#i just wanted em to be chilling for the most part and not really talk much after the initial banter

[raviosrupees]

My parent rates LU Link's based on first impressions

[warning foul language, mention of alcohol, and my parents very negative impression of Wars !!! note this is my parents impression based off of the LU concept sketches + descriptions. a lot of em aren't accurate]

TIME

Very God of War, Kratos. PTSD Link.

when all the others are hanging out he's in the cups. He fought the moon? Sounds about right. Everyone else is talking and goofing off and he's got the thousand yard stare.

No one talks about how he cant get a full nights sleep. Please let him nap. Maybe let the owl take a nap too.

*stares at him for a very long time, before taking a sip of mimosa*

TWILIGHT

blond hiccup [httyd] very viking. Humble? Hiccup. Animal whisperer? Does he have a dragon? he turns in to a wolf? good for hiccup. getting over a complicated relationship? ...... h-

OH HE HAS GOATS? I love goats! Love this guy.

WARRIORS

Ah, douchy paladin! Yeah he's got the hip flex, he knows he's the shit. Very prideful? Of course you are. Leader type? Women problems? Not surprised. [said they most wanted to punch this one]

"This one writes himself. On Reddit forums"

FOUR [their 3rd fav]

"eeny meeny hippy genie" They've got the weird flowy scarf hat, they're super tiny! Dwarf.. chaos gremlin-- No that's a changeling! I don't think that's actually a Link, I think they faked their way in. Not that I blame them, its a pretty cool crew to be a part of. Spy for the fae realm.

WILD

5th grade school photo link. He's really excited for his first day of school and has a planner for all of his classes.

Good at navigation? Kudos for being a good boy scout.

Her 2nd favorite.

WILD

"Legolas Link" he likes to run on snow, flip his hair back + forth and shit talk dwarves [changeling doesn't like that]

"takes any questioning of his princess too personally? Why are they questioning his princess in the first place? *squints* Why is he so upset? Feel like maybe we need some codependency therapy-

IDENTITY CRISIS DUE TO MEMORY LOSS???? oh no, there we go, the therapy- INSECURE? THE ONLY ONE THAT FAILED? Dude, I think douchy paladin needs to take him to therapy-, maybe it'll convince him to get some too.

Proceeds to go into a rant about his sheikah tech being called weird magic: "Why are they calling his magic weird? That's rude ! They need to have more open minds, no wonder he's insecure! He just needs to feel confident and supported in his new environment and they're not being very supportive right now!"

*orders another mimosa*

LEGEND [their favorite]

"We've got stoner wizard link..." "Which one?" "He's wearing red, and like a fancy staff with a ball at the end for walloping on people who say he's not a real wizard" He just smacks em and says duh yes I am, but usually he doesn't bother with it bc he's too chill.

He's the Millenial of the linked universe. "Chooses not to be a leader type? 'Nope, Im good, just here for a paycheck not a promotion. Some PTO would be nice. Another adventure? He'd rather start a commune"

"Seems unaffected by his adventures?" Uhh he is though. He's just delusional about it now.

HYRULE

Classic link [true] silent generation, nobody acknowledges him. "just happy to be included," mistaken as a hobbit.

"He's actually a traveler, never stays in one place" "Ah so post adventure Bilbo baggins, who wants to see mountains again."

*starts singing "the road goes ever on and on"*

SKY

Foppy link. Fabulous haircut, cape swooped over one shoulder with the gorgeous coloring, contrasting belt-- he knows color schemes way too well, he could be in project runway.

"Not the leader type? Sure he's too busy worrying about fabric swatches. Views the master sword as a blessing? Yeah, I bet he does."

Very confidently decided his Zelda is a beard.

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 5 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 10.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes), depictions of a panic attack, animal death Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You start to unravel some of the secrets hidden in Beacon Hill's other world, and Stiles manages to worm his way into discovering some of your own. 

A/N: this took a minute, so i hope the length makes up for it! comments and reblogs are love, and i am tinkerbell. also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Tag list: @eaterof-concrete

Your anger fizzled with every mile you drove. By the time you finished your third loop around the Preserve, it was just a light simmer of irritation. The void was quickly filled with a different emotion: curiosity. There was a little dread in there too, perhaps also a touch of nausea, but the concoction was still potent enough to distract you from your...whatever that was with Lydia. Now that you were alone, trees blurring together in a ribbon of yellowing-green through your dash, all you could think about was the fire Derek’s family died in. Well, that, and another fire that was always lurking somewhere in your mind, hiding in the shadows, just waiting for the chance to jump out and strangle your heart. 

Beacon Hills was a small town. A town where, until very recently, bad things hardly ever happened. What were the chances of two houses going up in flames four years apart? Of two houses burning down to the foundation in the blink of an eye? Of two homes becoming charred rubble and chilling memorials to the lives lost inside? As far as you knew, they were the only unnatural fires that’d occurred in Beacon Hills in the last century. 

It could all be a coincidence, of course. Nothing. Just a delusional, grief-driven conspiracy. It would be best if you accepted that now before you fell too far down this rabbit hole. It’d taken you two years to finally realize that the police were never going to figure out what really happened to your mom, and those two years had been filled with a series of devastating misdirections, hundreds of dashed hopes and unanswered prayers to a god you no longer believed in. You knew better than this. You did. You knew better than to hope. 

But…maybe. Maybe there was something there. If there was an elaborate plot afoot, you knew just the right conspiracy nut to turn to.

The last time you believed in magic, you were six. You had run the entire mile-and-a-half to Maggie’s dad’s store, hands bloody and cupped into a small nest. You’d almost choked on your quiet, congested whimpers, but after a few minutes of blubbering, you’d finally managed to spit out a few words, “You know how to fix him, right? You know everything.” There had to be a spell, you’d thought, with all the wisdom of a first-grade education. There had to be some magic flower or special potion that could make everything better. 

You hadn’t noticed the look on Maggie’s face when you finally opened your fingers, but Maggie had to have been panicking once she saw exactly what needed to be fixed—cradled in your palms, was a tiny, twitching field mouse you’d found on your way home from school. His little chest had heaved so slowly as he laid limply in your hands, as if he’d already accepted his fate. You’d been so young then, too young to realize that Maggie was only nineteen and faked her confidence more often than she felt it. Nineteen had seemed so old at six, and now it was only three years away. 

Maggie had known, of course, that the poor little guy probably wouldn’t live long enough to see nightfall, but she’d made the fatal mistake of looking into your big wet eyes: still so full of hope and belief in the impossible. Instead of telling you the truth, she’d just said, “I got this," and took the mouse to the backroom—where all the magic happened. You never ended up seeing the mouse again. You realized now that probably meant he died, but you appreciated Maggie letting you live in the land of make-believe for just a little while longer. 

But that was ten years ago. Today, you knew that Mags was only mortal and Willowbark couldn’t actually heal fatal rodent wounds—but you were still hoping, against all hopes, that Maggie actually had the answers this time. 

“Mags?” your brow crinkled as you searched for Maggie and her wild curls. Mags often got lost in the midst of all the chaos, just a small blip in a crowded collection of odd, Victorian-esque relics. You could usually spot at least a glimpse of whatever loud color Maggie was sporting that day. The yellows and pinks were always stark against the dingy backdrop, but today the only colors you could see from the front door were varying shades of sage, oxblood, and charcoal. “Maggie?”

A muffled cry sounded from the storeroom, “Back here.”

The door to the backroom was slightly ajar, and the purple lighting from the mini-greenhouse inside spilled through the crack. It cast a mesmerizing strip of dayglow lavender over the dangly earrings and mood rings for sale next to the register. “Bring me the shears, will you? The pink ones by Giz.”

You dropped your backpack behind the glass counter and drifted towards the sounds of Gizmo’s trumpeting snores. The stretch for the pruning scissors was a bit precarious; the little prince was batting his paws at something in the depths of dreamland and had no presence of mind for your fragile skin. You snagged the shears with minimal carnage and ran your finger along the cool edge, staring at the gleaming surface, “You’re into all local history, right? Not just the made-up stuff?”

Maggie took the shears from your lax hands and squatted next to the potted yew tree on the floor. It was just starting to blossom, red berries dotted sparsely around the spiky leaves—ripe for whatever ridiculous offering Maggie had planned. Maggie blew a ringlet out of her face and fixed you with a stern frown, “My ancestors were witches, and Dragons absolutely did exist. Just look at ‘dinosaur’ fossils from the—”

“Do you know anything about the fire the Hale family died in?” you looked down at your hands so that you didn’t have to see Maggie’s reaction. 

You traced circles around a rosy stain on Maggie’s workbench, likely from ground flower petals or dripping pomegranate seeds, shoulders hunching towards your ears as you continued, “I mean, you’re around the same age as the older sister, right?” Laura. You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name, and the hypocrisy was stifling. You hated when people tiptoed around death, when they used pretty euphemisms like that could make what actually happened any less brutal. Less evil. Less unfair. But there was no softening grief. Death. Murder. There was no candy coat sweet enough to cloak the taste of rotting—and yet, you still couldn’t say her name.

Maggie went still briefly and then continued clipping branches, ignoring or not noticing the couple of leaves stuck to her fuzzy sweater. “Why?”

You gritted your teeth and stared a burl in the wood underneath your fingers, “Why do you think?”

Sighing, Maggie spread her clippings across the maple worktop and picked at a few yellowing leaves, “Where is this coming from, babe? I mean, that was a long time ago. I’m almost thirty, you know—ancient by most standards.”

You didn’t smile. Couldn’t. “Do you know anything or not?”

“No,” Maggie sounded genuine, but she kept her eyes on the red stains underneath her fingernails, “nothing more than what was on the news.”

The fact that Maggie didn’t make a quip or a stupid pun was even more telling than her refusal to look in your direction. You folded your arms over your chest and leaned your hip against the doorframe, “Sure.”

“Are you okay, babe?” Maggie wiped the berry residue off on her skirt, and the long hem swished around her ankles as she crept towards you. Her hand was cautious when she placed it on your rigid shoulder, “You aren’t skipping your meds again, are—”

Your eyes flashed as you shook off Maggie’s light touch with a jerk of your shoulder, “Is it possible for me to have a single feeling without everyone jumping down my throat about my meds.”

“I just worry,” Maggie said softly, and she reached for you again, waiting for you to pull away. She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear when you didn’t. Your limbs were still stiff, and your face was still stony, but you let Maggie grab your hand. It was slightly sweaty, probably from all the indoor-gardening, but there was some comfort in the circles she smoothed over your knuckles. “You know I’m a worrier. Comes with the conspiracy theorist in me.”

You looked down at your feet and dug your toes into the concrete floor, “And my mom’s dying wish—I know.”

A bit of hurt quivered in the corners of Maggie’s reassuring smile, even though she tried her best to hide it, “That’s not the reason I do it.”

Your entire frame slumped with guilt, “I know.” And you did; you did know. You made Maggie drive you to the library every weekend before you got your license, and in return Maggie stole about a dozen of your sweaters once she realized you were finally the same size—Mags wasn’t just your mom’s weird friend from the neighborhood; she was family. She taught you how to make pie crust and scones, and she always read ‘happily ever after’ in the lines of your palms when you needed something to smile about. Maggie did a million little things for you without any appreciation, and you tried to remember every single one as you sat on the floor in front of the ‘Local Culture’ shelf.

Your nose scrunched as you looked over the titles on the spines, searching for anything that sounded even remotely real. Maggie knelt next to you, patch-work skirt billowing around her knees, and watched your fingers drum against the floor. 

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Maggie bumped your shoulder with her own, and you grunted a little response.

“Nothing you can help me with.” Evidently, you thought with only a bit of bitterness. 

Maggie didn’t say anything for a long time. You almost forgot she was there, and then her bracelets clacked together as she shifted. “Here,” Maggie pulled a thick journal out of the depths of her baggy cardigan and held it out with a complicated expression on her face—something halfway between a frown and a smile, “I think you’ll find this one particularly interesting.”

You looked down at the title and rubbed your thumb over the engraved font, “‘A History and Detailed Account of Beacon Hills Bloodlines’?” 

Maggie nodded and shoved her hands into her skirt pockets, “Goes back all the way to the beginning—not literally, obviously. I don’t think they wanted to get into the whole ‘God vs. Big Bang’ debate, but it dates back to when the town was founded.”

“That’s…interesting, I guess,” you flipped through the pages and bit down on your tongue to squash the sneer curling across your lips. It was a nice gesture. You knew that—but what else were you supposed to do when the ‘History’ and ‘Detailed Account’ fell open to an artistic diagram of 'local werewolf packs’ genealogy lines. You were a little interested to see if the names were entirely fictional, or if the journal was an accurate record of Beacon Hill’s very own Werewolf Trials. Probably the first, you’d remember learning about extra hairy men and women being burned at the stake in social studies. 

Maggie huffed out a little laugh and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I know you won’t believe everything in there, but who knows,” she shrugged and held out a hand for you to grab onto, “maybe you’ll finally be enlightened.”

You took her hand and hummed, “While you’re feeling so generous and bad for me ‘cause I’m functionally an orphan, could I get some more of that wolfsbane gunk?” You batted your lashes over the edge of the leather cover and grinned your most adorable smile—the one that dusted off a rare view of your dimples, “It can be my birthday present.”

It was an obvious ploy, but Maggie just laughed and poked one of your dimples, “Your birthday is months away.”

You picked up the speed of your blinking, approaching butterfly-wing territory, and rocked onto your tiptoes, “An early birthday present is still a birthday present.” 

Mags watched you through narrowed eyes for a moment, “You don’t even believe in werewolves.”

You shrugged and smirked, “It works on humans too.” 

“Please, please don’t make me an accessory to murder.” Maggie gripped your shoulders and shook you a little, fighting a smile, “I would not fare well in prison. They limit your internet privileges there—no Wi-Fi, babe. No Wi-Fi. I would be completely alone with my thoughts.”

“The horror,” your eyes glittered with your grin, and for a sweet moment you forgot about the journal in your hands and all the questions it wouldn’t answer. “It’s not for me,” you admitted, grimacing as Maggie’s lips puckered. The pursing of her lips, the hollowing of her cheeks—that always came before a very long and arduous inquisition. Maggie could be relentless when she wanted to be. 

“And whom would you be giving such a precious gift to?” The thickness of her brows only magnified the suspicion in Maggie’s tapered expression, “A gift you called—what was it? ‘Useless’ and ‘stupid’ less than 24-hours ago?”  

“Just because I think it’s stupid, doesn’t mean it’s a bad gift for someone else. I thought the Sonic Chia Pet I gave you was stupid, and you loved it.” You knew you won when Maggie started walking away from you towards the storeroom. You still had no idea how Curio Killed the Cat stayed in business when Maggie handed out inventory like candy, but presently its troubling business model was a blessing in disguise.

“Don’t disparage him,” Maggie crooned over her shoulder, “it’s bad luck.”

“If everything is sacred, nothing is,” you sniped, doing your best Vulcan impression.

Maggie smiled brightly as she hopped over the counter, sticking out her tongue, “I don’t think everything is sacred—just all the things I like.”

Speaking of things Maggie liked—you tucked your first gift under your armpit and held out your hands, palms cupped together. Your mouth curved into a cheesy grin as you said, “Trick-or-Treat.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, but her puckish spark dwindled when she looked at the vile of wolfsbane. It was balanced between her thumb and forefinger, glass reflecting the light, and you felt a bit like you were accepting the One Ring and a quest you weren't prepared for. “Be careful, okay?” Maggie hesitated before dropping the vile into your waiting hands, “I know you love Buffy, but resurrection isn’t so easy off-screen.”

You were a little startled by the concern wrinkling the corners of Maggie’s eyes. She looked almost more worried now than she did when you asked her about the Hale fire. “Like I said,” you carefully eased the wolfsbane into your corduroy skirt, “it’s not for me.”

Maggie's eyes combed over your face, searching for something, and then she sighed, “Just…don’t let anyone drag you into something stupid. I don’t care how cute he is; no boy is worth the risk of ruining your gorgeous face. It’s your money-maker, babe.” 

There was a lot to unpack in those three sentences; you didn’t even know where to begin. There was, of course, the implication that you were going to join some kind of Scooby-Doo gang that dealt wolfsbane on the side. While the thought of going ghost hunting with a pair of boys who couldn’t make it to class without tripping over their feet was, in fact, asinine…that wasn’t the part twisting stubborn knots around your ear canal. 

Your face was dragged down by a broody pout, “For your information, I’m not giving it to Stiles; it’s actually for a guy who isn’t the leading cause of pulmonary embolisms in Beacon County—and I don’t think either of them are cute.” 

That wasn’t strictly true. You did think that Scott was cute, just like you thought Gizmo was cute when he pleaded for treats. You could see the appeal of Scott McCall, why Allison liked him, but you hadn’t thought someone was cute like that in a very long time. A person generally had to actually look at people to think they were cute, and you hadn’t looked beyond forcing one foot in front of the other and your nubby nails in years. 

And as far as Stiles went…honestly, you hadn’t really considered the concept of Stiles as an actual person until Maggie had to go and imply it. You supposed, now that you were thinking about it, he had an objectively nice face: big eyes, button nose, nice jaw—but when you saw him in person, it was almost always covered with an infuriating smirk or making obnoxious sounds. You usually just wanted to shove it away from you. Sometimes, when Stiles was being particularly difficult, you even thought about flicking him right in his long-lashed, honeycomb eyes. You wondered if the Sheriff would arrest you if you— 

That’s right, your eyes rounded with the thought, Stiles is the Sheriff's son.

The recollection rang through every single one of your thoughts and echoed along the caverns of your skull, sparing you from ruminating on something far, far scarier. You were much more comfortable with deduction. 

Your brow furrowed as you pushed yourself over the counter to grab your backpack—sure that Maggie would misinterpret your impromptu exit, but too lost in through to really care—Stiles is the Sheriff's son. You forgot that sometimes. They were so different, after all, and you were certain that Stiles had broken the law at least a few times in his life, but he was. Stiles was the Sheriff's son, and he probably knew things that he shouldn’t. Things that were only kept in confidential files. Fortunately, you didn’t need to think that someone was cute to use them for information. 

“Methinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Maggie chirped. She was fiddling with her branches in the back again, picking the berries and dropping them into a little stone bowl. 

You scowled at the berries like it was their fault you were in this predicament, “Gertrude sucks.

“And yet she was correct,” Maggie tossed a berry at your forehead, and it landed dead-center on the tip of your nose, dripping a small trail of crimson juice onto your cupid’s bow. Maggie laughed until a burst of snorts consumed her giggles, and you scowled deeper as you wiped your nose clean with your sleeve.

“And yet, she’s the prime example of doing something stupid for a boy.” You made a point of flipping Maggie off before trudging towards the door.

You pushed the exit open with your shoulder—rushing to get home to your notebook and pens. Ideas had a way of slipping away from you; you liked to make them real. Tangible. Inked lines and loops that couldn’t be erased. 

Maggie cupped your cheeks before you could slither away to your car, startling you out of your head. “Don’t be Gertrude. Don’t be stupid,” Maggie said, incredibly solemn, but the twinkle of mischief in her eye ruined the 'Yoda effect'. 

You pursed your lips as your eyes flitted towards the side, “I’ll do my best to not marry my dead husband’s brother-killer.” The door swung shut behind you, cutting off the trill of Maggie’s laughter. 

You spent the rest of the night on your bed, sitting cross-legged with your notebook spread open across your lap. You tapped your pen against your knee and watched the blades on your ceiling fan spin into a fuzzy Saturn ring until your eyes watered. You were trying, and failing, to think of a way to ask Stiles for help without him making a big deal about it—contemplating if it was truly worth all the aggravation.

Sighing, you sketched random swirling lines in purple ink. They interconnected in a pretty pattern that eventually took the shape of the maze on your pendant. There was no way out of the labyrinth without breaking down a wall; it was hopeless, a path that never ended. People who entered the maze would be doomed to walk in circles until they littered the ground with their decomposing skeletons—and oh how you envied them. 

Stiles would never let it go; you were pretty damn sure of that. He would poke, and prod, and stick his upturned nose into your business until he'd thoroughly invaded your privacy and got all the answers to his meddlesome questions. He could never ju—

The sound of paper tearing dragged you out of your pitiful brooding, and you sighed. Your pen had ripped through the center of the maze. You held the page up to the light, and it shone through the hole, blinding you momentarily. 

There was no escaping the labyrinth—there was only pushing straight though. 

You spent a lot of your time observing people lately. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounded, at least you hoped it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. It was just…ever since Stiles dragged you back into the present—kicking, screaming, and bitching the entire way—you had been…overwhelmed by how alive everything was. It felt like so much had happened in the last four years. Everyone had gone on living while you’d hidden away in your mind and rotted in your room. 

You couldn’t put a name to the strange feeling twisting in your chest. You were angry, of course, so angry that people had the audacity to just… live, like there wasn’t a gigantic, bleeding void in the world that had yet to scar over—that might never truly close—but there was something else mixed in with the bitterness, something sweeter.

There was a certain kind of beauty, you mused, in the way they enjoyed such silly things. There was just something about the way they found joy in sparkly nail polish, and their favorite song, and a boy looking in their general direction that had you choking on a foreign warmth. Everyone had something, and it was beautiful to see people grow their worlds around the ugliness while you weren't so consumed with shrinking yours. 

Leaning back against your locker, you watched two freshmen girls walk side-by-side until a flock of tropical-scented, lip-gloss-coated sophomore girls passed them. The taller of the two trailed after them, linking arms with a blonde in the back of the pack. The shorter one watched their hair swish over their shoulders until they walked around the corner, absently tugging at a beaded bracelet on her wrist the entire time. 

In three weeks, she’d start eating lunch alone in the library, hiding in the dark book closet with outdated textbooks as her only companions. In five, they wouldn’t speak unless they had to. You gave the girl a weak smile when she accidentally made eye-contact. Sorry, babe, I read your future. You didn’t even need to see the girl’s palm. 

You pushed yourself off of your locker and shook your head a little, regrouping your thoughts as you slid into your seat next to Stiles. He looked tired. He was slumped over his desk, chin propped on his folded arms, and his eyelids hung heavily over the exhaustion coating his directionless gaze. He barely acknowledged your presence, grunting a little and nudging your foot with his. 

You hid your smile behind your English binder and turned in your seat to face him. “Hey,” you paused, bundling the meager bits and pieces of courage in your chest, and then said, “your perpetual nosiness—that extends to your dad too, right?”

Stiles’s head lulled to the side, cheek pressed against his folded arms, evidently too drained to sit-up. He trailed his squinted gaze over your face, eyes hooded and unblinking, “Why?”

“No reason.” You drummed your pencil against your desk and watched the long red arrow tick forward on the clock above the whiteboard. Stiles watched you fidget with a little sleepy smirk eased into the corners of his mouth, patient and still for the first time since you’d met. It was a shame you couldn’t revel in it. 

You lost the stalemate after your desperation became too thick to swallow, “I need to see a case file. There’s like…nothing on the internet or in Maggie’s local history sagas.” 

That got his attention. Stiles leaned forward, glimmering with intrigue and ill-intent, and said, “Which case?”

“None of your business,” you retorted reflexively. Stiles gave you an amused look and cupped his cheek in his palm, waiting for the inevitable apology. You withered against your chair and muttered, “Does it matter?”

He snorted and lifted a shoulder, “I have a right to know what I’m potentially putting my life on the line for; breaking and entering is a very serious crime, y’know.”

You huffed and glared a little at your clasped hands, “Somehow I know you’ve done worse.”

Stiles didn’t deny it. He just grinned proudly and scooted closer to you, “Seriously, what’s so important you’re willing to steal something from the police?”

“Not steal,” you corrected, a bit too petulantly for your liking, “just…borrow indefinitely.” 

“Uh huh,” Stiles pursed his lips and almost went cross-eyed scrutinizing your face, “so what’s so important you’re willing to ‘borrow’ classified information from the police ‘indefinitely’?”

You paused, not entirely sure how to answer his question without spilling over the edges and ruining everything. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, bowing your head a little. You picked at a hangnail until it was tender and inflamed, “Just a hunch, really. It’s probably nothing.”

Stiles tapped his fingers against his desk, fast and furious, and let out a dramatic puff of air, “I could help you if you’d, y’know, tell me literally one single thing about it.”

“I don’t need your help,” you scoffed, feet sliding out in front of you as you sunk into your chair. 

He cocked his head and hummed, looking far too smug for 7:45 in the morning, “Besides the whole ‘stealing my dad’s keycard and making it actually possible for you to read it’ thing, right?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mumbled, stalling the inevitable. It felt a little too much like losing to admit that you needed him—even though…you definitely needed him. It was a rather unfortunate fact you were fruitlessly still trying to deny.

Stiles rolled his eyes, neck too, and grabbed his backpack from the floor, “Forgive me for having a hobby.”

He opened his backpack, and you imagined, just for a moment, the zipper latching onto his mouth like a singularly-tentacled alien. It would solve all your problems; you could zip and unzip him whenever you wanted. If only. Sighing, you dropped your head against your knuckles, “Which is…irritating me?”

“Putting the pieces together,” Stiles dropped his coffee-warped, dogeared copy of Metamorphosis onto his desk and flipped to the assigned chapter. His eyes flicked from right to left, pace ridiculously fast, as he scanned through the pages. If it were anyone else, you would’ve assumed it was all for show. “I was a jigsaw kid,” he murmured, nose still stuck in his book.

Your lip stung as you gnawed on the cracking center, “If I tell you what I’m looking for, you’ll help me?”

“That,” Stiles punctuated his statement with a dramatic page flip, “and I might need a tiny favor from you.” He held his pointer finger and thumb together, almost touching, and flashed a toothy smile over the bent cover of his book, “Just an itty-bitty, very small, totally not a big deal favor.”

Your face turned thoroughly sour, “Oh god.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, like he didn’t just intentionally plant the seeds of dead bodies and false alibis in your mind two seconds ago, and huffed, “I just want to check on Lydia, okay? I think I’ll have a better chance of getting in through the front door with you.”

Your smirk flattened, “Why?”

His mouth hung open for a second, and then he shook his head firmly, peering at you through pinched lids, “You first.”

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, shifting your foot from left to the right, watching the fluorescent lights bounce off of the burgundy leather. The extra shine only made the scuffs on the toes more pronounced. “I want to look into the Hale fire, okay?” Your voice got trapped in your throat, so your tone wasn’t as biting as you wanted it to be, “Happy?”

You would’ve been content to keep staring at your boots until class ended, but your attention snapped back to Stiles when he inhaled sharply. He looked baffled, and maybe even a little green in the face, and you were starting to feel a little queasy yourself—nerves tended to turn your stomach upside-down and inside-out all in the same excruciatingly slow flip. His mouth was already ajar, but it took him several red-hand ticks to finally speak, “Why?” 

“Nuh uh,” you crossed your arms and sat upright, rolling your shoulders back, “you go now.”

Stiles was still looking at you with an odd expression on his face, a little too distracted to be difficult. He answered you without any inflection in his voice, “She didn’t show up for homeroom.”

Your intestines unspun with your faint inhale and then immediately dropped to the floor along with your heart as you let out a weak, trembling exhale, “...and?”

Stiles recovered from his momentary lapse in vexation and leaned onto his forearms, "And it’s your turn again.”

You wished you had a simple answer for him, and, even more so, you wished you were a better liar. “There’s kinda no way to answer that without trauma dumping all over you,” you mumbled, intensively examining the fine ridges in your nails. 

“I can handle a little trauma.” Stiles rapped his knuckles against the top of his head and smiled a little, “I’ve got nothin’ but space up here.” 

People always said that—that they’d be there for you no matter what, that they could handle anything—and then they got a real good look at the ugly of it all, at the dirty hair and rotting kitchen, at the prolonged silences and self-absorbed isolation. People usually took off running pretty quickly after that. At least, Lydia had.

“There haven’t been that many residential fire fatalities here. Just two cases, actually.” You chewed on your thumbnail and shrugged, “I know they said the Hale fire was an accident, but…maybe there’s a connection.” You swallowed, and your boot squeaked against the floor when you kicked at the ground, “Or maybe I’m just a dumbass with too much spare time.”

Stiles stared at you, and you could see the exact moment he connected the pieces. You were expecting the usual nauseating sympathy, the well-intentioned kindness that always flirted with the edge of pity, oftentimes landing smack-dab in the middle of it—but there wasn’t a drip of pity in his eyes. They were filled with grief; for you or for someone else, you didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t matter. More importantly, perhaps, his eyes were shining with…relief, pure and simple relief that nothing else needed to be said. 

“I’ll get you into the file room,” Stiles said, low and soft in his throat, and he didn’t look away from you until Scott slid in-between your desks. They did a complicated series of high-fives and hand-shakes with a few ‘knucks’ thrown in here and there for good measure. 

Before Scott sat down behind Stiles, he smiled in your direction. You looked past him, assuming Allison was behind you, and watched a red-breasted robin flit around a tree through the window. You saw Scott’s hand move in your peripheral vision, and when you tore your eyes away from the streak of scarlet feathers and blue sky, your lips tipped into a timid smile. Scott was waving at you; he was smiling at you. You didn’t know when your world went from no friends to two, but it felt oddly…normal. Smiling back at Scott, dodging Stiles’s kicks at your feet, trying not to laugh at their goofy faces. It felt like it was part of your routine, exactly the same as organizing your pens and pencils on top of your desk at the start of class, and just like that: normal twisted into terrifying. 

You chewed on the end of your pen when you felt Stiles’s gaze on the side of your face, “So…why do you want to see Lydia—besides your typical stalker behavior, obviously.” 

“You’re gonna feel like such an asshole,” Stiles grinned a little and nudged your toes, but there was something strange tucked in the corners of his mouth, something a bit grim, a bit afraid. Whatever it was, his cheeks didn’t dimple with his smile, and you gnawed on your lip once you realized that you not only noticed their absence but you missed them. 

You peeked at him from under your lashes and frowned when you saw that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone too. Stiles’s grin eroded away to little more than a flat line once he started speaking again, “Jackson was attacked by…something last night—they’re saying mountain lion, but you and I both know that’s bullshit—anyway, she was pretty freaked out when my dad got there.”

You stiffened, spinal column drawing into a taut line from the crown of your skull to your tailbone, and your blood went cold. You already knew Lydia hadn't shown up for school today. You always knew—you felt Lydia’s absence just as fiercely as her presence. The air was just different somehow. You didn’t even have to look for her anymore; an innate rabbit-sense always reared its head when Lydia was too far away…when she was too close. Your instincts couldn’t agree on anything. They couldn’t decide if Lydia was a rabbit or a fox, and it was exhausting—but at the moment all you wanted, all you needed, was to make sure that Lydia hadn’t been torn apart by a monster with sharp claws and serrated teeth. 

“And she isn’t here,” you finally said, barely above a whisper.

“And she isn’t here,” Stiles echoed, just as quiet. 

“Okay,” your head bobbed with a decisive nod, knees moving before your mind had the chance to scold them, “let’s go.”

Stiles’s jaw unhinged alarmingly fast and comically wide, “Wha—now?”

You pushed everything on your desk into your backpack with a broad sweep of your arm and jerked your head towards the door, “Come on, before class starts.”

Stiles blinked at you for a few moments and then floundered for his things when you started walking out of the room without him. He stumbled into a desk in his rapid, ever-so clumsy efforts to catch up with you and twisted around to salute Scott’s empty chair. Apparently, neither of you had noticed his exit. It seemed it was a perfect morning for ditching class, but you didn’t dwell on the consequences for long. Your focus was single-minded and unwavering, and Stiles had to jog to keep up with your stalwart stride. 

“Since when are you so helpful,” he muttered, slightly out of breath. 

“I told you,” you gave him a wry smile and shoved the exit door open with your back, holding it for Stiles until he was halfway through the frame—and then you promptly stepped out of the way and watched the door swing shut on his backpack. Your lips twitched with a grin, “I’m a nice girl.”

Stiles yelped a little and looked over his shoulder, ensuring all his limbs were intact before yanking on his straps. His backpack smacked into his shoulders, and the heavy textbooks inside slammed together with a satisfying thump. You snickered and dodged his attempts to kick the back of your knees.

Glowering, Stiles switched tactics and tried to step on your nimble feet. Tragically for him, all the fire in his indignation was lost to his plush pout, “Since when?”

You rolled your eyes and waited next to his jeep, anxiously tracing little swirls in the dirt caked onto the passenger door, “Since I met you.” 

You missed the look on Stiles’s face, but that was for the best. His honeyed smile would’ve changed your mind, and you had an ex-best friend to attend to.

****************************

The jeep was quiet for the first few minutes of the drive—at least, it was as quiet as a decrepit clunker could be. There were various clangs and squeals in-between the engine’s low rumble, and a soft indie song filled the silences in-between, but the air felt still. Stiles was intently focused on the road ahead, thumbs drumming against the steering wheel to a beat of his own making, while you picked at your cuticles, cycling between anxiety and denial. It was a subliminal game of chicken that Stiles eventually lost. 

After a few false starts, Stiles blurted out, “You ever gonna tell me what happened?”

You stared straight ahead, through the bug-splattered windshield and down the winding street, “Nope.”

“Fine. That’s fine.” Stiles flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, straightening them to their impressive full-length, and then wrapped them around the wheel again. His grip was as tight as the grit of his teeth, “I don’t even want to know anyway.” You lulled your head to the side to smirk at him, but you kept your mouth thoroughly closed. Stiles’s gaze flicked in your direction briefly, and then he directed his eye roll towards the road, “I don’t. Keep your boring secret.”

You settled further into the passenger seat and propped your feet on the dash, grin warm with satisfaction, “I will.”

The beat of Stiles’s thumbs sped up, thundering against ‘9’ and ‘3’ while you hummed along to the trickle of piano and acoustic guitar strumming through the cracked speakers. The time on the dash display flickered from 8:15 to 8:16, and Stiles let out a long, drawn-out groan, “Will you just tell me! It’s killing me. Seriously, I’m going to credit you in my epitaph. ‘Here lies Stiles Stilinski: Another Victim of Gaslighting, Gatekeeping, and Girlbossing.’”

“They say you always remember your first,” you sighed dreamily, battering your butterfly lashes. The mole on the hinge of his jaw jumped with a harsh swallow, and you grinned. 

Stiles snorted and then immediately grimaced like he was irritated with his mouth for having the audacity to laugh in the midst of his despair. “Good to know I’m just part of a pattern.”

“I don’t know about that,” you hummed, resting your temple against the window. The morning sun warmed your skin and washed your face with a glimmer of gold that glittered with the devilry in your eyes. You smirked at Stiles and poked the mole just below his earlobe, “I have yet to meet anyone as homicidally inspiring as you.”

He pulled a face to hide his smile as the jeep puttered to a stop against the curb, and you looked over his shoulder, blinking slowly. You hadn’t realized you were so close to Lydia’s house until you were parked in front of it. 

The colonial estate loomed largely through the window. The long white pillars stood oppressively alongside the double entrance, and the meticulously manicured lawn screamed ‘keep off’ louder than any sign or barbed-wire fence. Lydia’s house had always been more like a monument than a home: an art installation, an antique, something to be admired not loved.

Tilting your head, you squinted at the familiar windows and counted along the second floor until you found Lydia’s room. The heavy purple curtains were drawn closed, and you were a little surprised that Lydia hadn’t redecorated in the last couple years. It was probably different on the inside; sixteen was a little old for dollhouses and princess crowns.

Growing up, Lydia’s room was stocked with every Barbie accessory on the market, and yet you always played Barbies at your house. Every single time. When her dad was home, Lydia’s house had teetered between too quiet and too loud. A constant vague unease hung heavily in the air, even with the volume on her CD player turned all the way up. No boy band could drown out all the screaming and icy silences, but you'd tried. Oh how you'd tried. It happened so often, you’d eventually gotten used to the noise, but you could tell it’d bothered Lydia, no matter how unbothered she’d tried to seem. 

In comparison, your house was the Dreamhouse. It was so warm before it became empty. Your mom always had something baking in the oven, and Lydia had never looked more at home than when she was tucked on your window seat, plate of brownies by her side, with your mom’s gentle hands braiding her hair out of her face. You hadn’t ever minded sharing; Lydia needed the attention more than you did. She was so much softer than people gave her credit for, far more fragile than they’d ever know. 

In spite of her current taste in boys, Lydia used to be a steadfast romantic. She'd always wanted to reenact the romance novels stacked on her nightstand, a little heartbreak before the inevitable happily ever after. She used to read so voraciously there was a new plot to perform every day. You were also a bookworm, but your tastes had inspired morbid hits such as Black Widow Barbie and Dreamhouse Zombie Outbreak. You'd usually take turns, or Barbie ended up falling in love with zombie Ken until he chomped on her arm. 

“Not her brains,” Lydia had always insisted, “Barbie is the brains of the relationship.” 

Lydia, you'd argue, Lydia was the brain. The only one that mattered.

Warm skin on your knuckles gently drew you back into the present. Stiles’s brow was pinched with concern, and his hand lingered on yours until you brushed him off with a shake of your head—but, as you’d come to learn the last couple weeks, Stiles Stilinski was nothing if not relentless. He leaned into your side as you walked along the lengthy driveway, sending you stumbling a few paces to the right. You glared at him, but it was watered down with stubborn affection. His mouth curled into a lopsided grin, and you forgot about the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until Stiles rang the doorbell. They came back full force when you heard a pair of high heels clicking towards them. 

Lydia’s mom peered out the door. She looked confused as she took in Stiles’s smile, stretched far too wide to look even remotely casual. Then, her gaze landed on you and her face broke out into a bright grin, “Y/N?”

You’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was; beauty ran just as deeply as old money in the Martin family. Lydia was born with her mom’s golden-red hair and hazel eyes, and they had the same dimpled smile. It was always difficult to see anything beyond the brilliance of their perfect teeth and incandescent skin. 

“Come here,” Mrs. Martin pulled you into a tight hug and cupped the back of your head with a steady hand. Your arms remained stiff by your sides, voice sticky in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been hugged like this; the realization hurt more than you thought it would.

After a moment, your shoulders slumped, and you turned your face into Mrs. Martin’s shoulder. She still smelled the same, like patchouli and luxury, “Hi.”

She held you out at arm's-length, hands on your shoulders, and shook her head, “There’s no way that this beautiful young woman is the same little girl who tried to keep a frog colony in my guest bathroom. I can’t be that old.”

“You literally look exactly the same,” you smiled a little and rubbed your bicep.

“It has been far, far too long.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in your sleeves and then stepped back into the doorframe, “What can I do for you?”

“I…” your mouth went dry, and you looked everywhere except Mrs. Martin’s face. Your eyes flashed between the silver door knockers, the winding ivy, the sculpted shrubs. Everything was exactly the same. Nothing, not even the house, had noticed your absence. 

“We came to check on Lydia,” Stiles nudged your shoulder, and you blinked a few times. Mrs. Martin was watching you with big emphatic eyes—and you hated it. 

You swallowed and nodded, “Yeah…we brought her homework.”

“Come in.” She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose with freshly manicured nails, “She took a little something to relax herself, so please excuse…well, just be prepared.” Mrs. Martin sighed, and for the first time it looked like the last four years had actually aged her. She attempted a smile, but it was shriveled at the corners, “You remember the way, don’t you?”

A nod rolled up your neck to your head. You couldn’t find the words to tell Mrs. Martin that you weren’t the same girl anymore. You almost felt like her in this house: small, wild, still full of dreams. You crept up the curved staircase slowly, delaying the inevitable, and ran your fingers along the iron railing. You broke your arm falling off of it nine years ago. It was a nasty fracture that put you in a cast all summer, but it’d seemed worth it at the time. At least, you’d thought so. Your mom and Mrs. Martin hadn’t agreed with your assessment at the hospital.

You felt a twinging urge to run to the top of the stairs and slide down the railing until you became dizzy—and just like that, you were seven years old again, and you weren't scared of death or ending up alone. 

“You coming?” Stiles called from the top of the stairs. 

You nodded stiffly and pushed past him to the last door on the left. You held your hand on the doorknob and pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, scowling at the anxiety crawling under your skin. You were being ridiculous. It wasn’t like you were the one who ended up in an ambulance last night.

You rapped your knuckles against the door a few times, even though it was already cracked open wide enough to catch a glimpse of the raspberry walls and flower chandelier. “Lyds–ia. Lydia,” you cleared your throat and peeked into Lydia’s room, “it’s me. I mean, it’s Y/N.” Stiles nudged you in the ribs, and you sighed, “And Stiles.”

Lydia was face-down on her four-poster bed, slowly combing her fingers through her unbrushed hair. She smacked her lips together a few times, and then her head popped up from her mountain of throw pillows, “You still haven’t explained what the hell a Stiles is.”

You snorted and shot Stiles a pointed look. He pursed his lips and glanced around the room until he spotted a little bottle of pills on top of her vanity. He read the lengthy label and let out a low whistle, “Bet you can’t say, ‘I saw Sally sell seashells by the seashore.’”

Lydia swung her legs over the foot of her bed and leaned forward, eyes sparking with bullheaded determination. “I saw….I saw…” The light in her eyes faded as she drifted off to a place no one else could see.

You sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. You didn’t have to tell your body to move; it knew before you did. Finding Lydia when she was lost, it was like…swimming to the surface, shivering in a storm, bracing for a fall. It was an instinct so deeply rooted in your soul you couldn’t rip it out without rupturing an artery. You watched Lydia’s eyes focus on your face, felt her fingers lace with yours, and all you knew was the slow thump of Lydia’s pulse against your thumb.

Lydia squeezed your hand and swiveled to face you. Her eyes were still cloudy, but something warm dawned behind the fog. You felt the pit in your stomach roll. Lydia sighed happily, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

“Well,” you almost choked on the lump in your throat and struggled to support Lydia’s weight as she went boneless against your side, “here I am.” You searched for some assistance with Lydia’s rapidly sinking frame, but Stiles was busy poking around every nook and cranny in the room. “Stiles,” you snapped. 

He wrenched his hand away from Lydia’s bottle of Dior perfume, purple just like the rest of the room, and clasped it behind his back. “What?” 

You gestured violently towards Lydia's wilting spine and rolled your eyes when he tripped over a discarded boot in his, frankly pathetic, haste to get to Lydia’s other side. You gently maneuvered her until she was propped up against her pillows. 

“Don’t go away again, okay?” Lydia licked her lips and looked like she was about to cry—so much like a scared little girl, your heart clenched. “I keep losing you.”

“I,” you stared at her with wide eyes, and the bottle of pills enveloped your peripheral vision, “I just wanted to see if you were alright…after last night.”

“Last night,” Lydia slurred, nuzzling back against her pillows.

“Yeah, last night,” Stiles folded his arms over his chest and arched his brow, “remember anything about it?”

“I remember…” Lydia looked like she was going to cry again, eyes glassy and round, but the chemical high quickly swept over the tide, “I remember a mountain lion.”

Stiles’s head tipped back between his shoulder blades, and his cheeks slowly puffed into pink little domes as he held his breath. Apparently, there was one thing more powerful than Stiles Stilinski’s obsession with Lydia Martin: his impatience. Stiles’s lips puckered as a loud sigh whooshed through his teeth. He crouched down to Lydia’s eye-level, “You remember seeing a mountain lion, or you remember them telling you it was a mountain lion?”

Lydia hummed and nodded until her hair fell in front of her face, “Mountain lion.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles reached for a stuffed giraffe next to her shoulder and shook it in her face, “what’s this?”

“Mountain lion,” Lydia’s head bobbed sharply. 

You snatched the stuffed animal out of Stiles’s hand, scowling as you bludgeoned his arm with the giraffe’s head. “Leave her alone. She’s doped out of her mind.” 

“Clearly,” Stiles snorted, watching Lydia curl a strand of her hair around her finger, completely entranced by the frizzy strands. 

“What did you want her to say?” You smoothed a few stray hairs sticking up from the crown of Lydia’s head back into place and met Stiles’s gaze, face impassive, “Werewolf?”

He opened his mouth and gaped like a particularly brainless fish. Before he could come up with a coherent answer—or any kind of answer, actually—Lydia’s text-tone chimed. Stiles dove across the bed for her phone, but you smacked his hand with the giraffe before he could touch it. “You are so not reading her texts, lonely boy.”

“I was just trying to help.” Stiles flopped onto her vanity chair and crossed his arms, squirming sullenly, “She can barely string two words together, let alone an actual thought.”

“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until she’s good and hungover tomorrow.” You glanced down at Lydia’s phone and paused. It was a video file. From an unknown number. 

“Hey,” Lydia poked her head up and pointed at Stiles until the weight of her arm became too much to bear. It fell on top of her stomach like a limp noodle, “You.”

“Me,” Stiles squeaked. 

You muted the video and made sure Stiles was sufficiently distracted by the curl of Lydia’s finger before you pressed play. Nothing happened at first. The video was shot in a strange, almost voyeuristic style, and the lighting was terrible, so dim you could barely tell that the camera was facing a large window. You squinted and made out the video store’s sign flickering above the door. So, this was from last night. Weird—but at least it wasn’t revenge porn; that had been your first guess. 

You’d almost given up on finishing the video, and then the camera angle moved. Two red eyes flashed in the darkness, a large…something smashed through the glass, and you bit down on your thumbnail so hard blood welled through the sidewalls. 

It was a goof, obviously. Some kind of poorly edited creepypasta. A cruel prank someone sent Lydia after they heard what happened last night. Had to be. Your hands shook as you sent yourself the video, and then you deleted it from Lydia’s phone. Your number, you realized once you stopped seeing red, was still saved as ☀️✨Babe!!!!✨☀️ in Lydia’s contacts. It took you longer than it should have to delete the sent message.

“If you’re done fighting your erection, we should get going.” Your voice sounded remarkably even, considering how scattered your mind was. It was certainly more composed than the babble spewing from Stiles’s mouth.

“I do not have—it’s not like—I wasn’t—she thought I was someone else.”

“Ah,” your phone felt heavy in your pocket, “real boner killer.”

Stiles sighed through his nose, “New rule, you can't make fun of anything I do or say when Lydia's in my fuckin' lap. Starting now."

He must’ve known something was wrong when you didn’t argue. That, and the way you practically sprinted out of the house to avoid seeing anyone else. Your hands were still shaking when you crawled into the jeep, and Stiles shot about a dozen little furious, concerned glances in your direction, but you couldn’t seem to move your tongue. 

Your bottom lip quivered. Your chest tightened until your ribs corseted your lungs. The screech of your ground teeth sent an unpleasant chill down your spine, but you’d rather choke on a chipped tooth than let the beast howling in your throat escape—the last thing you needed was to cry in the passenger seat next to Stiles Stilinski.

You were clearly losing your mind; everyone said it was only a matter of time—watching a loved one burn to death tended to have that effect on a person. Not that you remembered much, but you were clearly off your rocker if you were having vivid, day-time hallucinations of red-eyed monsters roaming the streets of Beacon Hills. 

You wiped your sweat-damp palms on your dress and bounced your leg up and down, driving your heel into the floor over and over again—and then you felt a solid warmth over your knee. Your eyes were a little wild when you followed the trail of Stiles’s arm to his face, and the divot between his brows deepened when he met your gaze, “Hey, she’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

Your head jerked with a quick nod, and you sucked in a few shallow breaths, “I know.” The air got stuck in your chest, and your heart flapped erratically as the back of your eyelids played reruns of a familiar film starring your narrowing trachea. You dug your toes into the dusty floor mat, scrambling for any kind of grasp on reality, and choked on your words, “Her mom always…had…the good shit.”

Stiles kept his hand on your knee and then shook his head, pulling over against the curb and putting the jeep in park. “You don’t have to talk, but you gotta breathe.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was squeezing your kneecap in even intervals. You inhaled and exhaled with the flex of his joints until the panic receded enough for embarrassment to heat your cheeks. You slammed your head back against the seat and stared at the steel roof. You hoped that if you ignored the tears bubbling along your lash line, they’d instantaneously evaporate before they could spill onto your cheeks, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t usually…this hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Stiles chewed on his cheek and pulled his hand back into his lap. He drummed his fingers against his kneecap and then spoke softly, “I used to get ‘em too. Sucked.” Stiles stared out the dashboard, watching but not really seeing dead leaves swirl in little circles over the asphalt, “Happened a lot after my mom died.”

You froze for a moment, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. You realized, belatedly, that you hadn’t ever heard the Sheriff talk about his wife, not even once in the last four years, even though he wore a gold band on his left ring finger. It hadn’t even occurred to you to ask. 

You never had the right words to explain it. For a long time, you spoke in ripples at therapy, incomprehensible circles that skirted the point in an endless loop—but you realized, as you got stuck on the honey in Stiles’s eyes, you didn’t need the right words here. With him. In fact, you didn’t really need any words at all. “Me too.”

Stiles watched your eyes steadily, and his fingers stilled against his legs, “Yeah?”

You nodded and swallowed a little, “Yeah.”

A smile tugged on his mouth, tangled with too many paradoxes to parse in the soft, short moment humming between you. You smiled back at him, far more timidly, but that wasn’t a surprise. He was brave, you decided, much braver than you. It was contagious. 

Your tongue darted out, licking your chapped lips, and you clung to the fragile current of courage lapping against the back of your teeth. “We just stopped talking.” 

Stiles glanced at you, clearly confused. 

“Lydia and I.” You knotted your fingers in the hem of your dress and tugged on it every time you felt the stopper in your throat start to swell, “We just stopped being friends after my mom died. That’s why I didn’t…I mean, there’s not really a story to tell. We were close, and then I woke up one day, and we weren’t anymore.”

Stiles turned until he was facing you, leaning against the door and struggling to find a comfortable angle for his long legs. “Most people…they’re okay with the funeral part ‘cause it’s pretty simple—y’know: hold hands, bring food, pretend no one’s crying. And then after comes, and they can’t figure out what to do because it’s over, but it’s not.”

“Limbo,” you mirrored his position and pulled your knees to your chest. You rocked the soles of your boots from heel to toe, like small patent leather boats adrift on a sea of faded nylon, “It’s limbo, and everyone else is so incredibly, hideously alive.” 

The relief was back in Stiles’s eyes, and you were swimming in it. He nodded and bent his knees, scooching his feet until the toes of his sneakers were pressed against yours. “Yeah," he exhaled, and the moment felt important, like something you were supposed to remember on your deathbed. You tried to memorize the look on Stiles's face, but you didn't know where to start. How could you etch infinity?  

“It wasn’t just her,” you admitted out loud for the first time. 

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged a little and gave you a grin that brought the dimples back to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile at their reappearance, “but we can pretend it was, just for today.” 

You let out a breath that felt like a laugh and lifted your toes, dropping them on top of his and pressing down until they were pinned beneath the tread of your boots. Stiles narrowed his eyes and wriggled his feet free, fighting your scurrying ankles with his tongue trapped between his teeth. His triumphant cry when he finally caught the tip of your laces was just enthusiastic enough to coerce another laugh through your clamped lips. 

The soft smile Stiles gave you while you laughed made his body go lax and the back of your neck warm. You quickly bent over to retie your laces, and he turned to restart the engine. 

“I should probably get us back to school,” Stiles ran his hand over his head. “My dad'll kill me if I get marked truant again.”

“It’s parent teacher conferences tonight,” you recalled as the words left your mouth. You slunk down in your seat, chin catching on the seatbelt, “I’ve never skipped school before. I have no idea what my dad’s gonna say.”

Stiles’s attention shifted from the road to your profile, “Really?”

“What?” you crossed your arms over your chest and blew your hair out of your eyes.

“Nothing,” Stiles tried to hide his smirk, but it was too sharp to cover with a cough, “it’s just…hasn’t everyone skipped at least once?”

“What would I even do?” The corner of your mouth tugged into a dry smile, “Visit my catatonic ex-best friend?”

Stiles nodded agreeably, and then his head danced from side to side, rolling over other options, “Or bowling. Bowling is fun.”

You grumbled a little in your throat and sunk further into the cradle of your hips, “I hate bowling.”

Stiles grinned, “Yeah, me too.”

Pausing, your bottom lip wormed its way between your teeth, “I’d play D&D with you, though.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you watched the sun disappear behind the tree line over the hill and ignored the feeling of being examined like a bacterial petri dish.

“See, we are friends. The best of friends, actually. Two peas in the proverbial pod.”

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

[crow-n-tell]

HELLO AND WELCOOOOME TO!

What kind of jellyfish is sun?

I got some requests about getting a lil layout of what jellyfish types I combined to get him the way I did for moon in this post. It’s not as fun and detailed as moons because, let’s face it: jellyfish are pretty straight forward but!! Here

Phacellophora Camtschatica

aka The Fried Egg Jellyfish.

This is the biggest and most obvious part of Sunny’s design, he‘s an egg boy and I love him for it. But also there’s an interesting bit about the relationship between fried egg jellyfish and larval crabs. See these lil baby crabs?

Yeah so they climb inside fried egg jellyfish and just. RIDE AROUND IN THEIR BELL? Consequences be damned lil dudes chillin in there getting a ride. Which makes this the second time I’ve seen other animals use jellyfish as transportation. Baby octopus, baby crabs, with sun’s size it’s safe to say reader could probably do the same.

Though maybe reader wouldn’t want to do that because the whole reason larval crabs are chilling in their bell is also because jellyfish, while not capable of being infected by parasites cause they… they don’t have the bits that help parasites do the meat suit piloting… are carriers of parasites! They just walk around with em chilling in there. Larval crabs love monchin on em.

Next up is!!

Chrysaora Fuscesscens

aka

Honestly pacific sea nettles don't have many interesting facts about them. What can I say? they are very very long - talking 15 feet long. Other than that there isn't much else to say, I wish I could list something insane off like, OH THEY’VE GOT LAZER EYES. Nope. These guys float around looking like beautiful undersea mushrooms and they need no special skills to do that.

Uh. Yeah it’s not a jellyfish. This specially has to do with Sunny’s electric ability. Maybe you were thinking, oh so he’s like electric eels? (Which actually aren’t eels! They are a type of knife fish) no no, I am a perfectionist! I aim for accuracy and I also aim for the fun of science. While jellyfish cannot actually 🎵 shock you like a electric eel 🎶, jellyfish can SORT OF generate electricity.

Via a green gooey substance in the bells of jellyfish, scientists have discovered that by exposing it to ultraviolet light it produces electrons. Layman's terms? SOLAR POWERED GOO. While jellyfish have not harnessed the solar goo, scientists have actually found a way of using it to make a new form of green electricity!

So while Sun isn't electric the way an electric eel is, he still has a way of using electricity to make him a pretty powerful lil taser. Enough to put something smaller than him in a cardiac arrest, and give something his size or bigger a good reason to scamper off.

SOLAR POWERED SUN!

Which leads to my finishing notes.

While sun uses his zapper stuff quite a bit, he does have a regular sting too. While relatively less lethal than his zapping for bigger creatures, it does function as a paralytic! For smaller creatures it’s Uh…. Its a lil more dangerous. Good thing neoprene is sting proof haha.

And I had something else…

I recently posted a magma with Sunny sleeping.

This is based around the jellyfish that scientist found out sleep, Cassiopeia.

They are usually just chilling like that, bell down. Looking at them like this it really makes you think about how closely related they are to sea anemones huh? Lil freaks.

Sometime soon I’ll post a eclipse version of this, which I’m excited about because I love sharks SO MUCH.

[callmewrinkles3]

Peace - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: After their whistle stop trip to Perth it’s time for the next race in Baku. A photo causes issues, and Em sees something she shouldn’t have spotted.

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: Zak Brown, mentions of food issues (lack of appetite, not eating, what could be considered picky eating), media being assholes, panic attacks, mentions of mental health issues.

A/N: We’re baaaaaaccccckkkk! Sorry for the delay, we’ve been ridiculously busy. But in our defence, this is a monster chapter. We’re sticking with 2022 for the next while.

June 2022

“I have a couple of apartments.”

Em half woke to Dan’s words. She hadn’t really been asleep on the shorter flight from Dubai to Baku. Instead she’d been half dozing with her Beats playing music. London was clutched in her hand while she curled against Dan’s side. There’d been a plane swap and something else but their fancy seats were swapped into a row of three economy ones. Honestly if she was asked she preferred being able to curl up like this on a plane. His arm was around her and she got to chill out with him beside her.

“What do you mean?”

“For London. The city, not the bear I mean. If you still want to move in together?” He turned the tablet towards her to show an option. Three bedrooms, a view, in one of the parts of London they’d shortlisted. It looked nearly too good to be true.

“Talk when we get to the hotel? But yeah. I want to move in with you properly.”

They were two of the first into Baku for the race which meant that instead of going immediately into a bright orange race world Em got to unwind for a night. Dan brought her to an Italian restaurant for dinner and they held hands in public. They went back to the hotel room and curled up in bed before Dan asked her a question.

“So with the apartment thing. I’m looking at places for us to buy, not rent.”

“Danny…” She trailed off and looked at him, at the way he smiled at her.

“I didn’t tell you this. It was supposed to be a surprise. But I got the email the day before you arrived in Melbourne and it didn’t feel right to say it then. I dunno if you remember but do you remember when we were in Austin in 2019? We were in bed and you were talking about how much you like the city and you just trailed off and said it’d be a nice place to show kids.”

The vague memory hit her, the night after the race. When Dan had been jealous of her talking to Charles and Pierre and they went to the hotel. It had been emotional and she was still luxuriating that they’d said I love you a few weeks before.

“Yeah. Kind of?”

“I found a place. I was looking on and off since then but it had to be in delivery radius of that barbecue place we like. Your name’s on it too. I didn’t know if you were coming back or not but it’s our place. Bought, not rented. And if we don’t spend loads of time in Austin but we’ve got a place then we should buy somewhere in London. You don’t like Monaco that much. We just need to be there a bit for taxes and stuff. But we should buy somewhere. A home. Our home.”

“You bought us a place?” She couldn’t get over it. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. He bought them a home when she wasn’t even around.

“Yeah. It’s ours.”

“I love you so much. So, so much. And yeah. I want our home. A real home.”

“I’m getting you your lavender office. I promised you that I was going to get you a lavender office. It’s happening.”

She couldn’t stop grinning, holding onto Dan and sleeping well for the first time in weeks. It was restful at last.

Wednesday meant most people were arriving into the city and that included Blake and Michael. They hugged her tightly as soon as they saw her, both checking in through the day. There was still a divide between them and Dan. She could see the way they were with him. But that needed to wait, she couldn’t deal with all of it. Not now.

Most of the day was spent sitting with Blake and coming up with how she was coming back to work. She wanted to get back as quickly as she could, but Blake didn’t want to risk it for her. Which she understood. But she wanted to feel normal even when she felt like she was barely holding together. The other part of the day with Blake was having a conversation she never thought she’d need to have.

She had to make a plan about how her relationship was going to be made public.

Somehow she hadn’t been spotted much in Monaco, just a few gossip blogs which made life easier and harder. It was easier because at least it wasn’t a complete surprise that she was around. But it was harder because she hated having to do this. The fact that her and Dan were finally admitting that they love each other meant a PR response had to happen felt stupid. They were just two people in love. Why did the world care?

But it was clear that the world did care, the blog posts and TikToks and instagram posts about her were proof of that. The #WheresEm posts on TikTok from fans analysing photos of Dan, Michael, and Blake to see if she was in the background. The slideshows of her and other women who worked in F1. It was kind of surreal now that Blake was showing her.

“You’re in the paddock every week. You work in the sport. Netflix interviews you and every February people wonder if DTS is going to call you “Daniel’s girlfriend”. It happens.” Blake was apologetic as he opened a folder on his laptop called Tax Files.

“You told me that was taxes and that’s why it’s password protected.”

“Yeah, sorry. If you knew you’d have killed me.” She looked at the four PDFs held in the file. Dan_Em_dating, Dan_Em_engaged, Dan_Em_married, Dan_Em_baby. The last one cut like a knife.

“Seriously? Engaged and married? Statements for all of it?”

“It’s the two of you. I wrote them after you were in Vegas, there were rumours online for two months after that the two of you got secretly married. I thought it was better to be safe than sorry. For both of you. But this is the reactive ones in case someone posted photos or something. Right now I think you doing an insta post is enough, it’ll confirm but you don’t need to do details. Do you have any PG photos?”

Twenty minutes later a photo of her in Dan’s lap as he held her and gave her a kiss that was chosen to be the photo. Dan used his grid mostly for work related stuff so it was her account that would post it. The caption at least was her own decision. Thirty seconds of thought and she tapped it out. I know you know, but I love you to the moon and to Saturn. Once the draft was saved the schedule was set. Post it during FP1. It would be fine.

The plan mostly worked for Thursday. Her makeup was thick and Blake refused to let her work for longer than an hour of checking emails, but she walked into the paddock with her head held high. Friends nodded and gave her a smile, Carmen’s eyes widening slightly when she saw her and Em forced a grin. She was part of a team. She belonged her. She knew what she was doing. It would be fine and it was worth it.

Sitting in hospitality for the day Em refreshed one of the gossip instagram accounts she still followed, a photo of her talking to Blake appearing at the top of the grid. The caption made her huff.

She’s baaaaaaccccckkkkkk! Daniel Ricciardo’s assistant Em was seen back in the paddock. The rumour was that she was in Monaco but hiding in hospitality. She hasn’t been seen at a race since the Australian GP at the beginning of April, where she was seen with his parents and extended family. The duo were spotted in Perth for the weekend off last week, but they’ve never confirmed a relationship. Reminder: Em falls under our WAG rules because we don’t have confirmation if they are or aren’t in a relationship. No criticism of how she looks or what she’s wearing.

“What’s so funny?” Blake asked and she turned the screen to him.

“I’m kind of surprised how quickly people started sharing photos of me again. Am I really that impressive?”

“I think it’s more that you’ve been around for so long. Tomorrows probably going to be chaos with the post. You know that, right? You’ll get through it but there will definitely be questions.”

“I know. If we did this years ago it’d have been easier.”

Instead of a third iced latte that she’d asked for, Michael handed her an orange juice as lunch was brought over. He received a glare in its place.

“I thought I asked for a coffee?”

“And you’re vibrating in place. Eat something, Wriggle.”

The chopped salad in front of her was pretty but the idea of even touching it made her feel awful. Encouraging looks made her spear a couple of pieces of chicken that she could just about separate and eat them. At least playing with her food meant that it wasn’t noticed that she wasn’t really eating.

Dan was able to run in and grab food before going back to more team meetings. He pushed a kiss to the top of her head before raising an eyebrow at her bowl, but Em shook her head before he could speak. It was two or three minutes before he had to leave with Michael. Before he did he ran across to the coffee bar and plucked a lemon muffin from the stand to place in front of her. It was a smile and a squeeze of her hand before he had to go again.

She picked at the muffin and at her dinner that night before they were back in the hotel room together. Dan kept giving her looks to eat more but she was too worn out to eat. It was like her body was constantly waiting for the next crisis, coiled and ready to release adrenaline while she was begging it to relax. She needed to curl up with her boyfriend and be held by him. The day went well. People could tell they were truly in a relationship. Everything was public tomorrow. She could do it.

For the first time in years Em stressed about what to wear to the paddock the next morning. None of her clothes fit right and her usual style felt awkward. Normally she tried to blend in but this was the one day she shouldn’t have to. She wasn’t just Dan’s assistant anymore. People would keep caring about what she wore, working out what labels she had on and how much her outfit cost. It was so much stress that she didn’t want to deal with but Dan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

“Wear what makes you smile. You’ll be beautiful no matter what.”

“You’re a charmer.”

“And you need to eat something. I know it’s not your favourite but I got you a bacon sandwich with my breakfast. Try to eat some of it?”

“Just for you.”

The nerves thrummed through her body as she pulled on straight leg jeans and tightened her belt. Her outfit was finished with a Paramore tee that was at least a size too big and one of the merch hats Dan always had around, but she was clothed and felt good. She could do this. She could do it. Em even ate half of the sandwich Dan gave her despite the butterflies in her stomach trying to rebel.

Their plan for getting to the race was simple. The four of them were driving to the track together, Blake taking her usual role as driver. Dan and Michael were walking in five minutes before she and Blake did so they could take most of the attention away. Once he was in the car for FP1 she’d post the Instagram draft and hopefully someone would fuck up in practice so the “Daniel Ricciardo has a girlfriend” story would die down. It was a good plan that they could do.

When they arrived at the drivers car park they all stepped out of the car before Dan pulled her into a giant hug. It was nearly deserted in the early morning and she fell into him before sharing a kiss and a smile.

“That’s the last secret kiss we ever have to do. How does that feel?” Dan asked to make her grin.

“So no more hidden corners in dive bars?”

“I mean that’s a tradition so we have to have some more there, right? I love you. I’ll see you after practice.”

“I love you too. I think Blake is actually letting me work today so I’ll see you then.” They had one final kiss before Dan and Michael walked away while she and Blake stayed behind

“Just for the record, if you and Dan split up again I’m choosing you. You’re my little sister. I don’t want you to go anywhere else.”

“I learned my lesson, Blakey. I’ve no intention of going anywhere. I promise.”

Five minutes later they were walking through the paddock and Em ignored the eyes that were on her. It was a statement to be publicly there in the paddock, to be beside Blake while she wore a 3 hat. She wasn’t ashamed of herself or her love for Dan. She couldn’t be. They were in love and that was what mattered to her.

They sat in Dan’s driver room while Em went through yet more emails that she’d missed while she was gone. The practice stayed on tv and she let the familiar voices roll over her. With ten minutes left on the clock Blake gave her a nudge to post the photo with a smile.

“Ready to be a WAG?”

“Will I ever be? But I’ve basically been one for the last four years without the benefits.”

When she opened Instagram her notifications were already going insane. There were people mentioning her in comments and tagging her and she had to scroll back to see where it all stemmed from. But when she found one of the paddock photographers accounts and started to read the caption her blood ran cold.

Arriving into the paddock this morning ahead of Day One of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix I got to see possibly the rarest sight in Formula One - Daniel Ricciardo and his presumed girlfriend @callmewrinkles3 canoodling and revealing their romance. We don’t know a lot about Emma except that she’s English and has worked with Ricciardo since at least the summer break in 2019. Her first appearance at a race was Barcelona in 2018 where she hid in the back of the Red Bull garage. Most people have assumed that they’re together but they’ve never publicised anything. It’s clear from the photos how in love they are, but why have they never admitted anything before? She’s missed every race since the Australian GP and the rumour around the paddock was that they had split up. I think that can be safely ignored now.

“Blake. Fuck.” She held her phone out to Blake so he could see the post and watched as his face changed while reading. “One hour. One fucking hour.”

The comments began to fill her screen and she couldn’t help but read them.

They’re actually together? I thought that was a joke.

Why did she just disappear like that?

Dan deserves better than an assistant.

Who is she? Just appeared one day like she was always there.

Friends with bennies. There’s no way they’re dating. They’d have admitted it by now. Has to be some PR thing.

“Timmy? Em? Can you hear me?” The panic was rising through her chest as all her deepest fears were on screen. Dan deserved better. He deserved more than her. She’d ruined everything when she left she never should have come back. Why did she come back when she’d ruined things for him?

Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight, Em’s desperation filling her as Blake held on.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Deep breaths in and out.” Tears streamed down her face as she tried to copy his breathing. They were just one hour late to do it. One hour. But the one thing that they’d protected for so long and had been so careful with had been revealed to the world before either of them had the chance to do it. Outside the paddock they were supposed to be private citizens. That area was off limits, it wasn’t supposed to be where they could be photographed. Especially not by accredited ones.

“Why us? Why the fuck does this always happen to us?” It was all she could get out as she kept crying, Blake holding onto her tightly and rubbing her back. It wasn’t the same as when Dan or Grace did it but it helped as she tried to stop herself from spiralling. But Dan had his stupid briefing and then had to get ready for FP2 and she was barely going to see him. All she wanted was for him to tell her it was going to be ok. It wasn’t much to ask. Em lost track of time as she tried to pull all of her broken pieces together. She needed to get it together.

“I can get him out of his meeting. Want me to grab him now?”

“Please?” She felt pitiful with the tiny sound coming out of her mouth, but Blake left a kiss on her forehead before sitting her on the massage table and leaving the room.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? Just remember. You and him love each other so much somehow. A photo and internet trolls are never going to change what the two of you have. I promise you that TimTam.”

She didn’t know how long it took until Blake returned with Dan but she could feel the fragile parts of herself begin to move and crack again. Why would Dan want her to be there with him? She’d left once before and she should just leave again. Let everyone else be happy. She could make herself be happy without them eventually she thought. The world was acting like loving Dan was some awful thing, that she didn’t deserve to love him and she didn’t know how she could keep going with it. It wasn’t fair.

Her sobs started again and Em’s arms went around her knees to hold them against her chest. It was going to be ok. It was going to be fine. It had to be fine. She couldn’t be too loud or people would hear and that would be worse for Dan if his girlfriend was having a breakdown in his room. She shoved her hand against her mouth to muffle her sobs. She could be quiet. She had to be quiet.

“Emmy? I’m right here Wrinkles.”

“Danny.”

It felt so stupid. So fucking stupid. It was a photo that revealed news that they were about to share anyway, but they wanted to get to do it. It wasn’t up to anyone else to share it. Why did they think they could?

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Baby. You don’t deserve that and you never deserved have comments made about you like that. If you want to go home just tell me and you can, I’ll book the flights for you.”

The words hit her gut and she wanted to get sick. He wanted her to leave. Wanted her to go home.

She didn’t have a home anymore.

She destroyed their home and she was homeless and she had nothing left. It was all gone.

“I…I…We…We don’t have one. I don’t. I’m homeless. I got rid of it and Danny it’s gone and it’s my fault please don’t make me leave.” Her sobs began again as the reality of what she’d done hit her. She’d destroyed their home in a weekend. She was homeless. Michael had offered his spare room but she couldn’t. What had she done?

“No. Oh no, Emmy, no, I promise. I promise you’re not going anywhere if you don’t want to. I want you to stay here. I want to be here with you all the time. I’m right here and you’re staying with me I promise. I promise.”

She didn’t know how long he held onto her for but as her sobs subsided the embarrassment at how she acted filled her. It was all over a photo. This shouldn’t have happened because of a photo. But Dan held onto her and wiped her eyes while she stopped crying, emotionally and physically exhausted with red and puffy eyes. Her foundation was entirely gone but Dan smiled at her like she lit up the universe.

“For the record I hate saying this but we have thirty minutes until Dan needs to be in the car. And I might have a solution. Maybe.” Em twisted in Dan’s lap to look at Blake as he began to explain. Nat from Sky was willing to be outside to ‘run into’ Dan and do a softball interview for him to explain everything.

“Do it.” He hadn’t even finished speaking when Em cut across, making herself stand up on shaky legs and stretching while still holding his hand.

“Emmy…”

“Danny, do it. You get to get ahead of it and say something about how everyone knew. Act like it’s just stupid gossip. And then you can drive and ignore it, yeah?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

She wiped her face on one of the towels that was supposed to be for after Dan’s practice before nodding at him. Dan stood up and pulled her close, holding his lips against her forehead in silence. They were desperate to stay as close as possible for as long as they could until Blake tapped her shoulder.

“She’ll be downstairs in thirty seconds, it’s live.”

“Go.” It was a kiss to make Dan leave and Em sat down to get her makeup out of her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching from the garage. So I’m making myself look vaguely presentable.”

Her fingers were shaking as she started pulling concealer and foundation out. The tv was already tuned to the Sky feed and when she heard Natalie’s voice her attention went straight to it.

“And look who we have here! Daniel Ricciardo was heading over to his garage but agreed to talk to me for a moment. You’ve had all of the attention on you thanks to that Instagram post everyone’s seen about your relationship.” It was open and warm and Em bit her lip while she watched.

“Yeah. It’s funny, we never thought we needed to announce that we were together because everyone knew. You were talking to Em at the AusGP opening yourself. It didn’t make sense to do some big thing when everyone already knew. But now here we are, I guess. At least that’s better news than my driving in that practice. We’ve got a couple of upgrades that we’re trying to learn how they work with this car, so we’ll see how they perform in this practice.”

The way he was so casual about it made Em smile while she finished her concealer and patted it down. It wasn’t anywhere near good but it’d do, and her sunglasses would hide the worst of it.

“Ready?” She asked Blake. He nodded once and followed her across. It was the first time she’d stood in the garage to watch him drive since she and Dan had their fight in Jeddah and he sent her away, but she walked out with her head held high. Dan was standing at the bottom of the stairs to wait for her and held out his hand, Em smiling at him.

“You look beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He did better in that practice than the morning one but Em stood there silently. Blake had a hand at her back to keep her steady on her feet, orange headphones glued to her head. She hated the colour. Hated this garage. She wished it felt like home the way Renault had by the end. But she could do this. It was just an hour, and she could see when the cameras caught her and she waved. A small smile stayed on her face as she stared at Dan’s little orange dot on the screen.

She waited for him to get out and they held hands walking to hospitality for food before Dan had to go to more meetings. It was a luxury to hold his and and get to see him as her boyfriend. People stopped to ask for his autograph and take photos and she stepped back to let the photo be taken. One of the girls came up to her after getting the photo.

“I’m sorry about that photo for you. You deserved better than that for how your relationship was made public.”

“Thanks a lot.” It meant more than she could say that a stranger was being nice to her.

That night after yet more picking at food and trying to decide what she could stomach she curled up in Dan’s arms while he pressed kisses to her head. She didn’t know what to do or how exactly she was feeling, but that background anxiety was still there.

“Can I ask you something?” Dan whispered in the dark. It wasn’t too late so she nodded against his chest. “I know you probably don’t want to. But maybe we should find you someone to talk to? You’re not ok, Baby. It’s ok to need some help for a little while.”

“My dad always said that it was weak to need it. That if I couldn’t get through things then I needed to try harder.” The words slipped out before she meant to say it.

“You know I talked to someone last year after Monaco. I think it’s strong to admit that you need some help. It’s such a brave thing to do. It’s up to you but I think it could help.”

It was silent between them for a few minutes before Em could speak. “I think I need some help. Can you help me find someone who does it online?”

“I’ll be right beside you for all of it. I promise.”

“I know.”

Even admitting that she needed to talk to someone took some of the weight off her shoulders. There was something deep inside her that just felt broken and unable to put itself back together. She was freaking out about tiny things. That photo shouldn’t have made her feel this way. The entire Monaco weekend shouldn’t have affected her like that. She’d seen Dan crash before - she’d been in the garage when he crashed in Austria two years before - and the Monaco one wasn’t a big one. But it hurt her in ways she didn’t realise.

Em had never put herself first in her life. It was always everyone else. But this time she needed to put herself at the top of the list or she’d lose herself forever.

The trip to the track was quiet before practice and qualifying. Blake had made the decision that she wasn’t working until at least Austria. And it felt right if she was really honest. The fact that she didn’t want to fight about working proved to her just how necessary it was. Instead she sat in hospitality trading between cups of coffee and juices or water. Michael kept putting big bowls of food in front of her and she couldn’t bear to eat any of it. It was all mixed together and weird textures and the fish curry he tried to get her to eat made her feel disgusting. It was sweet that he tried but no. She could pick out bites when she needed to.

Over what was officially the lunch break but everyone was spending working she flicked through a crappy romance novel on her kindle when movement caught her eye. The teams had all come in and grabbed food before going back to the garage to get the cars ready for setup or do whatever they had to do. Blake was with Dan and Michael before Dan went to a fanzine event. She promised she’d be ok sitting there by herself. Em was convinced that they’d gotten people to keep an eye on her too, but she’d be fine. She could do this.

It was the two men walking through the barely quarter full room that caught her eye but the accent was what really hit her. Zak Brown talking to an Australian wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that it was Mark Webber and not her boyfriend. Webber. Who managed last years F2 champion who didn’t have a seat. And Brown had been making comments about Dan’s performances needing to improve.

Oh no.

She always trusted her gut. Always. Her gut had yelled at her to not walk away in Melbourne, that it felt wrong, but she ignored it and look how things ended up? Her gut is what made her talk to Dan at Blake’s party nearly five years before. It made her kiss him and fall for him. Helped him make the decision to go to Renault. It was the right thing to do.

And she didn’t trust Brown. Not after the rumours and innuendo and the way her reputation took coordinated hit after hit last year. He had no reason to talk to Webber. Mark had never been in McLaren before, it was just wrong. She knew. Her gut was screaming at her, she knew. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could start freaking out and worrying she saw Dan arrive in with the boys, a girl in her late teens with them. Em smiled as they came over, Dan kissing her cheek.

“Em, this is Rebecca. She flew out here for the race from England. I met her at the fanzone. She wanted me to give you something but I thought she could do it herself.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” Em looked at the girl who had a sheepish smile on her face before holding out a small bracelet.

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you too. I saw all the media stuff yesterday and it was awful. I’m sorry people made such a big deal about your relationship like that. I don’t get it. But I make bracelets when I’m anxious and I had beads with me so I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Em stared at the multicoloured beads and grinned. It said FEA in the middle, patterns of blue, purple, and pink beats surrounding it. It was perfect.

“This is gorgeous. Thank you so much. And thanks for being so kind. Do you want me to take a photo of you and Dan in here?”

“Actually could I get one with you? Feel free to say no. I know it might be weird. But you and Britta and Angela make me think that maybe I could work in motorsport? I’m not good at engineering or anything like that. But maybe I could do something else.” She blushed but Em just smiled, moving her bag with London sticking out of the top so she could sit in.

“Sit in here and we can take one. Just don’t put it online? I haven’t been well, I don’t want people seeing it.”

“Oh no! No way. I just want proof this happened, you know? Thank you so much for this.”

Em watched her leave with Blake, a grin on her face and her new Paddock Club lanyard was wrapped around her neck so she could watch qualifying and the race tomorrow in style. Em slipped her FEA bracelet onto her wrist beside her enchante one, the two comforting on her wrist.

“Sorry for springing this on you. She went to give it to me, said “This is for Em, could you give it to her? There’s loads of people supporting her and she should know that.” I thought you’d want to know.”

“She’s lovely. And that means so much. But what do you mean supporting me?”

Dan opened twitter and she went to groan but instead he showed her a hashtag. #Demma4ever was trending under motorsport. She wanted to groan when she first saw it but the one thing she realised was everyone was so sweet. People unsurprised they were together. People defending them from trolls. People defending her specifically from trolls. A twitter thread from someone calling themselves @cowboydan3 who had traced their relationship since 2018 by pointing out all the times they seemed to be together. It warmed her heart.

“All these people? But they’ve never even met me.”

“Not all of them. But there’s people who did at different events and talked about how you were nice to them. Fans who you pointed out to me so I could say hi and take a photo. People who say I’m in a better mood when you’re around. Yeah there’s trolls and bullshit, but most people have gotten to know the real you. They like you, Baby.”

“Yeah. They do. When’s qualifying?” She needed to not talk about it or she’d cry in public again. She couldn’t cry again.

“Thirty minutes. You gonna watch from here or the garage?”

“The garage?”

She stood beside Blake and watched as Dan was knocked out in Q2. The only piece of justice was Lando also got eliminated, so it wasn’t a “Daniel isn’t performing” kind of day. He had two overtakes to make to get into the points. He could do that. That was definitely something that could happen.

Standing in the paddock she spotted Lance and knew she had an opportunity to get some information. When she waved he made a beeline for her, offering a hug that she gave lightly thanks to the sweaty nomex.

“Sorry about your quali, I know it’s not what you wanted. How are you?”

“We’ll get there. I’m doing ok, how’re you? Especially after everything.”

“I’ll be ok. Unexpected, but I’ll be fine. I had a question for you actually!” She kept her smile fixed and hoped her nerves weren’t showing. “Has Esteban said anything to you about what Oscar is doing while he’s looking for a seat? I know he’s Alpine’s reserve this year.”

“No, nothing. We don’t tend to talk about much work stuff. Unless Alonso’s annoyed him. Then he’ll go on a rant but I ignore it. Dan was the only teammate that Esteban really got on with. But no. Why?”

“You know Dan. Young Australian who came to Europe alone too young, plus we got to know Oscar as a Renault junior in 2020. He wanted to check in but Rossi won’t let him anywhere near Alpine so it’s hard to do it.” He laughed before Lance’s osteo, Henry, came to get him for something.

“If I hear anything I’ll tell you. The latest rumour I heard is possibly a Williams seat. Nicky doesn’t think he’ll keep his seat which sucks.”

“Yeah it does, he’s a good one. Thanks Lance, good luck for tomorrow.”

Everyone knew the rumours about the Williams seat being available. The main rumour Em had heard was that it was a Williams junior who’d get it, there were a couple of prospects in F2 depending on how the season went. Fuck. This was real. It was real and all Em wanted to do was curl up and sob but she couldn’t. She had to walk through the paddock and find Blake to talk to him, and then talk to Dan about it.

As she began to walk back to the meeting rooms Em spotted Ted Kravitz, giving him a wave and a nod as she walked past.

“And of course that’s Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend walking past. It’s so nice to get to call her his girlfriend, you know that? Everyone’s known for a long time, back when he was at Renault, which of course is now Alpine, she was known for getting a card for everyone for their birthday. It was probably the worst kept secret in this paddock.”

Getting Blake into Dan’s driver room was easy and she put Fearless on through speakers to muffle their voices. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have anywhere near the rest of McLaren but she didn’t have a choice.

“What’s going on, Timmy? Please tell me you’re not leaving again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She fixed him with a glare. “But we need to talk and it needs to be private. Nobody can overhear. What do you know about Mark Webber and how his career ended?”

“He was fed up of F1. I was barely in Red Bull when he was leaving, but he was done and everyone knew about it. Dan was nearly pulled up mid season. Why?”

“He had a meeting with Brown today. I watched them leave Brown’s office just beside the cafeteria. Neither of them realised I was there, the cafeteria was basically empty. But they were there for a long time and we’ve both heard him talk about Dan’s performance.”

“Ems, no. No way. Dan has eighteen months left.” She shook her head and watched Blake’s face carefully as she spoke.

“Dan has a twenty five million dollar contract break clause. He’s working himself to the bone for this team and I’m pretty sure that Piastri is going to be in his car next year. I just…maybe I’m wrong. But when has my gut ever been wrong on this? I know this Blakey. I know it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I mean I wasn’t in the room but what other reason is there for the two of them to have a closed door meeting in between practice and qualifying on a Grand Prix weekend?”

“None. Fuck. But are you really, really sure? Seriously.”

“If my mental health wasn’t in the toilet you’d believe me immediately, right?” A sheepish nod. “I know you probably don’t trust me. I don’t trust me about me sometimes right now. I’m hanging on by a thread. But this is Dan’s career, and the one thing I have always done is put his career before anything else. You know that’s what I do. I wouldn’t say this based on anything else. You know that.”

“I know. I know.” I didn’t think they’d fucking do this. I didn’t think they’d do more to hurt him after last year.”

They agreed to keep it to themselves for now, that Em would tell Dan that night. She didn’t want to mention it before the race but he deserved to know. Part of her brain was blaming herself for it. If she hadn’t left then maybe Imola would have been better and the races wouldn’t have been a mess. But she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t change the past.

There was a sponsor gala on that she hadn’t realised was even happening, but she was his official plus one to everything. At least she’d learned to always bring a dress to wear to any fancy event with her. It was the same one she’d worn in Melbourne to the race weekend opening but she didn’t care. The dress was looser than the last time she’d worn it, the corset top hanging rather than snug against her chest and waist. Instead of heels she put on ballet flats and did her makeup perfectly. She could get through this. For Dan.

Being on his arm as his girlfriend was a completely different experience to being there with him as his assistant. She smiled and made small talk with people who actually listened to her because of that title change instead of ignoring her. But finally they were face to face with Brown and his wife. Em kept the smile on her face and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you back, Emma. We were worried about you. Dan didn’t tell us what was happening.”

“That’s because I asked him not to tell anyone. I was ill for a while, we wanted to make sure that I’d be ok before we let anyone know.” It was the same story they’d told everyone in the paddock who’d asked and he paled slightly at it. Worth every minute of not telling the full truth.

Finally they sat down for the dinner and Em stared at the plate placed in front of her. It was all traditional Azerbaijani food, but the worst part was that it was all baked together. There was nothing separate and she could tell from moving her fork through it that the textures were going to be impossible for her. Her stupid food thing and she was going to embarrass Dan if she didn’t eat anything and she couldn’t. She got some meat on her fork and lifted it to her lips, nibbling. It was tasty. But trying to swallow more than the tiniest bite felt impossible.

“You ok?” Dan whispered and Em nodded.

“I didn’t know this was the food.”

“Blake and Michael both checked there’d be food for you. We can just go back to the hotel. You need to eat something.”

“We can’t leave.”

“I’m not letting my girlfriend starve. Not with everything happening Em. You need food.”

“We can’t.” She took a breath and a sip of water, squeezing his thigh. “I’m not that hungry and I can get food when we’re back at the hotel. I’ll drink water. But listen to me. There’s something weird going on right now at McLaren and you can’t leave. You just can’t. I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get back. Just trust me?”

“I always trust you, Emmy. Promise you’ll tell me?” She could hear the worry in his voice but she just nodded, keeping her face smiling like he’d said something hilarious.

“I promise. Pinkie swear.”

A waiter came by about her full plate but Dan stepped in.

“She’s on a medical diet at the moment. We were told there’d be a special plate put aside.”

“Oh, we’re sorry. There’s none.”

She stayed by his side while they did the rounds to talk to people and sit through speeches. Dan’s hand stayed in the small of her back as she nodded and smiled and kept her mouth shut unless it was something she was confident about. Food was the last thing she wanted to deal with when they got back to the hotel. She wanted to go to bed and forget about the day, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead they got in the same car as Lando to get back to the hotel.

“I mean I get why they didn’t give options but do they not realise picky eaters exist? It was kinda alright but I’d have liked a heads up! What about you, Em? Did you like the food?”

“Didn’t have much, medical diet.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’re back now. He was a mopey git while you weren’t travelling.”

Em knew it was just the younger man’s turn of phrase but she kept a tight hold of Dan’s hand to make sure he knew she was there. Thankfully it was a quiet drive back to the hotel. All the Hiltons in the world felt the same after a year of being sponsored by them. Walk in, hotel reception on the left, lifts around the corner and beside a vending machine. They shared the lift with Lando who waved as he stepped off on his floor. Em kept a hold of Dan’s arm until they were inside his room and he pulled her into a hug.

It wasn’t until she’d ordered room service and it was delivered that she was willing to speak. Once she had this conversation she knew she wouldn’t eat for the rest of the night. Then Dan would get annoyed and it would hurt more than it could ever help and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. So instead Em took a couple of bites of chicken teriyaki while mulling over how to say the words that she knew would devastate her boyfriend.

“When I was in hospitality between practice and qualifying I sat in the corner so nobody spotted me. I didn’t realise that I could see Zak’s office. Mark Webber came out of a long meeting in there shaking Zak’s hand and they left together about five minutes before you came in.”

It was silent in the room until Dan let out a long sigh. He slowly lay back on the bed, his head hitting the mattress. Em watched as he took deep breaths before undoing his bow tie and the top button of his shirt.

“On Saturday night in Monaco, just before I got you from Aston Martin, Andreas called me into his office. He told me that my seat is at risk if I don’t perform better. Fuck. Fuck!” He whisper yelled the last word and sat up while rubbing his face. “I didn’t want to worry you, that’s why I didn’t tell you what he said. You were so fucking fragile Baby. I couldn’t. You still are. I thought it was just a warning.”

“Is it because I left?” The words hung in the air for a moment and she wanted to get sick. Fuck. Fuck all of it. She left and Dan struggled and now he was going to lose his seat and it was all her fault how could she have done that to him?”

“No, no. No Baby. I promise you it’s not because you left.” He pulled his suit jacket off while coming over to pull her into his arms and push a kiss to her head. “I just can’t make the car work. It steers weird and the braking doesn’t work the same was as any other car I’ve ever driven. You being here makes it easier to clear my head when I’m not stuck in the car. But you made me promise in Spa that day to have a clear head before I get in the car. I swear, I clear my mind every single time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I couldn’t. You just came back and I was so scared you’d leave again. If I told you you’d blame yourself and leave. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She held his face with her fingers and looked up at him. “You were right not to say anything then. I was barely thinking then. I still barely am. I couldn’t hear it.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you. I love you, you did the right thing, Danny. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. If he said that on Wednesday I might have walked away. But I’m not finished. I think I have more left in me.”

She lay on the bed and pulled Dan into her. Getting changed out of her dress was too much work, he needed to be loved and held and cared for. Tears began rolling down his face as she clung to him, her fingers carding through his curls.

“Remember when we were in lockdown on the farm? I promised you when you were deciding if you were going to leave Renault then that I wasn’t going anywhere. The colour you wear on race week isn’t going to change my mind about that. I said it then and I’m saying it now and I mean every word of it. I love you so much and not being together nearly killed both of us. You can learn to be a mechanic and a househusband with our unicorns.” A wet laugh bubbled out of his chest as her words settled into him and she kept talking.

“We can have our barn with our horses and our kids like we talked about. I don’t care about going and working in some office. We can have breakfast for dinner and lunch and breakfast. Pancakes three times a day, yeah?”

“I thought you hate my cooking?”

“I like your breakfasts. And I love you. I don’t love the Honey Badger. I don’t love DannyRic. I love my Danny. You’re the man who taught me that love can be a good thing. Yeah it hurts sometimes but it’s worth it. I want my life with you, whether that’s F1 or endurance or Indycar or anything else. I want you, Baby. I’m going to follow you to the end of the world. Do you hear me? Whatever you want to do next. I’m going to be holding your hand and right there by your side. Wherever you want to go. I promise.” Her voice was low as he sobbed into her dress. He’d held her as she sobbed the week before and it was her turn now. He was her boy and she wasn’t leaving him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you so much, Baby.” She stayed there holding him as he cried himself to sleep and then just stared at him for hours. Dan needed to get it all out. He’d been holding it in since she left and he needed to cry. Em held him and ran her fingers through his hair and watched as he finally fell into some kind of a restful sleep.

It was another disturbed night for her but she woke to banging on the hotel room door, Dan turning his head into her to get away from it.

“One minute, Baby. Lemme get it.” She squeezed his shoulder before answering the door. Michael was on the other side, his face changing when he saw her attire.

“Dan’s meant to be at breakfast, what’s going on? Why are you…?” He trailed off and indicated to her outfit.

“It was a bad night. Order something for Dan for breakfast, we’ll be down in fifteen. Order me some toast please? Just toast, and if they’ve got smooth peanut butter some of that too. Otherwise plain toast.”

“Can you make it ten?” If she was honest she didn’t think she could make it in fifteen, but ten was definitely out of the question.”

“Fifteen. We’ll be down.”

Getting Dan up and changed was hard but she did it, putting on yet another merch tee and carrying a bag he gave her. Everything screamed “I’m Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend” and she didn’t care that it did. She needed to be his to the world. Em was broken and battered and in pain, but her Danny needed her. So she was standing beside him and staring down the world while holding his hand and supporting him because that was what he needed. She could do this.

Walking into breakfast the mood at the table was quiet. They all ate something, Dan swapping the bowl of yogurt and granola at her place for his egg white omelette.

“Mate that was-“

“Em doesn’t eat mixed up food. And she doesn’t eat granola because of the texture. At least this way she’s eating something. When have you ever seen her eat granola?” Michael shushed at Dan’s words, at the clear tension in both of their shoulders. She picked at the omelette before passing more than half of it back to Dan. He was the one racing. He needed to eat. The fucking race.

Arriving to the paddock had her heart in her throat. This was race day. The big event. There were cameras about to be on her and as little as she wanted to see them she knew it had to happen. Sitting in the back of the car Dan looked across at her.

“You can wait for me to go through. I don’t mind.”

“I’m going inside holding your hand. I’m a wag now, i have to act the part. Right?” He grinned at her but the smile didn’t reach his eyes this time.

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Her pass scanned easily and let her through the turnstiles as the photographers at the entrance got a picture of Dan waiting for her while holding his hand out. She ignored the loud shouts and just focused on moving forward one step at a time. Dan’s hand was a comforting weight in hers as she kept one foot going in front of the other.

“Emma! Dan! Over here!” The calls were coming from each side but her sunglasses hid her worry. Instead they made it to the FIA building before someone else arrived and attention was taken away from them. It was a relief and she was able to relax a little bit. Race mornings were always hectic and she kissed Dan goodbye before sitting in front of McLaren with a coffee to watch the paddock go by.

“Is this seat taken?” She turned and saw Carmen asking, smiling and gesturing for the younger woman to sit down. They’d texted once or twice, given each other cafe recommendations for London and chatted when they saw each other in the paddock. “Welcome to the official ‘I’m dating a Formula One driver’ group. How’re you doing with the media attention?”

“It’s a lot.” Carmen knew what it was like, Em was able to be as honest as possible with her. “I mean I had it anyway because of work and all the speculation. But this is different. Plus I haven’t been around so yeah, it’s a lot. Hopefully it’ll die down.”

“It will. It’s bad the first couple of races but then it’ll relax because you’re there most weekends. You’ll be fine. I just wanted to check in because I know you were sick. Are you feeling better?”

The nerves and worry and fear from the night before were coming back in full force but she bit her tongue and nodded until she was ready to speak. “It’s gonna take time. But I’m getting there.”

“If you want to talk about it I’m here. I get the going from being in the normal world and then diving in here. Or if you want to get food or a coffee. Lily will be in Silverstone for Alex’s home race. We’re both going to get food the Thursday before. You’re welcome to come for dinner with us as just the girls.”

“Maybe? Dan’s parents are in Europe, they’ll be in England then. Plus we’re trying to find somewhere to live. It’s a whole thing.”

“The offer is there. Especially race weeks if you have time away from work. If I don’t see you later I’ll see you in Montreal? Susie asked if I knew if you were going. She said to say thanks about that restaurant in Melbourne, Jack loved it.”

“Tell her she’s welcome. And yeah, I’ll be in Montreal but it depends how I feel? I’m still doing a slow return to work so we’ll see how it goes.”

She watched Carmen walk away as her hair shone in the sun, effortlessly walking around the paddock like a model. Would she ever get to that stage? She could do it when Dan was at Renault, but most of that was because she blended into everyone when she wore the Renault shirts. It was different now.

Her spot outside hospitality meant that she could people watch while she did some googling. Searches for online therapy turned to hybrid therapy and finding someone she could see in person when she was in London. One therapist had open slots so she booked an initial appointment online. The time difference would suck while she was in Montreal but it was worth it. She needed this. She needed to work through the pain and the grief and the heartbreak she felt over the last few months because Dan needed her and she needed to keep him together.

She went to lunch with the boys and Dan before standing in the back of the garage and kissing the side of his helmet before he got into the car to bring it out to the grid.

“Go fast and be safe, ok?” She looked into his eyes, visor still up. “I love you no matter what happens. I promise.”

A squeeze of her hands was everything Dan needed to do to show his love and she stood in her spot in the garage just waiting. Her pass gave her grid access but she never went up there. Going on the grid felt like she’d be a distraction.

Watching Dan cross the line in P6 made her grin, hugging Blake close. She knew it wasn’t enough. Something in her knew that anything short of a race win wouldn’t be enough. But he beat Lando and that was what she really cared about. She would get to walk out of the paddock holding Dan’s hand, and the next morning they were flying straight to Montreal to have a couple of days together before the chaos of the next race began.

She could do this. She could do it. She wasn’t going to break. She was going to make sure that she kept going forward. For her, and for Dan.

Taglist: @dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

[haveyouheardthispodcast]

Propaganda and description below the cut:

A paranormal and true crime podcast. The hosts are a big part of what make this so different from other podcasts in the same genre. Hosted by Em (they/them) and Christine (she/her) you get their great research and the stories, but you also get to listen to them grow as people - figuring out themselves, hearing their personal stories, their banter and humor growing with them as they get educated through their own stories and through the fans who listen. They're a funny and lovable duo, full of love for just about everyone, and they care about the things they talk about. Their earlier episodes are good, they did draw in an audience after all, but the.. immaturity, i guess, can be a turn off to some. But their show, their stories, their banter, their personal journey's, are all really worth the wait in my opinion. I've been listening to them since their first year and they're like my extended queer family. Fruit and all.

〰

Murder and the paranormal finally meet! Grab your wine and milkshakes and join us every Sunday for some chilling ghost stories and downright terrifying true crime stories. The world's a scary place. And that's why we drink!

[littlegeecko]

Thoughts on Carl x Flynn?

EEEEEHHEHFOEAOEODJFDJABSODNJEHBEHJ!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUMPS UP AN DOWN AT MAXIMUM VELOCITY sorry anyways

This is gonna be a long one so buckle up! some spoilers for METAPHOR, BENEFITS, Jenna's good ending and parts of Flynn's route

You already kno thats my shit fr fr lmao

But if i had to go in depth about em, i would point out many things, such as the way that both pretty much sway with each other effortlessly, their interactions feel natural and nice, and granted, theres no hanging tension on them compared to Flynn and everyone else in this fucking group.I think thats moreso a side effect to Carl being so chill tho, you just...vibe with him.

I think first and foremost they're good friends, and that's what they really need in a fucked up place such as Echo, people they can trust and be with without much conflict and be themselves, hell, Flynn states multiple times that Carl is the one thing keeping him sane in this town and giving him a reason to keep going on about his life there, and i dont doubt Carl feels the same by the way he reacts to Flynn possibly leaving (and he even steps up and says he'll go back to Pueblo after they escape Echo, promising to bring Flynn with him. So its not about "Stay here with me" like someone, it's "Anywhere as long you're there")

I can totally understand how people can see their relationship as platonic considering Flynn shows mannerisms with Carl that he shared with Sydney when young, and the fact it's implied Flynn and Syd viewed each other as brothers, but i think that's just how Flynn is; a protector, making sure the people he cares about are alright to the best of his abilities regardless of how fucked up the situation might be, keeping his head high and levered so the others can hang on to him- with some exceptions, of course.

Do I think they make a good couple? i believe yes!

Their presonalities could seem clashing for some but they make it work very well, and they attend each other's weaknesses, such as Flynn helping Carl on his anxiety an depression to the best of his abilities, and Carl allowing Flynn to open up about what's on his mind and being there for him when he needs him the most, and defending him given the chance, no strings attached. Those are their sore spots as characters, and they just make it work without it seeming toxic or one-sided, at least for me

They already have good chemistry as friends, and theres a growing feeling there if you pay attention to the small little things on almost each route when it comes to them, blink and u miss it type stuff, until u get to Flynn's route and its straight up longing for each other: Carl shows jealousy for Flynn talking about Chase and what transpired between em, but he doesn't intervene (Perhaps his own low self-steem?) because he still cares for Flynn's happiness. And Flynn on the other hand is looking for a meaningful emotional relationship, and literally all the interactions he has with both Chase and Leo are turbulent and bring in a new layer of issues to the friend group, this doesn't happen with Carl, he even says he's happy to have this loser around- wishes he could sit beside him in Leo's van- and even indirectly asks him about his feelings about him ("If this wasn't real...is there anything you want to tell to not-real me?")

LIKE YOU TWO ARE SO DOWN FOR EACH OTHER IT MAKES YOU BOTH LOOK STUPID!!! and the part where they talk in Flynn's room??? JENNA'S REACTION? CARL'S REACTION??!??!?! you won't see me shutting up about it. The fact characters keep interrupting them on those moments is just so telling

and man if i had to go in depth about Flynn's route when it comes to Carl uguhhhhhhuhuuhufhdsjfsj rips my hair out

But yea, i love them as a couple, they bounce off each other and vibe together so well, and i think they can both help each other become the best versions of themselves once they leave Echo, together. Thats why i like Jenna's Good ending so much, at least there, theres a promise of them actually getting to that point in their relationship, and living together comfortably (like the waffle house scene....im obsessed, ill never be the same...)

Extra notes!

The fact Flynn fell for Carl despite him not fitting the type of guys he likes to bang just tells me he's genuinely interested in him for his feelings, personality and the way Carl treats him

AND I MIGHT JUST BE INSANEEEE BUT AFTER WATCHING METAPHOR? FLYNN GIFTING CARL A LIGHTER THAT WORKS JUST FINE ITS LIKEEEEEEE HMMMMM EEEEHEHEHEHHE YOU KNOWWWW

Carl caring MORE about Flynn leaving than him possibly having something with Chase because he feels thats how he could genuinely loose him guughhhhhgugh

AND THE WAY FLYNN IS THE ONE COMFORTING HIM IN THE JENNA ROUTE AND CARL HUGS HIM TIGHTER WHEN THEY JOKE ABOUT THEM GETTING MARRIED LIKE ??????EEEEHEHEHEH

I wish they kissed at least once womp

[ashipiko]

11!

AIIII HEYHEY!!!!! <3 you gave me like the best one from this batch I’ve been MEANING to draw this for a while HAHAHA

LIST

11. Is there a character your OC sees as a sibling?

I THINK THEYRE SO FUNNY. I DONT TALK ABOUT EM ENOUGH TBH? LEONA BEING LILE THE OLDER BROTHER THAT AAAALWAYS SPOILS ASHI and ashi the pretty pink princess 😭😭 they’re so like. hanging out in botanical gardens w ashi drawing and leona just sleeping 🫶🫶 very chill

BUT ALSO LIKE…… IN THE SPOILING PART OF THEIR DYNAMIC ashi can literally be like “oh I’m saur hungry” or “so cold……” and leona will be like “gotchu. hey ruggie” ANF ITS SO FUNNY?? THEYRE NOT BEATING THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF NRC ALLEGATIONS FR. not to mention ashi has like protection w leona 😭😭 you do NOT mess w her unless you WANT savanaclaw to get atcha

🫶 as a final note leona teases ashi about ace being her knight in shining armor and he’s the person she talks most about her crush to!!!! THEYRE REALLY CUTE. SIBLINGS FR

[mysticarts]

silly little ROTTMNT OC CHALLENGE!

(PART 1)

So, while searching deep below in my old sketch books, I found old concept designs of my ROTTMNT oc designs......

MAN THEY WHERE TRASH!

So, I'm redesigning each of my ocs. I have their personalities, passions, and their vices so they can have proper chararer development

But also this was a chance to expand on my own drawing style. As each one of my ROTTMNT where different species of mutants, so with this, I can create ocs with different body types and ethnicities!

So enough of me talking, let me show you the redesign!

Beatrix "Trixie" Amarin

Trixie here is a Siamease fighting fish, or a beeta fish for short. There's a variety of colors when it comes to these fish, so finding out Trixie's color palette will take a while

Due to one of the most common places Beeta fish live are in Thailand! So I made Trixie's nationality Thai!

Trixie absolutely loves song and dance. And I can assure you that most likely, Trixie is a heathers/Hamilton kid, she loves musicals

For Trixie, family is very important to her. It dosent even have to be blood related. If you treat Trixie well she considers you her family.

Trixie is a team player, she's at her best when she works with others. Even if she has a short temper, and dosent realize when she's being too rough, she cares

MYSTIC WEAPONS/POWERS

For Trixie's weapon, I wanted to give her a weapon that made sense with her culture. Then I landed on Sickles. Mostly for two reasons: With Mystic powers, her Sickles can be like a scythe AND she could use em like how Melonie uses sickles in hades 2.

Trixie found her Mystic weapons by swimming. She was deep underwater, just chilling out until she found those Sickles hiding in the sand. Trixie took the Sickles with her cause she needed some for farming, and Trixie likes things free

As for powers, I was stuck between water manipulation or Telekinesis. So I just gave her both until I decide which one is better for Trixie as a charater.

Victoria 'Vee' Igwe!

Vee here, is a fruit bat mutant! She was originally a human, but those pesky bugs made her turn into a fruit bat mutant. Luckily Vee did find those gadgets that make mutants look like humans. Vee holds onto that gadget with her life.

Vee always tries to help others, in any way possible. She does it willingly, and Vee doesn't even know why she does it either. However due to Vee's good nature, she does end up to be a bit of a doormat.

Vee is African! I made her African for two reasons: CAUSE I CAN, but also Fruit bat's are common in Africa!

Oddly enough, Vee is a very empathetic person. She's always in mind of others, and tries to think of solutions while thinking how it would effect others.

As for Vee's personality, she's kind of like Wendy from Gravity falls! Very laid back and energetic, but has a good heart.

Vee has an eye for things that others most don't see. She's basically really observant, noticing others actions and overanalyzing them. She usually uses this talent of her's to try and connect with others

Before Vee became a Fruit bat mutant, she was studying to become a therapist. She was also studying phsycology aswell. That's how Vee got her powers of observation

MYSTIC POWERS/WEAPONS

Vee's weapon is a polerarm! Like the ones in genshin impact, that kind of weapon! Vee originally got the weapon as a gift from her parents, who are scientests.

Shadow control is the Mystic power that came along with the Polerarm that Vee was gifted. When I say shadow control, I mean kinda like Macaque from lego monkie kid where Vee can hide in shadows, pop her head out of them, and use them as transportation.

Unlike the others, Vee was gifted her Mystic power before she got zapped into a mutant, so she has a little more experience on her own powers.

Anyways, part 2 will be out once I got my motivation back! Feel free to ask questions about either of Trixie or Vee. I'd like to talk about em more

[matrixxsystem]

Terrapin Soup Part 6 (1/2)

Leo hadn't been sneaking out anymore like he'd been for the past year, after his date with Usagi he started going to his house maybe twice a month but actually telling his family where he was going and checking in on occasion once he was there safely, or well. To better phrase it they'd hang out that often, sometimes they'd be in his house and other times they'd be around the hidden city as Usagi showed him around and they told each other stories of their epic battles. It'd only been maybe two months since their "first" date when they finally had enough free time to have Usagi over. Since usually one or the other had things or Leos family was doing other things it was hard to get everyone together for a night.

"Alright, I'll portal you over later tonight okay? Oh and don't mind the sewer smell, I mean Donnie made some upgrades to the vents and filters in the lair so it shouldn't smell but if it does just ignore it-" "Leo.." "And I mean you know Mikey's gonna try to hug you again right, like a lot, and he's really nosey, I mean they all are but Mikey's the most out of em so you can just push him off or tell him to stop he wont be offended by it." "Leo." "And so is dad now that I think about it- He's probably gonna act all tough and mean but he means well, oh and April might be there? She's like our best friend slash honorary sister and she's human but she's really chill so-"  "Leo-!" Usagi grabbed Leos hands gently pulling him closer, "It's alright, really, you don't have to explain anything. I'm sure I'll have a wonderful time and we'll all get along just fine. Now, you go do what you need to and I'll be here when you get back. Okay?" Leo's expression softened hearing Usagi's reassurance, he was way too good for him... "Okay.. Okay you're right. I'll text you before I come back to get you."  "Mhmm, I'll see you later then. Be safe." "You too." Leo pulled a sword from off his back opening a portal but felt a fluffy hand on his wrist before he was able to pass though. Leo turned to face Usagi, tilting his head to the side a little wondering why he was stopped. "Did I forget somethin-" He did in fact. He forgot a goodbye kiss, which Usagi suddenly (as in just now on a whim) deemed essential to their plans. He pulled Leo closer kissing his cheek, still trying not to be too forward and let go once he was satisfied. 

"Now you may leave." "I-I uh... I" Looks like he broke Leo, congrats.  Usagi chuckled and gently pushed against his plastron leading him to the portal, "Don't overthink it, though I hope you'll return the gesture when I go home tonight?" Leo could only nod as he stepped though the portal backwards, the bright blue obscuring his vision as he crossed, and once it disappeared it left him in the hallway in front of his room. Mikey peeked into the hallway having spotting the blue light that wasn't usually there. "Leo's back!!" He called, followed by a small stampede of his brothers coming to invade his privacy as per usual. 

Leo stood frozen, his face still stuck in it's flustered expression as his brothers asked him a million questions which he heard none of as his mind was far too occupied with thoughts like; 

Did that really just happen? How long had he been wanting to do that?

Should I have done it back?

What if he goes to kiss me next time not on the cheek?

What if I wanna kiss him not on the cheek?? I mean I do anyway but like should I ask, would he be okay with that?  Oh god what my first kiss kiss is bad? Has Usagi had his first kiss yet??

"Leo??" "-What?" Donnie rolled his eyes as he finally managed to snap Leo from his thoughts after calling his name several times and tapping a fingers against his head as if to see if anyone was home up there. "We were talking to you Nardo. How'd it go?" "O-Oh.. Right. I uh.." He smiled softly glancing back to the wrist Usagi had grabbed to stop him, "It was good, really good. He'll be here tonight." Donnie nodded, typing something onto his wrist tech, possibly texting someone or giving a new command to SHELLDON, whatever it was it didn't really interest Leo to ask. He instead gently pushed past his brothers and headed towards the kitchen, "Hey do we have anymore soda left?" "There's just that orange Crush stash Mikey think's we don't know about behind the fridge"

"Hey-!" "That'll do, I need somethin' fizzy"

-_-_-_-

The night rolled around as normally as it could get between four mutant turtles living under New York city. Leo was a little more anxious then he'd been recently but his brothers (Raph mainly) reassured him that everything would go fine, and that everyone had agreed to be on their best behavior for Leo tonight. And once April arrived everything was falling into place, Mikey started cooking with Raph there to supervise while Donnie went and hid in his lab most likely seeing to any last minute upgrades to make the lair that much more presentable. April managed to corner Leo in the uncomfortable privacy of his own room and demand answers.  Donnie however was not holed away seeing to the lairs maintenance, maybe he had been up until a moment ago but now he was much more occupied with the recording device he'd installed a while back, wanting to test out the new higher quality recording tech. And let's be honest he was never one to exactly care who's privacy he was invading when it came to his tech. Leo was already a perfect test subject so he selected the blue icon from his end and waiting for the audio to come in. Him and April were having some sort of talk about Leo's day. "Ooo and then what happened?" "He uh, well I was about to go home but then he pulled me back from the portal." "For what?" "..W-Well.. He um.." "Well..? ..Oh.. Oh! Leo did he kiss you?" "I mean- Yeah but it was only-" "Ohmigosh! That's adorable! Hold on hold on let me get my phone so I can capture this moment! Okay, tell me everything!" 

Donnie turned the app off not wanting to hear about those kinda of things, he'd rather Leo tell that himself and even if he didn't exactly care he was smart enough to know when he shouldn't eavesdrop on a private conversation. He let out a little sigh and pushing himself away from his work space, spinning the chair around to face the other wall lined in another set of monitors. "Let's see.. Ventilations good, the security systems doing well.. There's... Hm.. That's-" Donnie scooted his chair forward more to inspect the words running across several screens. "Maybe.. I should get Raph." Back at the kitchen Mikey and Raph we're.. Not arguing (They most defiantly were) about what kind of food to make. "Mikey look my phone says that rabbits eat hay, they're vegetarians, it doesn't say nothin' about meat!" "He ate the pizza puffs and those has peperoni in them! And he said they were great! He's a yokai and they don't eat only what the animal parts eat y'know!" "Well why can't we just stick to what the internet says? We've got a bunch of fruits and veggies we can use!" "We're omnivores Raph I'm not gonna take the easy out and make a fruit salad for the seven of us! We have to have more variety!"

"Go ask Leo then he eats with him all the time- So much for my help" Mikey rolled his eyes and gently patted Raph's shell, "You tried and I appreciate that, we'll do part of your idea at least, but we can't have just hay and salads that's not balanced. I'll be right back, why don't you pick out some viggies and start washin em off okay? I'll go find Leo and ask."

"..Yeah okay."

Mikey left the kitchen and headed for Leos room, barging in without a second thought and interrupting Leo and Aprils chat. "Hey Leo what does Usagi eat?" Leo tensed up hearing the sudden question, quickly looking over to Mikey with a confused expression, "W-What do you mean?" "Like for dinner, what do you think he'd like? Raph says rabbits are vegan and eat hay but yokai aren't the same as the animals they're mutated from right?"  "..O-Oh! Right! No no, he's not vegan or anything, I guess... I don't know what he'd like, I think he'd be willing to try anything really. He's not really picky or anything that I know of." "Maybe he'd like some turtle~?" April said with a laugh, gently nudging Leos arm despite his tense reaction. Mikey's eyes lit up at her implication and she smiled more as she gave a nod confirming Mikey's assumptions. "Okay okay" Leo said rolling his eyes, "Enough about this, you go cook, I should finish cleaning up around here" -_-_-_-

Mikey and April had left Leo to finish making the corners of the lair presentable since he was excited to show him around, he didn't clean much since it wasn't that bad with SHELLDON doing most of the cleaning but there were a few things he figured could use a bit of touching up like his growing piles of empty pizza boxes and comic books. After he was content with his work he got his phone out asking if Usagi was ready to be brought over and then texting his siblings as well letting them know he was going to get Usagi soon. Everything was good so Leo opened a portal and stepped through, when he looked around he realized the hidden city didn't exactly have a sunset, the sky was just the ground above them so it made sense but it was still a bit sad to think about.. Leo shook the thought from his mind as he approached the house, knocking on the door and taking a step back to wait. After a moment the door opened but he was a bit surprised to see someone beside Usagi answer. It was an older Lion yokai, grey hairs just starting to peek though his mane. He looked.. Not mad but not really kind either. Stoic was a good word. "O-Oh, hi um. I'm here for- Usagi!" He smiled as he saw him a few feet behind the man trying to make himself taller to see better. "Ah Leo!" "So this is him?" The lion asked, turning back to Usagi. If he was a bit younger the deep tone of his voice might've been attractive- Nope. no no no let's not go there, don't sexualize your boyfriends adoptive dad. Usagi nodded, his eyes glancing to Leo then back to his teacher, "Mhmm, the one I had dinner with not long ago. He's been.. Very good company. I'd like to keep him around." 

Leo tilted his head a little, not really able to hear what they were talking about, but after another moment he turned back to face Leo. Looking him up and down like he didn't really approve but then stepped aside to let Usagi out. "Don't be gone long. We have things to do tomorrow." "Of course, I'll be home later tonight." "And you, kame. Hurt him, or keep him from his duties, and I will eat you." Leo tensed up but nodded, "I- Of course sir. Though I wouldn't be very filling, you'd have to fatten me up first haha" Leo tired to joke but he didn't seem phased by it.. He pulled his sword back out opening the portal and giving him a small wave anyway. But not to the lair, instead when they stepped through they were at the top of the New York Times building. Part 6.2

Part 1

TS Master Post

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE JIROU HEADCANONS

She'd be the most laid back and most chill yandere you'll ever meet and that, my friends, is actually a BLESSING

Jirou might fall in love with you because of your outstanding personality. Either it might be similar to hers or it might be sweet and innocent and angelic that she finds too cute 

She's a self aware yandere. Soon after she meets and you and gets to know you more, she'll develop some crazy feelings of obsession and possessiveness towards you and she knows that her feelings are spiraling out of control and she's going delusional but she can't help admire how you laugh, talk, smile etc.

She'll write songs for you and she might be shy singing them for you and she'll get even more flustered if you praise her singing. Like, she'll go all red like someone squeezed a bunch of tomatoes in her face 

She will CERTAINLY defend you from perverts like Denki and Mineta. She thinks that they're just annoying pests coming in the way of the love of her life and when her little songbird (aka you) is in danger, what sort of hero is she going to be if she can't protect you from people like them? 

She's gonna stab 'em in all sorts of places with her ear phone jacks till they beg for mercy and promise to not ever glance at your direction EVER AGAIN. They might start avoiding you like the plague 

Soon, its going to be your friends too. She's a manipulative person and she wants to be the ONLY person you'll depend on when it comes to support, be it emotionally or physically. She'll try isolating you from your friends and they'll start avoiding you unless they want to face the wrath of her stabbing them where the sun doesn't shine 

Will occasionally give you little gifts like bracelets and necklaces and chokers and earphones. She thinks you look very cute when you wear stuff that she gives you, however she's not going to force you to change your personality. She just wants you to be yourself and honestly, that's what made her fall in love with you in the FIRST place

If you get any scars from training, she's gonna give you worried glances in the girls's locker room and her worst fears are coming true. Someone HURT YOU! They'll have HELL to pay. Even if you don't bother telling her, she'll find out anyway and go on a killing spree that'll make Toga PROUD 

She knows how RECKELSS you are when it comes to saving people. True she knows all about your personality, that you're capable and strong of defending yourself, but there's going to be one day where going to be very seriously and gravely injured and she won't be able to do anything about it. As much as she admires that part of you, she also wants you to quit aiming to be a pro hero so she can just take care of you and prevent you from getting hurt 

When she kidnaps you, she's gonna restrain you by tying you with ropes to a soft bed (Don't worry, the ropes won't be TOO uncomfortable or tight) She understand how you feel and she knows that you're gonna be scared and angry since she kidnapped you and all but you'll calm down eventually and learn to adjust to your new home or she'll MAKE you 

When it comes to punishments, as much as she wants to punish you, she just CAN'T. Even though she'll be stoic and hard at love and all , she just can't bring herself to hurt YOU, the darling, the light and love of her life. She lets you get away with ANYTHING, and yes, I MEAN ANYTHING, except for your freedom 

She might not be the most patient yandere on the block and if your drive her over the edge and finally make her snap, oh boy... you better start praying since no one else is gonna do it for you 

When it comes to aftercare after punishments, she'll treat you like a god/goddess that needs to be worshipped. She'll make you comfy, play some soft music, or make you listen to some smooth relaxing jazz (Lol, I really LOVE relaxing jazz. I prefer saxophone since it's just smooth asf) and give you your favorite food 

She won't get jealous when you talk to other people. However she WILL get jealous if you focus your attention on someone else and ignore her and she'll be a fuming volcano inside, plotting how many ways she can murder and kill that person for taking your attention away for so long 

She will let you go out. She knows how lonely you might get and so after she gets you a puppy/kitten or favorite animal of your choice, she will let you go out. Just to the backyard of course, since she's STILL wary and sus of you and you need to earn her trust if you ACTUALLY want to step out of the house. Just behave like a good girl/boy and she'll trust you in NO TIME, but if you break her trust, she'll be angry and devastated. Why did you try escaping? She's giving you everything you've wanted! You didn't even have to work for it and she's doing ALL this for YOU! It'll be very hard and time consuming to gain back her trust since she'll be suspicious for a LOOOOONG time 

If you're good, there is a possibility that she MIGHT (NOTICE!!!: I said MIGHT) consider taking you out to a park or something, not before she makes you promise that you'll stick by her side like fondue glue no matter WHAT. She doesn't want people taking you away from her and she's worried that she might lose you 

Overall, on a scale of 1-10, I'd rate her a 1 since she ain't so bad. Life actually might be interesting with her, I mean... cool playlists and punk styled things and cool goth like clothes.... It might actually be fun :) Lol, just jokin'

''My little songbird, don't be so sad... I'm doing this all for you. Even though you don't want to see my face right now, just know that I'll always love you and you will too. Even if I have to FORCE you~"

[slashingdisneypasta]

So I clearly missed some things due to my severe lack of activeness on this hellsite (derogatory) but I'd very much like to know more about Then He Got Rough if you feel comfortable sharing.

If not though, that's totally okay!! Either way, hope you're doing well, my friend 💜🙏🏻

!!!! Thats my Original Work!! I occasionally mention it on here, but I do need to be quite careful about what I say cuz theirs a lotta stuff in it that is meant to be a surprise XD But goddddddddddddddd I love talking about it, so thank you for asking!! ^^

Basically it is a small town murder mystery, but using Slasher Movie Tropes. Its also got a lotta platonic love and other more complicated kinds of relationships because I'm, of course, aro and I need that shit XD Here's a basic blurb I made up for someone else who asked one time ^^

Hallie (the virgin) meets Edward Brown (the killer) and they hit it off- she's exactly the kinda girl he likes; friendly, kinda reserved, and they have... err- certain things from their pasts... in common, it turns out. And to her, Edward's the perfect guy, too! He's a young English teacher at the high school and he's got this skinny Clark Kent thing about him?? Awkward, and funny. She doesn't realise he's a part of the little town's most powerful (and tight-lipped) family, the Bamford's (He was adopted into it- Edward Bamford-Brown), until she tells her best friend and roommate Maggie (the whore) about him. Maggie immediately develops a bad taste in her mouth when it comes to Edward. She goes rogue and decides to investigate, employing Hallie's family doctor, Arthur (the scholar), and his old friend/new roommate combo; anxious ex-con Rodney (the fool), who just so happens to be Edwards adoptive aunt Carla Bamford's ex husband. Doors are opened for Maggie into the world of the Bamford's through Arthur and Rodney, and Winnie Bamford (the athlete) later on, and she uncovers some bone chilling secrets about everyone in this family, and everyone a r o u n d them, too, that make her determined to save her friend before its too late.

**You might also be interested to know that, in my head, Rodney (Who is a very charismatic, but very anxious man who used to do some pretty bad things but feels terrible (he knows his behaviour had everything to do with self-loathing) is really truly trying to clean up his act these days post-divorce; rooming with his old friend Arthur and working at the grocery store as its the only job he could get) is played by a more middle-aged Robert Englund XDD (Closer to Professor Wexler in Urban Legend then Inkubus) . Arthur is played by Brad Dourif XDD (so yes- freddy kruger and chucky XD Of course.)

Some little tid-bits I can/want to share also:

The Bamford Family Line-Up:

Mrs Emily Bamford: The matriarch. A cold-hearted snake woman. She pretty much only loves Edward.

Mayor Richard Bamford: He and Em were highschool sweethearts back in the day but broke up when he left to pursue politics in a big city-- but mysteriously came back and married Emily a few months later despite everyone knowing he was doing so well in the city?? Took the Bamford name and everything. Its rumoured that Emily's parents blackmailed him *cough*. Everyone knows Emily is in charge. Richard always looks kind of like a show pony next to her, despite being actual Mayor.

Carla Bamford: Emily's adopted sister and town journalist. She's kinda lily-livered. The only thing she really stood against the family about was her marriage to Rodney (They didn't approve. He was a damn con), but even that fell apart eventually.

Rodney Hawk (Formally Bamford. They made him take their name but he's got his back, now): I already talked about him XD

Edward Bamford-Brown: THE MAIN VILLAIN. Edward is Emily and Richard's adopted son, the same age as their biological daughter (Winnie. up next) who... well, its no secret- is the favourite. Emily would let him get away with anything. She would help him get away with anything. He can do no wrong, in her eyes.

Winnie Bamford: Emily and Richard's biological daughter. She's an insane freak- they sent her away to boarding school in Georgia but she came back worse, and there are s o many rumours about her in town; Orgies and deviant sexual activity, mostly (most of it is true, too). She has a major thing for 'Uncle Rodney' and makes him very very uncomfortable. On the bright side though?? She's more then happy to fuck things up for her spiteful mother by assisting Maggie to uncover some dark secrets (: She wont make it easy, though 😅 That would be no fun.

Unnamed Bamford Family Member: I cant tell you anything about them, whoops.

And Tom Manning: Richard's best friend, and the town lawyer (Edwards lawyer). So close with Rich and Em (And Winnie and Edward) that he's practically part of the family. I have described him as 'a hot dill pickle in a sharp suit if he was a harvard law graduate'. He's slimy, charismatic and seemingly perfect.

Here are the main characters Looks, if you're interested 😅

(Also another little thing that is really just a convoluted blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of inside joke- Maggie, who has a huge thing for Arthur and constantly describes his eyes as 'brad dourif-blue', is a major Childs Play fan.

... and hallie loves a nightmare on elm street *cough*. she doesnt really interact with rodney, but during the few times they do, they totally have Something. and when she describes her perfect guy?? its the opposite to edward. its rodney. anyway- )

Anyway, thank you for asking! And reading, if you made it this far XDD Sorry for the word-vomit!! I just really really love this story and I really hope one day I can finish it ^^ <3<3<3<3<3<3

I hope you are doing well too- better then before at least ^^ I hope the time away from Tumblr is doing you well! You're right, it can be a very harmful atmosphere and I'm so proud of you for knowing when you need to take a step back!! 💛💛💛💛💛

[spacemanxpaninis]

Pippin

Being in a group project

Swearing/Cursing

Gale

Playing card games

Waiting for a long time

Marc Spector(WOOF any of them)

Acting/pretending to act a certain way

Being in a party.

Karlach

Being in a group project

Waiting for a long time

How the FUCK did I never answer this I am so sorry 😭 bro this was so fun though thank you for asking omg

Pippin

1- He genuinely wants to carry his weight even if it doesn't seem like it. Being neurodivergent his focus only tethers to very specific things, but Let! Him! Work! On! Those! Things! He is so dedicated and will get so attached to his group he'll want to seem them all succeed just cuz he likes em. Unless they're dicks then he ain't doin SHIT or he's doing his part so good while they helplessly flounder at the rest.

2- Most of the fandom would probably see him as the guy who curses whenever no big deal, cuz he's the silly goofy guy they wanna get high and chill with. But in reality he still has this wholesome youthful innocence around him that thinks it's wrong or just, you know, wrong for him because mama said no! He's not a rough guy! But he always laughs when other people do it and would probably only actually curse when he was quoting something or really upset.

Gale

1- Twirls cards around in his hands, occasionally dropping them, especially if the nature of the game does not depend on total secrecy of one’s hand. If the game involves guessing identities or any sort of counter-effect cards, prepare for a triumphant, dramatic ‘ha ha!’ from the wizard. Drily smiles as he calls out cheaters who think no one is clever enough to catch them, but oh, how he could sense it. Rolls dice in the air with magic just to make a fun sparkly little display of things.

2- Someone save Gale, he forgot his books! Why didn’t he slip a tome in his bag? Ah, well, good things come to those who wait, right? Heh, yes indeed! He can practice things and reflect while he stands and how has only four minutes passed?

Marc

1- Marc has built a life, a living, on carefully constructed facades. It’s why he’s so concerned when Steven begins to cut through- not only does he want to keep his alter safe, but his own whole life’s work. Never let them see when they’ve hurt you. They’ll just know what works best. Words like that echo through his mind as he wears a face of stone, swiftly blinking away tears before they can cut to the corners of his eyes. Weaknesses are weapons.

2- Get him out of that crowd. If he didn’t have to be there he could just be having a drink on his own right now, but there he was, brushed by bodies on one too many sides. At least this time they’re dancing. Alive and well and happy. That thought brings a wry smile to his face, that and the way a passerby claps him on the back like an old friend. How long has it been since someone has greeted him that way?

Karlach

1- Can she build a diorama or a model? Please? Hands-on is this girl’s specialty over writing and stiff presentations and besides, anyone can do that stuff anyway! Well, in actuality she is quite happy to present because talking to people is fun and that’s basically just what presenting is anyway, right? What’s the big deal? Sure, she’ll be the one that talks, too, sign her up! Fuck all those people who won’t do their share. This is her team now and she doesn’t let her team sink.

2- IDLE. DANCING. IDLE FUCKING DANCING. Boredom kicks in, but Karlach kicks harder. Say, that’s a good idea. How high can she kick? Oh wait, public location. Back to grooving. What? She’s got moves.

[woofs-silly-ships]

🧡Intro!💜

“There’s a million gruesome ways to die! (why stay alive?) And I’m sure your death will be second to none!!”

Ello there! This is my silly little selfship side blog to just share my f/os and gush about em! I follow and like from @woofwoofs14 , so if ya see that, that’s me :D

This post is REALLY FREAKING LONG, so I’m putting it under a cut for convenience!

Please read if you plan on following me or scrolling my blog for a bit!! Contains basic info, my f/o list, boundaries, DNI and thin ice, and my other blogs!

If you don’t want to read it all thennn:

- I’m a minor

- no I do not support Viv or even like non-AU Hazbin/helluva

- doubles are fine

- proship dni

The basics: I’m Woof, she/they/it, and a minor!! Chill with adults interacting but just don’t randomly DM me and don’t be creepy! I have diagnosed Anxiety and am looking to get an ADHD diagnosis (I’m literally certain I have it lol). My main blog is Woofwoofs14, I follow and like from there! Oh and more dni below, but… PROSHIP DNI PLEASE!!!

/imp note about F/Os!!: All but one of my F/Os are adults, and the oc I use to ship with them is an adult as well!! The one that isn’t is Ic-0n, who is canonically ageless but I hc her as being 16 due to her crush on Max, a 15 y/o. Therefore, the oc I use to selfship with her in particular is 16 as well :D! I’m a minor as well so this is fine!

Stance on doubles?: I’m polyamorous and don’t really care about doubles anyway, so I would actually love for you to interact if we share a romantic or platonic f/o!! If you’re not cool with doubles and we share an f/o, you can either block the emoji combo tag found on my f/o list, or just block me entirely. Whatever you feel most comfortable with :D! I do have boundaries when it comes to ships ya bring up around me tho:

Ship boundaries: the vast, vast majority of ships with my f/os I’m totally chill with and some I even ship myself! There are a few that make me really uncomfortable tho, so please just don’t bring these up around me and maybe don’t follow me if your blog purely centers around these ships! VoxV@l aka st@ticmoth is a huge freaking no, idc how much of it is canon or not, I don’t even selfship in canon anyway, it genuinely hurts me seeing my f/o in a relationship with an abuser. Joke or silly/stupid Marware is totally fine, because canon is already stupid enough for that to work lol, plus I love some good enemies to lovers! I’d just rather not see funny Italian plumber smooching tv man if yall get that lol, idk it just feels weird to me due to like personal headcanons and stuff, sorry!! Ribbun is another iffy one, jokes are fine but once again personal hc (gangle is lesbian grrrr) and with how Jax treats her in the show… I’d just prefer not to be bombarded by it ig. Demencia and Flug are adopted siblings to me so I’d say the same goes for that. I’ve got nothing against any of these ships (other than VoxV@l ofc…) but just personal discomfort ig!! If ya wanna talk ships, VorBee is ofc polyamory with me so that’s perfect, same with Applestatic, Radiosilence (one sided Vox x al) is canon in my AU so heck yeah, same with (don’t think it has a name but) one sided Radioapple, one sided Dem x BH is also canon and awesome (I like one sided ships ok lol-)!

F/O list?: Romantic List , working on platonic list!

Hazbin/Helluva…really?: I purely find comfort in the characters and world of the hellaverse, that’s it. I freaking hate vivziepop and will never support her, and I selfship in an AU version of the hellaverse that fixes a lot of the major issues (I’m still working on it but trust me guys). Genuinely speaking, I consider myself a part of the fandom but NOT a fan of either show. I like some fanworks, some characters with a lot of AU adjustments, and the general world. Nothing else.

💜DNI and Thin Ice🧡

Please do not interact with me if:

- you are a pedophile/MAP/support lolicon

- you are a Zoophile/support feral nsfw

- you are a proshipper/profic/etc

- you are homophobic/transphobic/biphobic/etc (this includes not supporting because of your religion!!)

- you are racist, antisemitic, anti Black Lives Matter, or support blue lives matter

- you are a neo-nazi/support nazis

- you ship any of the following: ZADR, Billdip.

These ships fall under proship!

- you're a hardcore Dream stan (personal comfort reasons, sorry! DSMP fans can interact tho!!)

- you're an anti-furry

- you're anti therian/fictionkin/otherkin

- you actively participate in cringe culture or bully people for harmless interests

- you support autism speaks

- you're a hardcore Trump supporter (personal comfort once again)

- you support/make YouTube "heat" content (gacha heat, emoji heat, Wildcraft heat, etc)

- you're into necrophilia, rape, abdl, ddlg, or ageplay

- you're anti age regression/pet regression (these are coping mechanisms, not kinks!)

- you are pro-ai/believe in the whole "Al is the future" crap

- you support any of the following (with reasoning below):

Vivziepop: Transphobic particularly against trans-mascs, anti-semitic and possibly racist. I am in the Hazbin/Helluva fandom but absolutely do NOT support Viv.

Tamakuz (Psychocuties creator): Lolicon enjoyer, supports Nazis, probably a proshipper

4lung: Pedo and Zoo

Nekozuna/Glitterpop/Samzel: Friend of 4lung, also a pedo

DrDisrespect: Pedo

SSSniperWolf: Doxxed Jacksfilms, steals content (here for personal comfort reasons mainly)

Emily Youcis (Alfred's playhouse creator): extreme Trump supporter, humped random people in a feral Alfred Alfer fursuit (I wish I was kidding), possibly supports necrophilia

Wilbur Soot: Abuser, I don’t know much about him but I’m already not a huge fan of DSMP so yeah please leave if you support him!!!

You may interact, but I will be wary if you if:

- you support Trump at all (hardcore supporters please DNI) (if you just always vote red, you're fine dw!)

- you sexualize object show characters (memes and jokes are fine, so is sfw shipping)

- you just refuse to use tone tags or the correct pronouns for some reason

- you are a big/hardcore Psychocuties fan (show is very proship-esc, Tamakuz is awful. Very very thin ice l'm sorry)

I'll probably add more later as I think of stuff!

💜Blog Directory🧡

@woofwoofs14 - Main blog, random stuff lol!

@adoptable-mayhem - I share adoptables over here, trying to get artists the recognition they deserve!

@woofs-pfp-emporium - My PFP blog, share a bunch of f2u fandom PFPs over there :D

@woofs-silly-ships - You’re here :D!

[needle-noggins]

Tell me about your OCs, Sav

And I mean all of them. Or else.

13, 28, 31, A, H

AAAAAH okay i'm gonna go slightly out of order to introduce whoever is reading this to my personal brain blorbos. Fair warning all of these are TTRPG characters, mostly my NPCs save for the first two!

A. Why are you excited about this character?

Fanny Paine - ohhhh my beloved Trigun cowgirl OC. I'm so excited to see how her backstory kicks her in the ass (and by backstory, I DO mean her childhood best friend-turned-EOM member Nova).

Sylvie - my tiefling phantom rogue!! She was a joy to play and an absolute bullet in combat. Lethal and impossible to hit. She also was part of the conflict, being a double agent for the big bad's Vecna cult. I spent so much time texting the DM in secret during our sessions as if the BBEG and Sylvie were sending letters back and forth, telling him our whereabouts, before he'd drop in some cult mooks and we'd knock 'em dead. So fun.

Brie - Shadow Sorcerer and Secret goddess of fire! She's from my first campaign but still relevant because I have two groups playing in that world. In one group we have a ranger who denounced his cult to the fire god, so it'll be really fun to reveal that his god is actually the half-elf barmaid they keep seeing in every tavern, and she's way more chill than he thought.

Iris and Humboldt - ah yes. My older (late 50s) human wizard/leader of the largest adventuring guild in my dnd world and her autistic gnome husband who.... looks like Jack Black in Jumanji and accidentally brought on the apocalypse in our first campaign. They're my light academia escapism blorbos now and all they do is sit around and study magic in the coolest city in my world.

Ron - New NPC the party adopted, and he's an amnesiac, kinda undead paladin with spore druid flavoring. The party recently discovered he's.... well, he's Oberon. Not sure how he got here, but the Warlock's patron is Titania. Of the summer court. Yeah, that one. One of the party's quests right now is to retrieve Ron's memories and return him to Titania, and maybe the warlock will get *her* husband back from the Feywild. However, some mysterious figures want Ron dead....

Oh fuck I could also talk about Keats, Tarovir, Vaemyx... AAH too many. But I'm gonna stick to these big ones, plus Tarovir and Vaemyx have massive spoilers for my players D:

H. What trait do you admire most?

Fanny - girl's got gut. She really is "shoot first, ask questions later."

Sylvie - Resilience? She almost died, admitted she had been a spy, and almost got killed by the party all in one day. And then her best friend, the only one who trusted her, died. Thank god she ended up happy.

Brie - she loves her friends and loves to have fun. She's chaotic good in the funniest ways. When I play her I just get to be stupid.

Iris and Humboldt - THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. SAVED EACH OTHER BACK TO BACK WHEN THE ALMOST DOOMED THE WORLD. Seriously, I rolled Iris' portent rolls and got an 18 and a 20 the day they summoned the BBEG. If it wasn't for that, Humboldt would have failed his death saves.

Ron - man look, he's just taking it day by day. He's very tired. But at least he has a lot of patience.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Fanny - she wears mostly browns but has a blue undershirt. She looks best in blue!

Sylvie - blue and silver coded. Looks best in black and dark blues.

Brie - wears cream and blues, would look great in green!

Iris and Humboldt - blues/silvers and browns respectively

Ron - this man is covered in dirt. Like he deserves.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Yes - Sylvie, Iris

No - Fanny, Brie, Humboldt, Ron (he can't lie, doesn't like lies - he's Fey after all)

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

Fanny - Charlie, her new friend who is an EOM reject. Fanny is a very protective momma bird.

Sylvie - her best friend, the elven druid Eldrid.... who died. It was really fucking sad, I miss that PC. They were in so many cahoots together.

Brie - the first party I ever DM'd, who adopted her <3

Iris and Humboldt - I could say each other, but really the party was the only reason they got together - they set them up on their first date!

Ron - He knows, like, 3 people.

[koukouture]

PGR characters as people you meet in high school

Lucia - The quiet kid who’s also really popular for some reason. She doesn’t seem talk to people that much but for some reason everyone seems to know and like her somehow. I don’t even think she knows most of their names

Lee - The robotics/gamer kid who somehow has an unreasonable amount of rizz Also one of the quiet ones. Ngl I feel like Gray Raven is just that quiet friend group who always does their own thing and eats lunch in the art room together or smth. Lee by all means seems like he’s be sort of a loser, but no, he’s got EVERYONE trying to tap his non existent ass. I have this type of friend, I have no idea why but they (yeah there are two of em) always pull the baddest bitches. It’s insane.

Liv - The shy and kind kid Liv is the kid that nobody makes fun of because if you did, you would have the entire school on your ass. She is that nice, and absolute angel. Though I feel like she’s also the quiet kid you should be scared of, most people are smart enough not to fuck with her but a few weren’t.

Chrome - The golden child/overachiever This man. He’s on the principal’s list, he’s got a bunch of scholarships lined up for him, multiple extracurriculars, plus he’s rich, nice, and hot. This is the kid that has EVERYTHING it’s insane. But he definitely deserves it, and he’s always willing to help with homework. Suffers from bad taste in men (Vonnegut) because from my experience, all the kids of this kind do. Like that is the only thing wrong with them, their romantic preferences.

Kamui - The class clown and gamer kid Ngl I think he would be made fun of, but he’s just such a nice guy honestly. Another member of the disciples of rizz, somehow always pulls some bad bitches. I feel like he would wear blatant anime merch and maybe those wolf hoodies tho. Also big ass headphones all the time. Sorry Kamui stans.

Camu - Gamer boy part 2 + gets in trouble a lot He also vapes in the washroom when skipping class. Really good at one subject, barely average in the rest. I want to say that he’s the hot Wattpad delinquent bad boy, but he’s a hardcore gamer so he doesn’t get that luxury. Skips school quite a bit, gets into a lot of fights. Yeah.

Wanshi - The kid who never shows up for class We all have that one friend who never shows up to school right? Yeah, that’s Wanshi. Except he probably shows up on test days or for big projects. He still passes tho. Textbook definition of really smart, just lazy.

Karenina - The loud girl that’s always got beef I don’t like her. She seems like that basic ass bitch who is actually always mad at everything and really mean to the guy she likes. But not in a cute way, just annoying. Decent grades, probably argues with the teacher tho. Yeah, we all know this kid right?

Bianca - The Christian white girl who has a rebellious phase later I don’t like Bianca either, but I feel like every textbook Lulu Lemon/Aritzia Christian white girl eventually goes through a rebellious phase or abandons religion completely. Source? I go to a Catholic private school. I know what I’m talking about.

Watanabe - The actual hot delinquent Sorry Camu, Watanabe gets to be the Wattpad boy. He’s just so cold around anyone that isn’t Gray Raven/Kamui that I think he’s just that kid. He’s not an asshole though, minds his own business most of the time but gets into a lot of fights. He’s also something like a big brother to everyone. Teachers hate him though. Also skips fairly often, but he’s always at parties. Mostly as the designated driver. To everyone’s surprise, he wants to be a teacher and that is what he goes and does after high school.

Luna - The popular girl with all the tea I just know Luna hears absolutely everything and uses it as black mail. She’s pretty chill and likeable most of the time though, hence why she’s so popular. Probably on the student council methinks. Pretty good grades too.

Alpha - The popular athletic kid She doesn’t strike me as a tomboy necessarily, just athletic. And gay as fuck. I don’t know what it is guys, I think it might be the Doc Martens. I feel like when she’s not doing sports she’s the cool alt girl everyone wishes they were. Gets into fights and always wins them. Surprisingly, she’s well likes by teachers because she’s pretty quiet in class.

Roland - The theatre/show choir kid You all saw this one coming from a mile away. I said show choir kid too because show choir kids are actually an entirely different breed of crazy. Like we nutty as fuck. (yes, I am a show choir kid, point and laugh guys) Super flamboyant and shows off a lot- worst part is it’s actually always really impressive. Doc Martens wearer number 2, probably made a shrine to Lin Manuel Miranda in the washroom as a joke once, or a Pedro Pascal one. Either or.

Might make a part two and a bonus round for my OCs, idk hope you liked these

[jaiyemourningstar91]

"Are you ok?" He asked him. The genuine sincerity in his otherwise, wise cracking voice touched his friend's heart.

Elis kept his face away from Adam's. He didn't want him to see the levees breaking on his visage. Eyes already developing truth filled tears.

"I'm good. Just chilling." He gave a white lie.

Adam knew it too. It sizzled away as he stepped up closer behind Elis. He usually wasn't the nurturing type. Often playfully bullied Eli whenever they were around each other. But, deep down, he cared very deeply for his friend. More so than he had for anyone outside his family. This meant something to Adam, who now placed his hands on either of Eli's shoulders, while the teary eyed lad looked on into the night sky.

"Nah," Adam dismissed, "I don't believe you. Something is wrong."

Elis chuckled with a sniffle, "Oh really? What makes you so sure, huh?"

Elis whipped his whole body around to face Adam's. His friend's face meets his, looking concerned. Quite the surprise for Elis, who while stunned from this, stepped back a step, leaning against the balcony wall. Adam had him pinned in more ways than one without even realizing it. Stepping up to Elis, Adam wouldn't remove his eyes from his own. He was transfixed on something. Never before had Elis seen just how brown Adam's irises were before. He felt them devouring him in the moment. Forgetting that time itself existed. Because of this, not realizing Adam was reaching out to his face with one of his hands.

"Because, you're crying. You never cry in front of me." Adam revealed, wiping away a tear from Elis' cheek.

The caring act snapped Elis back to reality. What was that? Adam couldn't be capable of such an action, Elis thought, baffled by it and blitzed by several questionable emotions all at once.

"I said I'm fine bro." He lied again, partially embarrassed, and turned away from Adam.

Adam's arm goes limp to his side and he felt at first he had done something wrong.

"What kind of friend are you, anyway? Huh? All you do is poke around at me like everyone else does." Elis lashed out of nowhere.

Adam could feel his heart skip, or something along those lines. Her couldn't quite pinpoint what those words made him feel. Whatever it was to him, it didn't feel good.

"C'mon man, we all roast each other. You're one of the bros, you know that. Besides, if you haven't noticed. I pick on you the least. Because-"

"Because what," Elis interrupted, sniffling again, "Because what, Adam!? Because I'm a 'girl'? Is that it?!"

Adam steps forward. When he does, Elis breathing shakes, he holds himself tight. In the same instance, a gentle rain begins to fall. The gentle breeze, causing the droplets to wet his already soaked face. Adam gulps, building up some confidence to breach the silence that's taken over awaiting his response.

"Well?" Elis speaks with a croaked voice.

"El, it ain't like that. You know it. You're my bro...You know how I see you. Always have that way. But like...I just wanted to check on you. After the bar. That guy. You just seemed so hurt. He had no business talking shit about you like that. So um, I decked em for ya, and came to check on you. Heh, nobody misgenders my little nugget goblin!" Adam exclaims with a cheeky thumbs up and grin.

Elis felt perturbed. How did he know about the bar incident? He turns to Adam slightly, just enough to see parts of his friend's leather jacket he gifted him last summer.

"Tch, you're an idiot. You know that. I can handle more than a few lazy bums. Been dealing with that shit most of my life." Elis responds, turning back around looking at the rain drops.

They mixed with more tears coming from his eyes. He hadn't stopped crying still. Adam finally fully approached and stood next to Elis. They both took a turn leaning on the rail, getting their heads wet by the light drizzle.

"I know you can hold your own, but that stuff pisses me off. Jayden told me what happened by the way."

Elis sighed, "Of course. He's a loose lip. I swear."

Adam grins, "You got people that care about you, is all."

When Adam says this, his stomach flutters again. This time, he believed he knew why. And the angst worried him. He leans back, standing up and stretching.

While rubbing the back of his spikey haired head, he says, "But uh, hey! Why don't we call it a night, ya? You need a ride home?"

"Someone is suddenly nervous." Elis says with a blunt tone.

Adam eyes widen. "Nah, just tired." He replies.

"Don't lie to me." Elis quickly retorts, now gazing up at Adam directly.

Adam seizes, but realizes he has to be cool. This isn't like him. So, he relaxes and stares back at Elis.

"Hypocrite." He simply states, referring to earlier.

"Hypocrite? Look, I-"

"Don't want anyone to be close to you. You know, you're something else sometimes. I mean, I get it, but like. How could you expect me not to care about you. We've been friends forever now. Had each other back's for years. Since grade school. When I ask if you're alright, it's because I want to know so I can help you or, or cheer you up. See what ass whip I gotta take out next. Like damn, El. You're not alone. I'm here all the time..." Adam pauses to catch his breath, not even seeing the starstruck look of the realization that Elis is giving him. "Anytime." He states, now feeling flustered.

Elis' big brown, leaking eyes finally capture his again. Adam realizes he might've said too much. Elis has never looked at him like this before. No one has ever glared at him in this way, ever. Captivated. Intrigued. Mesmerized. And as Elis shrinks his eyes, his whole face changes. He looks emotional, like he's just about to fully break. But, it's Adam to the rescue again.

Just as Elis shrieks out with a sharp cry, Adam scoops him up in a strong embrace. He sobs into that leather jacket hard, and all the while, his dearest friend Adam holds him, Elis' rubbing his head.

"Let it all out. I gotcha." Adam reassures, never once breaking his hold, with his heart racing inside his chest against Elis' ears.

Soon, that thrashing of his heart begins to soothe Elis. As he hears it, the sobbing settles. Adam takes notice, still not letting go. He just watches the rain, wondering why he doesn't want to let go. Sure, he's hugged his buddy before. Many countless times. Nonetheless, never like this. Adam has never held Elis so close to him in this manner before. As alien as it is to him, something just feels right about it.

"Adam..." Elis spoke out softly, his big watery eyes gleaming upwards at Adam's edgy, naked chin.

Adam didn't respond right away. Only kept staring out at the rainfall, lost in the sea of thoughts.

"Adam, hey." Elis earnestly reaches out.

Adam still doesn't answer. Too enamored by the possibilities of being more than friends. It's unexpectedly inviting and pleasant. New and refreshing. He makes a shallow grunt, as if he just got a lighting bulb sparking above his head. And then, that's when it happens. The most delicate peck against his lower cheek. A gentle, slightly moist kiss. Innocent and sweet. Shocking and stealing away all his attention. Slowly, Adam looks downward at Elis. Elis shyly looks away, a bit of blush forming on his pale face. The type of skin that shimmers in the dark as it's doing now before Adam's eyes.

"My-my bad bro...I-" Elis stammers, shying away and going to remove himself from Adam's embrace.

Adam refused to let him go. Pulling him back with little effort, as Elis finds himself letting Adam bring him back in willingly. Now back against his beating chest, he realizes just how firm it is. Elis and Adam would work out together often, he's seen his figure. Felt it too when throwing playful jabs at one another, but he's never touched him like this. Not to mention, kissing him. Unbelievable to Elis, but it happened, without a single regret.

As for Adam, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it initially, but soon it hit him. Just as he found it within himself to give one back of his own, he gently pulled Elis in. Kneeling down, pressing his lips with his. The kiss was moderately deep, not a full plunge, as it began hesitant, naturally given the circumstances. The two parted lips and both of them bashfully shared giggles.

"Uh, so, what does this mean?" Adam asked, bearing deep a gaze into Elis' eyes. Never has he seen them quite like this before.

Elis smirked before answering, "Can we just chill for now? Like this. I, I don't want you to let me go just yet."

Adam smiled warmly, rubbing his thumb gently over Elis' little stubble coming in. Counting the strands of hairs in his mind.

"I'll hold you as long as you want me to, El." Adam's voice was so calming to Elis.

The tears were finally dried. Elis gently nuzzled back into Adam's chest, and the two stood there watching the rainfall together. Both were unsure of what the future would bring, but in the moment, they felt secure, safe, and at home.