gently turning his face to see if it was any worse than what you had seen pulling him away. It thankfully wasn't but it forced him to look at you. he let out a sigh “he was talking shit about you okay?” “Gareth you know I don't give a shit what other people have to say about me, right? I don't let it bother me” “I wasn't gonna just let him talk about you like that okay” Gareth said frustrated “What did he say,” you say softly “He said stuff about you being how easy you were and how you were a quick fuck and-” “Gareth you don't have to defend me from that douche I can fight my own battles-” you say interrupting him ”I'm in love with you okay?! I'm not just gonna let them say all that shit and let them treat you any worse than they already do, I care too much and I don't even know if you feel the-” he raises his voice running a hand threw his hair tears still running down his face. “You're in love with me?” you say shocked. He pauses for a second. “I mean yeah,” he says looking down at his fidgeting hands slightly embarrassed by his outburst. You had liked Gareth for a long time the crush you had developed and the close friendship you guys had created in the past 2 months had made you fall in love with him. “Gareth can you look at me” he hesitates but does and you put your hand on his cheek and kiss his lips. Gareth's eyes fluttering closed and too soon for him, you pull away to look at him. “To think I was waiting for the right time to say something” you chuckle “thank you,” you breathe face still close to his. Gareth starts to laugh at your comment “Jesus, this is embarrassing,” “what about it is embarrassing,” you say joining in in his laughter “The fact that you probably got my blood in your mouth,” he said “Yeah I'm trying not to think too much about it” you get up reaching a hand out for him to take. “let go fix you up”

[infaethable]

ranking the bad kids from least to most believably from the midwest, by me, someone who was raised an hour away from the town elmville was based on. 

6. adaine abernant. not even from the fantasy midwest, really. there’s nothing here that i could even begin to run with. (aelwyn being from the midwest however? i could spin that.)

5. fabian aramais seacaster. could maybe be from the midwest in like, the way that chicagoans who moved to california for college and never left are from the midwest. the only real thing here is him being really into football bloodrush, and that’s explained away by lou having previously lived in boston. oh, and based on completely vibes alone, fabian would say that midwest winters made him invulnerable to cold, and would wear a bomber jacket in -5. he’s lying, but that’s a very midwest trait. 

4. gorgug thistlespring. gorgug gives me more east coast suburbs vibes. it’s laughable that brennan thinks that he can walk to school with zelda. midwestern towns aren’t that walkable. my local highschool was a six minute drive and an hour and a half walk because you would have to walk through the cornfields in order to not get hit on the one road that you could access the school from, where the speed limit was 50 miles an hour. nevertheless, he has that nice wholesome gentleman vibe. i feel like he’d take zelda to prom in his parent’s minivan.

3. riz gukgak. riz gukgak was born in chicago and tells everyone he’s from chicago. every single person from actual chicago will yell at him on instagram for it. riz gukgak is good at being from the midwest. he would have fun going to the rainforest cafe at the nice mall 45 minutes away. he would suggest going to target at 9:30pm on a saturday and getting kraft mac & cheese and that would be the highlight of the weekend. would probably end up at a midwestern city college, because he ‘likes the atmosphere’. siu does have a great journalism program, so represent i guess.

2. kristen applebees. everybody is wondering why she isn’t first. be patient. kristen applebees is absolutely from a fourth largest town in a very low population state, and every person she meets when she inevitably goes to college in like, colorado or something, will think that means she lives in brokeback mountain country. she will not correct them, but anyone who actually lives in the town will correctly call her a “city girl”, because she lives in town. kristen applebees has terrible taste in pizza, and in the eighth grade she went to a highschool bloodrush game and painted her face in school colors. in the group of theatre kids at ihop at 2 in the morning, she is the server they know from school and won’t stop annoying. 

1. fig faeth. every single thing about fig faeth is the most midwestern thing i have ever heard. she is every single male-manipulator, midwest emo/punk, “i hate this fucking town” song rolled into one. fig loves the mountain goats. fig took a school trip in the eighth grade to six flags. fig gets stick and poke knuckle tattoos of upside down crosses on both her middle fingers, and they get infected. fig crams seven people into a five person car the second she gets her learners permit, and gets pulled over by state highway patrol for going 90 in a 45. fig steals street signs and puts them in her room. fig laments about how there’s nothing to do in this town, and then loiters behind the 7-11 till the gas station attendant kicks her out. she’ll have a ladybird scene as soon as she’s in a city for college, and she’ll miss elmville so desperately that she’ll transfer to the local community and be listless for awhile. she will find her way, but it will always be home. she loves this fucking town.

[morlock-holmes]

Re: Bowling Alone et al,

I am a layperson, not an expert. I also haven't read the book yet. This is all off the top of my head.

But wasn't the late 60s/all of the 70s the heyday of:

Drive-in movie theaters

Hippies

The "American dream" version of moving to your own house in what we would now call the suburbs

The early transformation/universalization of public schools

Possibly shopping malls as you and I know them

The coming-of-age of the generation born after WW2 and raised by survivors of WW2

I suspect that there was a general large-scale breakdown of cultural transmission along with the decline in social groups; that those two have a chicken-and-egg type casual relationship; and that television was/is only one contributing factor. I think that someone who does have relevant education, would either be able to vouch for this, or would find it an interesting research topic.

I think the "breakdown of cultural transmission" aspect is at least as interesting as the "decline in formal social groups" aspect in terms of Why America Is Like That, even though the social groups aspect is more directly relevant to the "social atomization" discussion.

I will probably have to do, like, a re-read live blog of bowling alone to refresh my memory. The correlation with TV just stuck with me because it's striking and peculiar.

[broadstbroskis]

our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair.  “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.” 

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays. 

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway? 

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too. 

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad. 

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight. 

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines. 

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl. 

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave? 

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable. 

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so. 

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams. 

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more. 

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up. 

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for. 

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them. 

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon. 

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around. 

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?” 

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.” 

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done. 

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll. 

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.” 

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her.  It’d felt too perfect to pass up. 

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them. 

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting. 

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have. 

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground. 

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face. 

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. 

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever. 

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns. 

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time. 

[regrettablewritings]

Fluff alphabet for Tadashi Hamada if you're stil writing for him, please. B, c,s w?

Indeed, I do still write for the lovely lad. Stuff is below the cut

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?):

Oh, most definitely. Tadashi is a very family-oriented man. Always has been, always will be. So it’s no surprise that he looks forward to the day he can start his own little branch of the Hamada family tree. We’ve already seen how he is with Hiro: He’s protective, he’s encouraging, he’s inspiring, he’s good at getting him to do things he may not want to do even if it’s for his own benefit -- imagine what wonders he could do if those traits were applied to a little mini-him or mini-you or mini-you-both!

Honestly, the subject goes more or less unspoken between you two because it’s kind of a given that Tadashi wants kids. You two would be taking a walk in the park or going to the mall and the moment a stroller passes by, he’s barely playing off how much he’s trying to crane his neck to gaze upon the chubby wonder resting inside. You can see the disappointment in his eyes when he fails. Some days when you’re just at the Lucky Cat trying to get some homework done, you’ll glance up and see him at a table with a baby at it, speaking all kinds of sweet words to them. You’ve seen his favorites playlist on Youtube -- it has a decade-old commercial for Legal Zoom on it. When you questioned why it was there in the first place, you had to witness your adoring boyfriend sheepishly admit that the baby in it was just too cute. And also he liked the pale purple walls and thought it’d make for good inspiration.

“Good inspiration for . . .?” you led, knowing exactly where it was headed. You watched at Tadashi’s eyes wandered and his cheeks and ears reddened.

“For . . . a nursery . . .” he responded. It was a mumble, but you heard everything you needed to know loud and clear.

Well, not everything, of course: You asked him what exactly he envisioned for the future.

He admitted he wasn’t exactly particular about whether he wanted a boy or a girl, let alone first or second -- he just knew he would like at least two children so neither one would be lonely. Corny and cheesy as it was, he would’ve preferred to live somewhere a little closer to the suburbs (“Hey, at least I don’t expect a white picket fence!” he justified). His reasoning being that he’d like a nice, quiet area in which many parks and libraries and schools can be accessible, and so any children of yours have room to grow. However, given the structure of the area, he knew that this was going to be a tough call for a multitude of reasons.

Bottom line, though, he’d be okay with living in the city if it meant he could still provide for you and your hypothetical kids the best he could. He just wants to make sure everyone is happy and healthy. But for now, he’s content with it just being the two of you . . . Emphasis on “for now.”

C = Cuddles (How do they cuddle?):

Usually with a prayer that Hiro doesn’t barge in. No, seriously: That bedroom of theirs offers only the most courteous of privacies by way of a tasteful but otherwise unpersuasive shoji. You want Hiro to see you guys trying to get cozy about as much as Hiro does -- which is not at all, given how he pretends to throw up every time he’s walked in on you two. And how he’s voiced his dislike of it.

Given that Tadashi is ever the caring brother and roommate, he can only get away with so many dry, “You don’t have to be here”s before he just feels bad about it. As a result, the two of you have actually had to create a cuddling schedule built with Hiro’s course times, your availability, and Tadashi’s availability in mind. And God forbid Hiro ever finds out about that schedule because all he needs is one more reason to call the both of you Ultra Nerds.

Worse-case scenario, you two get booted out and have to make do with the couch in the garage, cramped as it is. But you don’t mind: Usually, the reason you two are cuddling is because you’re so butt-tired from coursework that you need to relax and zonk out for a couple hours. Besides, for as lanky and more muscle-based as a guy like Tadashi is, his arm wrapped around you is unfairly warm and comforting. You’re bound to be conked out before you can even utter a complaint, or at the very least you’re way too relaxed to register the fact that you’re both awkwardly strewn about the furniture.

So if it had to be put in a different way (and less about worrying somebody might barge in), you supposed you could describe your cuddling as being the snug equivalent to how a college student eats, sleeps, or lives altogether: You both take what you can get when you can get it and try to enjoy it before it’s time to go to your next “adult obligation.”

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?):

Tadashi is a pretty optimistic person so it’s actually hard to get him completely down, let alone long enough for him to actually require a pick-me-up bigger than a brief inner pep talk. Normally all he needs to do is have a quiet moment to himself, some time to cool down, maybe remind himself that things can and will get better. But in the odd moment where this isn’t enough, Tadashi will often turn to his interests.

However, don’t assume this means he’ll hunker down in his lab and focus on one of his projects: He’s long since learned that it’s best to not robotically engineer with sad or frustrated -- way too many power outages have occurred from that.

Instead, he turns to his other hobbies: Living with Aunt Cass means he’s been knowing how to bake for years, albeit the baked fruits of his labors don’t always come out prettily; depending on how free his schedule is (read: not very at all anymore), he may go find a location to go surfing; or he goes to a park to get, like, a cart crepe. Usually being outside in a sunny place (with plenty of puppies and babies around) zaps him back to normal.

Which leaves him with plenty of time to figure out how to cheer you up!

Given his nature, Tadashi has become a wiz at cheering others up. He’s just got this nearly contagious brightness about him. And even if you don’t find yourself as readily bright as he, don’t worry: He’s not afraid to pull old tried-and-trues on you. Being an older brother/almost fatherly figure has allowed him the perfect position to perfect his trade: That is, the art of being goofy for the sake of cheering up his loved ones. He will easily pick you up and jump around with you, hollering about how he’s going to “turn that frown upside-down” -- by actually holding you upside-down.

Not your cup of tea? Then be prepared to witness the most tragic case of Dad Dancing ever recorded in a man below the age of 30, complete with cheesy disco music. You will be forced to witness his arms flailing, head bopping, mouth performing what you had once heard being referred to as “The White Man’s Overbite”. You will beg that he stop “for the love of Mochi.” You will try to have your pleas be heard over the speaker blaring “Got to Be Real” by Cheryl Lynn, only to be further drowned out by your boyfriend’s tone-deaf singing.

But the man will not stop: He must dance in your honor.

And once you’re done wiping away the tears left from cackling, he’ll treat you to some froyo.

If this still doesn’t work, there’s the slightest chance he might pull out the big guns: Tickling. It’s reserved strictly as a worst-case scenario, but he’s going to dance until his feet bleed if he can help it before he has to do that again. The last time he resorted to tickling a little too eagerly, it . . . didn’t end well.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?):

When? A balmy evening in May. How? With a bit of difficulty. Mind you, Tadashi is a generally organized man on the average day. But on the day he proposes to you – heck, the days leading up to it? He’s a bit of a mess. And it’s in no small part due to how incredibly involved his friends and family had tried to be the entire time.

Make no mistake, he’s very glad that he has such supportive loved ones. However, he found himself constantly fighting off a heart attack every time one of them treaded the line a little too closely for his comfort. (Sure, there’s little suspicion in Honey gushing over wedding magazines with you or Aunt Cass asking you to sample a “brand new wedding cake flavor” she was planning to use for some pastries, but Wasabi asking about your ring size and Fred talking about how kaiju costumes were better than tuxes until GoGo had to slam him down really wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.)

Hiro might’ve been the closest thing to normal throughout it all, much to the elder Hamada brother’s surprise. But even then, he was more of less gesturing for Tadashi to just go ahead and pop the question – albeit, at the most inopportune times in the latter’s honest opinion.

“I can’t propose to my girlfriend in the campus library!” Tadashi rejected Monday.

“There’s nothing romantic about being in the middle of a pizzeria and going, ‘Hey, will you marry me?’” he scoffed on Wednesday.

“Hiro, if you ever propose to somebody in front of a mall fountain, then I’ve failed you,” came his dry response Saturday. He knew his younger brother meant no harm by applying the lightest of pressures; he just wanted all the anxieties over with! But this was you Tadashi was proposing to: You deserved only the best. Only the most heartfelt . . . Which was why, in the end, the where of it all was the Lucky Cat Café. Was it the fanciest establishment he could have done it in? Not really. Thankfully, Aunt Cass was all too eager to oblige his request to have the café to yourselves one evening; it allowed him to properly decorate your favorite table with a tablecloth and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. It was admittedly a tad cheesy, but you certainly didn’t mind it.

But this was where Tadashi had grown up. It was where his family – the core of his being – was, where his friends congregated to relax. This was his home in so many ways and if he was to invite you into his family, he wanted it to be done here. Even if it meant Aunt Cass and Hiro were not too discreetly peeking out from the back. Or that the entire time Tadashi was trying to recite his proposal speech, he kept getting distracted by your friends, whose faces were mashed against a window behind you, waiting to bear witness to this milestone.

Suffice to say, it was a very group-oriented situation. But neither you nor Tadashi would have had anything less.

Thank you for your patience!

[clatterbane]

Finally took my first roll out this evening to the nearest grocery store, along with Mr. C. It's actually pretty convenient to get to, but I think he suggested a walk over there to make sure my, erm, directionally challenged ass could at least find food! 😅

I had to do a little bit of a tour, to at least glance at what they had. (Plus grab a couple of items we needed while we were there, like some hand soap for the kitchen.) It does look to have a pretty good variety of stuff!

From their website, which does have a translate button at the very top:

Bazaar Food Market is a store with a focus on food and flavors from Sweden and all corners of the world. You will find us in Malmö, the city with 184 different nationalities among the inhabitants. And where would a store like ours be located if not in the pulsating heart of the multicultural society, Rosengård Centrum...

Bazaar Food Market is your personal grocery store, no matter where you come from and what your favorite products are. If you are missing something in our range, let us know and we will do everything we can to include it in the range.

Yeah, as I commented before, when we were looking at semi-affordable real estate? New Apartment is actually smack in the middle of one of the far right weirdos' supposed "No Go Zones": a particularly immigrant-heavy suburb, in a metro area with lots of immigrants overall. And that store's selection really does reflect it!

[ETA: Commentary from when we were still apartment hunting. 🙄]

I had to cut my perusal short because looking at the variety of awesome looking and smelling wares at suppertime really started bothering my currently fucked-up stomach. But, with any luck at all? Soon, my pretties! 😁

Just the extremely international tea and coffee selections looked dangerously interesting for the moment, and I'm sure there's plenty more that I can handle now whenever I go back less hungry to begin with.

(Same with browsing some of the nearby restaurants/takeout places online, not too surprisingly. Also reflecting the amount of diversity locally, and my own immigrant ass is really looking forward to trying some of the options!)

Before heading into the grocery store, I had to do a little tour of the mall-ish shopping center it's located in. Plenty more intriguing smaller shops (and food opportunities!) in there, obviously catering to a rather international clientele. I look forward to poking around when I have the time, and more are open.

But, another thing I spotted, and will have to try out of curiosity:

Yep, it's some type of soft serve vending machine? With sprinkles, and hugging penguins. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Household Swede had never seen one of those before, either, so it's apparently not just one of those "normal for Sweden" things. (Though there is one hell of a lot of ice cream/dairy products in general! 😎🍦)

Going to have to try that out of curiosity before too long. No idea about the quality of vending machine frozen delights, but at least it has cups by default and not gluteny cones. Likely mainly because paper cups don't go stale without ample protection, but hey.

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Hello and welcome to a mulit-chapter story! basic info: Tubbo-centric, talk of contracted murder that never goes to fruition, kinda deus ex machina-y

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist for Assassinate But Nah, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

Taglist: @sleepysnails

Ao3 link

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

“Tubbo! My boy! You’re my favorite agent.”

Toby Maron pulls out a chair at a private poker table at Quacksino. “I really shouldn’t be honestly,” he says to the leader of the Jays, one of the Mafia groups in Houver.

“Of course you’re my favourite!” Schlatt says. He gestures to Quackity, who’s acting as dealer tonight, to deal this looks-younger-than-sixteen year old into the next round. “You’re a cop’s son? Those guys never get caught.”

Quackity slides Tubbo a packet of M&Ms before dealing in Tubbo, Schlatt, and his two main lackeys Slimecicle, and Ted.

Tubbo grimaces. “Right.” He opens the packet of M&Ms and separates them into the six colours, acting as the six chip types. “Why am I here?”

Slimecicle looks at his cards and slides Tubbo a folder. “Right here.”

“Thanks.” Tubbo looks at his own cards. “Ten.” He puts his cards down on the table and flicks a candy to the pot. He opens the file, he sighs heavily. “Another assassin job?”

“Oh yeah.” Schlatt grins like the two of them are in on a little secret. “That’s why I like you.” He throws in a chip. “Call.”

Tubbo skims the reference sheet in front of him. “Thomas Rough?”

“Call,” Slimecicle says.

Schlatt’s grin stays on his face. He takes a swig of beer. “What do you know about him?”

“Thomas Rough? He’s the son of Dan Rough.” Tubbo continues to skim the papers in front of him; blond hair, blue eyes, 6’3”. “Dr. Rough was a kid from the Teenage Mall District, bad place for a kid to grow up.” Tubbo thinks back to his memory of headlines and research projects. Dan made some big advancement in microbiology, I don’t know what though. He now has his own lab and a nice house in the suburbs. The Houver Mailer called him a ‘Diamond in the Rough’ in their series on him.”

“Good.”

“Call,” Ted says.

Quackity puts down the flop.

“Two hundred.” Tubbo throws in the equivalent amount of candy.

“Playing it safe are you?”

“Mhm. Shoulda said that with my ten.”

“Call.”

Tubbo continues to rattle off information. “Thomas Rough spends the first semester abroad at Oak Park Academy, a Swiss boarding school.” He glances up from the papers to Schlatt. “Nice. He comes home for Christmas break, then spends the second semester in a local public school: Granite Bay.”

“Something about balancing rich kid privileged education and being a normal kid.”

“Call.”

“I can understand that.” Tubbo eats a couple M&Ms.

“Hey! Don’t eat your chips,” Ted jokes. “Call.”

“Chips? These are chocolate.” Tubbo seems to remember that he’s talking to the top guys in the Jays and shuts up.

Quackity burns the top card and places the Turn.

Tubbo’s eyes flick up. “Add another hundred.” He flips the page. “Who’s this?”

Schlatt puts his elbows on the table and leans in. “Ranboo Alastair. Nothing special about him, but he’s Rough’s best friend during the half year he’s in the city.”

“Does he need to go as well?”

“No. You just need to befriend him while Rough it’s around.” Schlatt looks towards his men. “Call.”

“But will you dispose of him once I kill--”

“Assassinate.”

“Kill Thomas Rough? He’ll be able to point me out in a line up.”

“Ideally, he won’t know that you disposed of his best friend”

“Fold.” Slimecicle slides his cards to the burn pile.

Schlatt continues. “You know Eret?”

“Yeah. Informant on the drag scene.”

“Ranboo’s her little brother. Your mark is Thomas Rough, but befriending Ranboo will be a warning to Eret as well.”

“Killing two birds with one stone.”

“More like killing one, injuring another.”

“Fun.”

“Isn’t it! And you’re a police kid, nothing will happen to you.”

“But won’t Dr. Rough want answers to what happened to his son?”

“We’ll deal with that. You deal with Thomas Rough.”

“Call.”

The next card gets burned and the River gets flipped.

“Five hundred.” Tubbo puts the fold to the side and tried to read Schlatt, not that he wasn’t already doing that. “So I’m supposed to befriend Ranboo, hope that Thomas Rough keeps he around as a friend, then kill him?”

“Yes. Call.”

“Fold.”

Schlatt turns to Quackity. “Burn these. Flip a new five cards please.” He then gestures to Tubbo’s pile of M&Ms.

“One thousand.”

Schlatt looks at his cards once more. ��Call.” He sits back in his seat. “We’ll be putting you in Public School, Granite Bay, as you mentioned. You’re junior year I think.”

“It would be,” Tubbo says wistfully.

“If you take it--”

Tubbo cuts him off, “If? I have a choice?”

“If you take it,” he looks Tubbo in the eye. “This’ll be your last job. I’ll be asking your father to overlook first degree homicide. Even his debts have limits.”

Tubbo thumbs at his cards.

Schlatt flips his. He gives Tubbo his first proper smile of the night. “Flush.”

“Blue-Eyes White Dragon,” Tubbo says. He takes great pleasure in how Schlatt is visibly thrown. “I’ll take the job, but my cover isn’t in this folder.”

Ted hands Tubbo another thin packet of paper.

“Tubbo Jacobs?”

“That’s your name for the next year. You’ll be living with Karl Jacob’s, chief editor of the Houver Mailer.”

“He works for you?”

“Yes. He’s getting redeployed on another mission next year, so once you get the job done, Tubbo Jacobs will disappear with him.” Schlatt grabs a few M&Ms from his winning pot. “And Toby Maron will be allowed to go back into public school.”

“But not Granite Bay.”

Schlatt nods and drops the candy in his mouth. “But not Granite Bay.”

Quackity taps Schlatt’s forearm.

“What is it Flatty Patty?”

“The kid wins,” he murmurs. “Hands off the pot.”

“What was that?”

“The kid wins.”

Schlatt scoffs. “The nerve of some people. Fine. Take your candy and chips. Get out of here kid.”

Tubbo puts all his papers back in the manila folder and slips it into his bag. “Yes Schlatt.”

“You have until the end of next summer to get it done.”

“Yes Schlatt.”

“Good boy. Remember. Do the job, and it’ll be your last one. Chicken out, and you’ve still got a few years ahead of you.”

“Yes Schlatt.” Tubbo picks up his chips but leaves the candy on the table. He pushes the chair back in behind him and goes to the counter to cash out his two thousand, three hundred, and thirty bucks.

 “Bye Sapnap.” Tubbo may be an unwilling assassin due to debt, and he may hate it, but he’s still polite. Tubbo walks into his house, eyes downcast. His dad, Captain Maron, is reading in the newspaper. “I’m back.”

He tosses down the paper and comes to hug his son. “How was your meeting at the Quacksino?”

“Good. Schlatt’s sending me to public school.”

“What?” Captain Maron holds his son by the shoulders. “Public school?”

“Yeah. Catch s I have another assassin job.”

Captain Maron’s face falls. “At public school?”

“Thomas Rough, he goes to Griante Bay second semester.”

“Oh.” Jordan’s expression flickers.

Tubbo doesn't have the energy to even try to decipher it.” On the bright side,” he tries, “Schlatt says that this is the last job I need to do for him. Something about debt limits and that you can’t prosecute me.”

His dad gives him a tense smile. “Did he really say that? Or are you paraphrasing for your old man?”

“That’s what he said, he was very clear about it.” Tubbo pulls away and heads to the kitchen. “But you can’t prosecute me. I don’t know what I’m going to do after though. I feel like Schlatt has been setting me up to go crawling back to him for a sense of purpose.”

Jordan looks at his son sadly. As one of the top cops, he’s seen a lot, and he’s seen that very story play out so many times before. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Don’t apologize. It’s grandpa’s fault for getting tied with one of the Mafia families. It’s not your fault. He’s the one who died with debt to the Jays.”

Jordan comes to hug his son again. “Get some rest. You’ll have time to brush up before the school year starts.”

“Yeah.” Tubbo grabs himself a bowl of cereal, directly opposing what his dad just suggested. “I’m a new transfer. Tubbo Jacobs. Starting tomorrow I’m going to be living with Karl Jacobs, but only until the job is over,” he reassures his father. “And Lani will still be at home. Think of it as an exchange; like I’m going to school in europe or something.”

“I just. I don’t like the idea of you living with Karl Jacobs,” Jordan admits.

“It could be worse. At least he’s got a proper office job. It’s a good cover.” Tubbo shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “Relax dad. I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine. I will keep being fine.” His gaze softens. “Besides dad, this case file tells me to befriend some kid. So I’ll get that experience.”

Jordan smiles at his boy and ruffles his hair. “Goodnight son.”

“Night dad.”

- - -

Jordan walks up the stairs and goes to the safe in his closet. He spins the lock and opens the door. He digs up an old photo album and pulls it to his lap. He flips through old polaroids of him and his two childhood friends.

He pulls the last photo out of its clear sleeve. Then flips it to the back and reads the mailing address scrawled on it.

He mutters it under his breath and puts everything back in its place.

Jordan goes to find a pen, a piece of paper, and an envelope. He writes out the address and starts to pen two letters.

Dear Philip Wright, I’ve been in some trouble with the Jays for the past six years. Sorry for not mentioning it earlier. You know me, I’m stubborn. I’m a cop. I thought I had it under control. I don’t. Most of the debt has been worked off, but if you could advise me on how to proceed. That would be great,” Yours, Jordan Maron

Dear Daniel Rough, Just got a tip that Tom is in danger. Yours, Jordan Maron p.s. sorry for never returning your requests to catch up