#i just. need to be able to live life again. even if that means bigger mobility aids or medications or shit

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Michael Tomasky at The New Republic:

I’ve had a lot of conversations since Tuesday revolving around the question of why Donald Trump won. The economy and inflation. Kamala Harris didn’t do this or that. Sexism and racism. The border. That trans-inmate ad that ran a jillion times. And so on. These conversations have usually proceeded along lines where people ask incredulously how a majority of voters could have believed this or that. Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president?

The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.” But this line of analysis requires that we ask one more question. And it’s the crucial one: Why didn’t a majority of voters see these things? And understanding the answer to that question is how we start to dig out of this tragic mess.

The answer is the right-wing media. Today, the right-wing media—Fox News (and the entire News Corp.), Newsmax, One America News Network, the Sinclair network of radio and TV stations and newspapers, iHeart Media (formerly Clear Channel), the Bott Radio Network (Christian radio), Elon Musk’s X, the huge podcasts like Joe Rogan’s, and much more—sets the news agenda in this country. And they fed their audiences a diet of slanted and distorted information that made it possible for Trump to win. Let me say that again, in case it got lost: Today, the right-wing media sets the news agenda in this country. Not The New York Times. Not The Washington Post (which bent over backwards to exert no influence when Jeff Bezos pulled the paper’s Harris endorsement). Not CBS, NBC, and ABC. The agenda is set by all the outlets I listed in the above paragraph. Even the mighty New York Times follows in its wake, aping the tone they set disturbingly often. If you read me regularly, you know that I’ve written this before, but I���m going to keep writing it until people—specifically, rich liberals, who are the only people in the world who have the power to do something about this state of affairs—take some action.

[...]

This is the year in which it became obvious that the right-wing media has more power than the mainstream media. It’s not just that it’s bigger. It’s that it speaks with one voice, and that voice says Democrats and liberals are treasonous elitists who hate you, and Republicans and conservatives love God and country and are your last line of defense against your son coming home from school your daughter. And that is why Donald Trump won. Indeed, the right-wing media is why he exists in our political lives in the first place. Don’t believe me? Try this thought experiment. Imagine Trump coming down that escalator in 2015 with no right-wing media; no Fox News; an agenda still set, and mores still established, by staid old CBS News, the House of Murrow, and The New York Times.

That atmosphere would have denied an outrageous figure like Trump the oxygen he needed to survive and flourish. He just would not have been taken seriously at all. In that world, ruled by a traditional mainstream media, Trump would have been seen by Republicans as a liability, and they would have done what they failed to do in real life—banded together to marginalize him. But the existence of Fox changed everything. Fox hosted the early debates, which Trump won not with intelligence, but outrageousness. He tapped into the grievance culture Fox had nursed among conservatives for years. He had (most of the time) Rupert Murdoch’s personal blessing. In 2015-16, Fox made Trump possible. [...]

The fake story about Haitian residents of Springfield, Ohio eating cats and dogs, for example, started with a Facebook post citing second- and third-hand sources, Gertz told me; it then “circulated on X and was picked up by all the major right-wing influencers.” Only then did Vance, a very online dude, notice it and decide to run with it. And then Trump said it himself at the debate. But it started in the right-wing media. Likewise with the post-debate ABC “whistleblower” claims, which Gertz wrote about at the time. This was the story that ABC, which hosted the only presidential debate this election, fed Team Harris the questions in advance. This started, Gertz wrote, as a “wildly flimsy internet rumor launched by a random pro-Trump X poster.” Soon enough, the right-wing media was all over it.

Maybe that one didn’t make a huge difference (although who knows?), but this one, I believe, absolutely did: the idea that Harris and Joe Biden swiped emergency aid away from the victims of Hurricane Helene (in mostly Southern, red states) and gave it all to undocumented migrants. It did not start with Trump or his campaign or Vance or the Republican National Committee or Lindsey Graham. It started on Fox. Only then did the others pick it up. And it was key, since this was a moment when Harris’s momentum in the polling averages began to flag.

[...]

To much of America, by the way, this is not understood as one side’s view of things. It’s simply “the news.” This is what people—white people, chiefly—watch in about two-thirds of the country. I trust that you’ve seen in your travels, as I have in mine, that in red or even some purple parts of the country, when you walk into a hotel lobby or a hospital waiting room or even a bar, where the TVs ought to be offering us some peace and just showing ESPN, at least one television is tuned to Fox. That’s reach, and that’s power. And then people get in their cars to drive home and listen to an iHeart, right-wing talk radio station. And then they get home and watch their local news and it’s owned by Sinclair, and it, too, has a clear right-wing slant. And then they pick up their local paper, if it still exists, and the oped page features Cal Thomas and Ben Shapiro. Liberals, rich and otherwise, live in a bubble where they never see this stuff. I would beg them to see it. Watch some Fox. Listen to some Christian radio. Experience the news that millions of Americans are getting on a daily basis. You’ll pretty quickly come to understand what I’m saying here.

[...] The reason? The right-wing media. And it’s only growing and growing. And I haven’t even gotten to social media and Tik Tok and the other platforms from which far more people are getting their news these days. The right is way ahead on those fronts too. Liberals must wake up and understand this and do something about it before it’s too late, which it almost is.

Michael Tomasky of TNR explains it perfectly: Donald Trump won due to the right-wing media apparatus feeding lies to the voters.

[thehallstara]

i'm once again back at the "trying to get a diagnosis" grind and like. debating whether it's worth the risk to just straight up say to my gp "hey i think i might have a connective tissue disorder and here's why"

[sparklemaia]

Heyyy!!

So I've recently read a lot of your comics about top surgery, and I really resonate with your experience (I haven't had it myself but I'd like to). I've recently been exploring my own gender and realising I might be non binary, but I guess I feel sort of an imposter in that I want to keep my name and pronouns (afab), despite feeling like I never got the memo about what a "woman" is, which I know is fine, but I guess I was wondering how the shift from your agab into realising you were nb felt?

Like, you seem to describe your gender as sort of unknowable and indefinable, and I guess that's sort of how I feel? I just want to be... More me. I guess what I'm really asking is, how would you define/feel about that shift into realising you were nonbinary, do you still feel connected to your agab, how do you reconcile the two?

Sorry for the long ask!

Hi, this is such a good question! I actually DO still feel pretty connected to my agab. I feel like I am a girl but also more than a girl but also not enough of a girl, simultaneously. (Weirdly, I never ever feel like a woman, and definitely not a man, but I do feel like an adult at least some of the time.) Top surgery was 100% the right decision for me; my body feels so much more correct and I am grateful every single day this procedure was accessible to me. (I was on a low dose of T for a year and a half too, and I basically just got biceps and a sliiiightly lower voice out of it. We stan.) I simply don't have strong feelings about how these things do or do not map onto gender identity or other people's perceptions of my gender. I am generally perceived as female, and that's fine! Like, close enough! I often feel somewhere BETWEEN cis and trans, or even between cis and nonbinary, and sometimes I joke that I'm just "nonbinary for insurance purposes." I mostly use she/her pronouns, although won't object to they/them. I like my "feminine" name -- I chose it myself years ago for reasons unrelated to gender and I have no plans to change it again. In terms of gender presentation I'm usually somewhere in the "tomboy femme" zone. Basically, I've been through a medical transition but not a social transition. Which is not very common, or at least I haven't seen much representation of it! (Be the bad trans representation you want to see in the world, i guess??)

Even though the words are often used interchangeably, I feel more alliance to genderqueer as a label than nonbinary, because nonbinary feels too clinical and "third checkbox"y to me, whereas genderqueer feels more expansive and undefinable and dynamic, with space for the ways in which I both am and am not performing girlhood correctly. When pressed to pick a gender word for myself, that one feels the closest. But if I'm filling out a government form or whatever? Yeah sure F is fine.

A lot of where I land with this stuff, though, is just kind of relaxing my grip on language. Top surgery was a relief, it helped me feel present in and connected to my body. Ultimately it doesn't matter much to me how much of that was *gender* dysphoria and how much of it was just... something I wanted, a way to make my body feel more like mine, to align my mental image of myself with the thing I had to stuff into clothes and walk around the city every day. I believe very strongly in bodily autonomy, and in making our lives as easy and comfortable and joyful as we can for ourselves, without needing to have a clean and tidy explanation for our choices. It is very possible to know with reasonable certainty that you want something, that it will be a net positive for your life, without being able to articulate, even to yourself, WHY you want it. It doesn't need to have a bigger meaning than ahh yes, this feels right. At this point in my life, I'm more invested in marveling at the sheer improbability of my own existence than in wedging myself into the taxonomy of known and acceptable gender narratives. I'm just a person, here for the merest twinkle of a moment in cosmic history, making soup and knitting baby hats and admiring bugs and singing off-key and cutting my own hair and doing my gosh darn best to light my tiny patch of night sky with stories so that you (and you, and you) feel less alone on your own journey through the unfurling dark. Gender is just such an inconsequential detail in the narrative of my life, and pretty open to reader interpretation anyway.

Not having to wear bras is pretty great though ngl

[lycandrophile]

building off of this post, people love to say that “trans men want to keep going into in women’s spaces after they transition because they just want to have the best of both worlds!” but in my experience, there are four main reasons that a trans man might use a “women’s space” after they transition:

it’s an important resource that’s being arbitrarily gendered and we need to use it regardless of which gender is “supposed to” be using it.

it’s a public facility where we’d be significantly less safe in the men’s version and we have to choose our safety over our desire to not be misgendered.

it’s a social space that we’ve been in since before we transitioned and we don’t want to suddenly be cut off from our friends and support system.

the trans man in question is multigender and is also a woman, or maintains some other kind of connection to womanhood alongside their manhood.

do any of those sound like “evil men rubbing our dirty little hands together making plans for how we’re going to get male privilege without losing access to women’s spaces” to you? they sure don’t to me!

i think it’s pretty reasonable that we want to transition without losing the ability to access the resources we need, keep ourselves safe, keep up the relationships we’ve built, and express all facets of who we are. all of those are really, like, pretty basic parts of having good life and we shouldn’t be expected to give them up when we transition.

and honestly, if you claim to care about trans people, you should not be so attached to the gendering of these spaces that you’re willing to deny trans men those things for the sake of upholding gender restrictions. anyone who prioritizes the sanctity of gender segregated spaces over the safety, health, and well-being of trans men is a fucking transphobe. (yes, even if you’re trans yourself.)

and that’s what really gets me about all of this — the vehemence with which people are willing to defend those spaces being entirely and inflexibly gendered, despite how enforcement of gendered spaces has hurt trans people time and time again. gendered spaces have literally always been set up in ways that force trans people to break the rules; some trans men might break those rules in ways that don’t make sense to you, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong for us to do so! it just means you might feel weird about it and that’s okay, discomfort won’t kill you.

“but using women’s spaces after transitioning to male defeats the purpose of transitioning! the whole point of transitioning is to be able to live as a man!”

and who are you to tell trans men what the point of our transitions should be? what if the purpose of us transitioning is just to live the happiest and most fulfilled life possible, and forcing ourselves into unsafe spaces or denying ourselves access to important resources or cutting ourselves off from important people in our lives or pushing down the more complex parts of our genders would “defeat the purpose of transitioning” for us? what if being able to go where cis men go is just one part of a much bigger journey, not the end goal?

if you really want to talk about “defeating the purpose,” let’s talk about how policing which gendered spaces trans men can access defeats the purpose of trying to stop cis people from policing which gendered spaces trans people can access, because it allows the policing of trans people in gendered spaces to continue in some form instead of eliminating it altogether. let’s talk about how using “evil men invading women’s spaces” rhetoric against trans men defeats the purpose of trying to stop cis people from using it against trans women, because it allows the rhetoric to continue in some form instead of eliminating it altogether.

the point of saying “let people decide which gendered space is right for them” isn’t to make sure everyone uses the one aligned with their “true gender,” it’s to let people do what’s best for them without punishing them for their choice. sometimes the best choice is one that seems wrong from the outside, and you need to learn to live with that.

i just think we as a community need to be more hostile toward people who think upholding the sanctity of a gendered space is more important than giving trans people the freedom to move through the world without being punished for existing in those gendered spaces. that kind of thinking is fucking dangerous and it’s weird as hell that some of y’all are so comfortable with it being directed at us.

moral of the story: stop giving so much of a shit about where a trans man decides to piss or see a doctor or hang out or whatever else. even if you think he doesn’t belong there, he probably has a good reason to be there anyway, and that reason is frankly none of your damn business.

[gardenschedule]

just insane mclennon things

John playing his and Yoko's sex tape in a band meeting

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over. It occured to me as I was walking down the stairs that what we’d heard could have been an expression of 1960s freedom and openness but was it more likely that it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down? “You need to understand that this is where she and I are now. I don’t want to hold your hand anymore.”

Paul putting beetles fucking on his album artwork

John hiring a pig and posing with it solely to mock Ram even though he was scared of it

At the end of the day a farmer delivered a huge hog to the mansion [Tittenhurst Park]. It was John’s notion to parody the album jacket photograph of Paul McCartney’s Ram, which showed Paul wrestling with a ram; John would wrestle with a pig. We all went outside and stared at the large surly animal. It was much bigger than any of us had expected. John circled the animal warily. He liked the idea, but he didn’t like the hog. Dan stood poised to snap the picture. “Climb on its back, John, and grab its ears,” he said. John looked doubtful. He stepped closer to the animal. It let out a shrill, strange, sound. John stepped back, but we all urged him on. “You can do it, John,” I said. John approached the animal once again. “I can’t hold the friggin’ pig for too long. You get one shot and one shot alone,” he told Dan.

Loving John: The Untold Story, May Pang

John & Yoko attempting to get revenge married in Paris 2 days after Paul & Linda

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”

Philip Norman, John Lennon: The life

We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required.

John Lennon

SALEWICZ: Well, I always found it interesting the fact that he got – I mean, it seemed too much like coincidence to me, the fact that he got married a week or month after you. You know what I mean? PAUL: Yeah. I think we spurred each other into marriage. I mean, you know. They were very strong together, which left me out of the picture. So I got together with Linda and then we got strong with our own kind of thing. And I used to listen to a lot of what they said. I remember him saying to me, “You’ve got to work at marriage,” which is something I still remember as a bit of advice. I still remember that. Um… And then yeah, I think they were a little bit peeved that we got married first. Probably. In a little way, you know, just minor jealousies. And so they got married. I don’t know if that’s – I mean, who knows… [inaudible] making it up, anyway.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London): journalist Chris Salewicz

Their belief in telepathy & shared dreams

NEIL: I’d just rather not say anything. It’s one of those situations. PAUL: Yeah. [pause] Well, that’s – that’s the trouble you see, there, ‘cause that’s it. It’s like, with our – heightened awareness, the answer is not to say anything, you know. But it isn’t. ‘Cause I mean, we screw each other up totally if we don’t do that. ‘Cause we’re not ready for your heightened… vows of silence. [laughs; hapless] We’re really not! Like, we don’t know what the fuck each other’s talking about, when that – we all just sort of get— NEIL: I think it’s just between the four of you, that get it. That’s what I’d pretend. PAUL: Oh yeah, right, yeah. But you see, that’s it, that’s why John doesn’t say anything. ‘Cause he, you know, he just… There was something the other day, when I said, “Well, what do you think?” And he just stood there and didn’t say anything. And then – and I know exactly why, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t, if… [long pause] Somehow. You know, there’s nothing really much to be said about it. You just – we all just have to do it, and all that, instead of like talking about it. But – but if one of us is talking about it, it’s a drag if the other three aren’t. Because then it sort of throws you off. [inaudible; voice marking tape slate] I mean, we’ve just been talking about it now for a few years, you know. Like this…

From the Get Back sessions (13 January 1969).

HINDLE: What do you think about language? JOHN: I think it’s a bit crummy, you know? It is a drag form of communication, really. We’ll get – we’ll get telepathy. I believe that. HINDLE: You believe that? JOHN: Yeah, sure. Sure. Sure as anything I believe. It’s too… Because now we need it so much. [...] There are – there’s people everywhere of the same mind and it’s just… even amongst ourselves we can’t communicate. Which is the hard bit, you know. HINDLE: Yeah. JOHN: Amongst the people that sort of really agree. HINDLE: Just ’cause of words? JOHN: Just ’cause of words, and upbringing, and attitude, and how you express your… Well, it’s just some – you’ve got to find a mutual sort of language to express yourself, you know? And my language is that— HINDLE: Unless you fall in love it’s impossible to communicate like that. JOHN: I mean, I wasn’t in love last year, but I was communicating quite well with people. Not as well, or maybe not as powerfully. ’Cause now there’s two of us, doing that, brrmmm, whatever it is. Sending out a vibration or whatever. But before it was me and�� or me and George, alright, or whatever it was; we weren’t in love, but. You know. There’s enough in you to shove it out. It is just that bit. If you – if somebody comes in a room and he’s uptight and that, he can make the whole room uptight.

John Lennon, interviewed by Maurice Hindle (December 1968).

PAUL: I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.

PAUL MCCARTNEY TO THE BIG ISSUE. FEBRUARY 2012.

John climbing the wall to Paul's house because Paul skipped a session for his & Linda's anniversary

(Not confirmed but supposedly)

Paul being utterly convinced that John can't be gay because he didn't try it on when they slept in the same bed

I mean, if John was–the trouble is, see, is he’s not here to fend for himself, and we can’t ask him, “‘Scuse me, John, are you–have you ever been gay?” I mean, he’s the kind— I remember people used to ask that. There were lots of people asking cheeky questions, and they were always saying, “Well, why–have you ever tried homosexuality, John?” You know, they always used to ask all that kind of stuff. I remember John saying to them, “No, I’ve never met a fella I fancy enough.” And that was his kind of opinion. You know, “I may go–I may be gay one day, if some fella really turns me on.” He was–he was that open about it. But as far as I was concerned, I slept in a million hotel rooms–as we all did–slept in a million places with John, and there was never any hint of it.

December 24th, 1983: interview with DJ Roger Scott

“And I say, if he’s homosexual, I thought he’d have made a pass at me in 20 years, darling.”

Paul McCartney talking about John Lennon.

“Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, was a known homosexual. Epstein was always polite and charming. It has been insinuated that John was drawn to Epstein. I believe there was no such relationship between them. John was macho. But if John was a homosexual, it would have made no difference to me. I’ve asked Paul McCartney, who laughed and said: ‘Why not me? I’m handsome.’ Then he said: ‘I was holed up with John in hotel rooms everywhere. There was never a suggestion of anything like that.’ I believe him.”

Julia Baird, in Boston Globe: Lennon’s half-sister remembers… (2 October 1988).

“All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed - and to my knowledge John was never gay.”

Paul McCartney, The Brian Epstein Story

And maybe he's right to be offended?

Did Lennon have sex with other men? “I think he had a desire to, but I think he was too inhibited,” says Ono. “No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.” So did Lennon ever have sex with men? “No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

There was even some discussion, albeit not very serious, of whether he should stick to his own gender. “John said ‘It would hurt you like crazy if I made it with a girl. With a guy, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not competition. But I can’t make it with a guy because I love women too much, and I’d have to fall in love with the guy and I don’t think I can.’”

Yoko on her and John discussing the terms of an open marriage in 1973 (John Lennon: The Life)

On that note, Paul's obsession with sleeping in the same bed as John

Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998

John and I used to hitch-hike places together, it was something that we did together quite a lot; cementing our friendship, getting to know our feelings, our dreams, our ambitions together. It was a very wonderful period. I look back on it with great fondness. I particularly remember John and I would be squeezed in our little single bed, and Mike Robbins, who was a real nice guy, would come in late at night to say good night to us, switching off the lights as we were all going to bed.

Many Years From Now

John and I always liked wordplay. So, the phrase ‘She’s got a ticket to ride’ of course referred to riding on a bus or train, but – if you really want to know – it also referred to Ryde on the Isle of Wight, where my cousin Betty and her husband Mike were running a pub. That’s what they did; they ran pubs. He ended up as an entertainment manager at a Butlin’s holiday resort. Betty and Mike were very showbiz. It was great fun to visit them, so John and I hitchhiked down to Ryde, and when we wrote the song we were referring to the memory of this trip. It’s very cute now to think of me and John in a little single bed, top and tail, and Betty and Mike coming to tuck us in.

Paul McCartney, on ‘Ticket To Ride’. In The Lyrics (2021).

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

New Statesman, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle,” September 26, 1997

“I wrote all those songs with him so…. what can I say to people?? We were kids! I mean… we slept together, topped and tailed in beds and hitch-hiking and stuff, so,…. I mean, we were just totally you know,….. mates.”

Paul McCartney

John taking matters into his own hand to start rumours about him and Paul

The consensus among John, Paul and Yoko that if J&P could have been together, they would have

“. . . I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and… But you know I mean in this case I just sort of said, right – I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I could see that was the way it was going to go, and that Yoko would be very sort of powerful for him. So um, we all had to get out the way.”

Paul McCartney, interview with German tv program Exclusiv, April 1985.

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (Mid-June?, 1972)

Y: After the initial embarrassment, that how Paul is being very nice to me, he’s nice and a very, str- on the level, straight, sense, like wherever there’s something like happening at the Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man, or something like that he asks me if I know of anybody, things like that. And like I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like his being, he’s treating me with respect, not because it’s me, but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat, because there’s something definitely very strong with me, John, and Paul.

Yoko Ono, Revolution Tape, June 4th 1968

"We thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul.""

As a second choice from the Lennon- McCartney songbook, Elton suggested 'I Saw Her Standing There'. This appealed to John for its antiquity, and because its lead vocal always was sung by Paul. (...) There was a whisper of Royal Variety Show mischief when he announced "a number by an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul" - no one yet knowing the estranged fiancés were long reconciled.

John Lennon: The Life, Philip Norman

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

Married couple signatures

(and the reverse of that postcard...)

John publicly predicting Paul & Linda's divorce

You were right about New York! I do love it; it's the ONLY PLACE TO BE. (Apart from anything else, they leave you alone too!) I see you prefer Scotland! (MM) -- I'll bet you your piece of Apple you'll be living in New York by 1974 (two years is the usual time it takes you right?)

John's letter to Paul in Melody Maker, 1971 Finally, about not telling anyone that I left the Beatles—PAUL and Klein both spent the day persuading me it was better not to say anything—asking me not to say anything because it would 'hurt the Beatles'—and 'let's just let it petre out'—remember? So get that into your petty little perversion of a mind, Mrs. McCartney—the cunts asked me to keep quiet about it. Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you'll be out then—inspite of it all, love to you both, from us two.

John's personal letter to Linda & Paul, 1971

JOHN: Oh, [Klein]’d love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I’ve said that. In five years he’ll wake up. YOKO: And people don’t understand, you know. There’s so many groups that constantly announce they’re going to split, they’re going to split, and they can announce it every year, and it doesn’t mean they’re going to split. But people don’t understand what an extraordinary position the Beatles are in, you know. In every way. They’re in such an extraordinary position that they’re more insecure than other people. And so Klein thinks he’ll give Paul two years Linda-wise, you know. And John said, “No, Paul treasures things like children, things like that. It will be longer.” And of course, John was right.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

[askthestans]

Hey Stan, can you tell us stories about your brother Sherman being a total square?

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stan: He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed, but smiling fondly. For three hours straight.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 7]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

When you escaped your parents’ house and moved into the city for college, you already knew the basics of cooking. Since you had turned fourteen, it had been your responsibility to feed yourself. 'You are old enough to figure it out' was what your parents had told you. Living in the dorms didn't give you much opportunity to cook and when you finally had your own kitchen to really play around in, you didn't have the money to afford a full pantry. It was hard, but it never deterred you and you learned a couple of good recipes.

When Minnie came along and you were able to figure out her likes and dislikes, you made a few changes - you could finally afford to get all organic produce and bread not made from ninety percent sawdust and you started cooking even more because your little one didn't like things from a can. 

And despite what the experts and people online say, you give in to every one of Minnie's food whims. You don't want to force her to eat things she doesn't like. Your parents never listened to you, even if the food made you sick - you ate what was given to you or not at all. You are not going to do that to her and the rules you have come up with are she at least has to try something. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't need to eat it, and the past few months she's been pretty good at telling you why she doesn't like something. You don't always understand her reasoning, but you accept and tell her that she can try it again when she's bigger. 

Her favorite thing that you make is lasagna. You make it from scratch and she usually loves to help you and will spend all day excited for ooey-gooey cheese.

Usually.  

Today is not a usual day. Today your daughter is an upset little banshee. As soon as she woke up, she was in a bad mood. She didn't want to be touched at all and getting her dressed was a nightmare. Lots of 'no's and crying about how all her clothes were itchy until you finally allowed her to just wear her swimsuit. It was the only thing you could get her to stay in. You didn't even try with her hair, running your fingers through it to get out some knots, but that only lasted a full five seconds before she was running away from you.

You are trying to be patient with her - you know that something must be upsetting her, whether it be waking up on the wrong side of the bed or she's starting to get a cold and not feeling well. She doesn't know how to express herself beyond crying and you don't blame her. You want to cry when you don't feel well. 

That doesn't mean it isn't stressful for you. The back of your skull is throbbing from her screams and your own mood is sour because you don't know how to help. Hearing her so upset breaks your heart. 

Matt is supposed to come by, thus the homemade dinner, but part of you wonders if you should cancel. Minnie isn't going to calm down anytime soon and you would feel bad having him come over just to witness a tantrum. On the other hand, tantrums are a part of having a child. 

You decide to leave it up to him and send him a text letting him know Minnie is having a bad day. He quickly responds he still wants to come, so you return to working on your tomato sauce as quietly as you can.

Mouse has hidden herself under a throw blanket with her tablet and her plushies on the couch. You don't worry about her doing anything she shouldn't be - the tablet is child locked to hell and back - but it is a little hard to tell what she is doing since she's muted the tablet. There is an eerie purple glow coming from under the blanket, so you can guess she's playing one of her games. You've found a few that don't require sound that she enjoys - a few dress up games and matching things. 

Occasionally you hear her sniffle or mumble but she doesn't call for you, so you let her be. She didn't really nap today, so you're trying to avoid another meltdown. You are hoping when you remind her Matt is coming, it will help her mood. You're a little jealous he is obviously her new favorite person, but also you are so happy for it. 

Your original idea of taking things slow has been adjusted based on her reaction. You wanted to start talking to her about family today and build her up to the idea of having a dad, then have Matt over so she starts that association. That obviously is not going to happen. 

You finish up your prep and start to assemble the lasagna, laying sheets of pasta down before adding sauce and cheese then repeating the process until the pan is full. You made a little extra, with the intention of sending Matt home with leftovers. He had mentioned in passing that he doesn't get to cook much and living off take out is not ideal. 

The baking pan gets put into the oven and the timer is set, then you aren't sure what to do with yourself. It will take about an hour and Matt is scheduled to arrive then. 

You could do some cleaning, but with how Minnie is, you don't want to set her off. You know when she gets like this, any little thing can trigger her, so the best you can come up with is scrolling your phone. 

Still, you want to be with your baby, so you make your way to the couch. You keep your voice just above a whisper, knowing she's been itching at her ears all day, "Mouse, can I sit with you on the couch?"

You know she heard you based on the way the blanket moves. It takes a moment before you hear a tiny 'okay'.

You tuck yourself into the opposite corner and take out your phone to bring up something to look at. As soon as you start scrolling your feed, the glowing blanket mound starts moving towards you and you are easily overtaken by it. Minnie gets herself into your lap, still hidden away, then flops against your chest. You can feel her tablet against your thigh and you're pretty sure Scooby is jammed into your stomach, but as long as she's good, you're good. 

You keep an eye on the time as you flick through your phone. A majority of the news sites you follow are filling your feed with stories about the explosion in Connecticut. An uneasiness fills your stomach when you see the word 'attack' being thrown around. The headlines say they have determined the destruction was intentional and not an accident, though no one has claimed responsibility. Tony Stark gave some sort of press conference, so his face is all over your phone. 

You don't need this today, so you switch over to browsing some online shops. Minnie is getting too big for her winter coat, so you definitely need to get her one before the weather changes and prices go up. You'll have to get her approval before you make a final purchase, but it's good to check what is in the market. 

About twenty minutes before you are due to take the lasagna out of the oven, Matt texts you to let you know he is on his way. You confirm that you got his message, then gently run a hand over the mound in your lap, "Hey, sweetie. Dinner is almost ready. Do you remember what I said about dinner tonight?"

The blanket gets tugged and moved until Minnie can poke just the top of her head out. She squints at you, like she is judging you, before mumbling out, "Mister Matt is coming?"

You give her a soft smile, trying to comfort her in any way you can, "That's right, baby, Mister Matt is going to come over and have dinner with us."

She squirms in your lap, before flopping herself forward again and declaring, "I want juice."

"Okay, sweetie." 

You manage to gather her, her blanket, her tablet, and some plushies into your arms and get Minnie on your hip to carry her to the kitchen. You're an expert at doing things one handed and it only takes you a minute to make up a sippy cup. Once that is in her little hands, you deposit her into her seat at the dining table. You let her keep her blanket and toys, setting up Scooby and Pig so they are in the seat next to her and her tablet is on the table in front of her. 

She is indeed playing a dress up game and as she nurses her juice, she looks at each dress option for the character she's dressing. As she does that, you start to set the table around her. You can tell that despite the cuddles and quiet, your Mouse is still in a grumpy mood. You really, really hope that Matt will help her smile a little. 

Once everything is set, you check on the lasagna. It smells and looks delicious to you, and you take the sheet tray out a little early so it can start to cool. That gets Minnie's attention, and you can see her watching you out of the corner of your eye. She's stuck her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them as her eyes follow you around the kitchen.

You are so busy watching Mouse watch you, you don't keep track of the time and when there is a soft knock at the front door, you jump. 

You scurry to answer, putting your hand over your heart and telling yourself to chill out. You know who it is and why they are here, and you don't need to panic over it. It's just Matt, you tell yourself.

It's just Matt. 

You open the door and your breath catches. 

It is just Matt, but Matt is Matt, and he makes your heart pound in a different way. 

He's come right from work, so he's in one of his crisp, fitted suits. His hair is fluffed up, like he's run his fingers through it too many times, and he's got that permanent five o'clock shadow. He looks like some GQ model, standing in your doorway. 

Embarrassment runs through you. You're not nearly as dressed up as he is. Even on his casual days, he looks so fashionable and cool, and you are wearing biker shorts and a black T-shirt. You look by no means raggedy, but maybe you should have changed. Just because Matt can't see what you are wearing doesn't mean you can be a slob. 

"Hi," you eventually choke out and Matt's face lights up. 

"Hey there," he says back, then he's holding up a bottle of wine and smiling so sweetly, "I thought I'd try contributing this time and I figured you might need a glass." 

You can't help but flush. Today has been rather long and a glass of wine sounds amazing. You don't drink often, but he is right and a glass to unwind sounds perfect. 

"You're a saint," you praise, and step aside so he can come in. "How was your day? Oh, you can put your jacket and bag to your left. There's hooks about chest level." 

Matt thanks you, then reaches out to feel the wall. He finds the hooks quickly, then hangs his saddle bag before starting to remove his coat, "it was good. We were able to wrap up a few smaller cases - sometimes it just takes someone getting a lawyer for others to cave and do the right thing. Cheaper to just do the right thing than get sued and having to do it anyways, plus all the pay outs and fees."

"That is good," you hum, very much meaning it. You're glad those people got the help they needed. "You mentioned having a handful of cases, so that frees up your plate a little bit, right?"

Matt laughs a little, smile still wide, "A little bit. It's a nice change of things - we aren't hurting for paying clients, so we are going to try to take on a few more pro-bono things. We're getting into a nice groove - or so Foggy claims. He's leading that charge - making sure we aren't over working ourselves."

"I'll have to send him a thank you card," you tease, surprising yourself with it. 

"He'd like that, he'd get to lord it over me," he replies. Then he turns to you and steps forward, reaching out and finding your arm. He ghosts his fingers up until he oh-so-gently wraps them around your bicep and steps forward until you're a breath away from each other and you have to look down at his chest, so you are not staring at your own reflection in his glasses. His voice drops to something quiet and intimate, and you can barely hear him through the pounding of your heart in your ears.

"I told them. About you. About Minnie."

You find yourself smiling at the news. That makes it more real, doesn't it? It isn't just the courts acknowledging Matt is Minnie's father - it's the real world. It's Matt wanting her - wanting to show the world he wants his daughter. 

That's all you want. 

You step just a fraction closer, and to keep your balance and let Matt know how close you are, you place your hand in Matt's chest. Almost instantly, his free hand goes to your waist, and you feel steady. 

You bite your bottom lip, then ask, your curiosity so much bigger than your ability to keep your mouth shut, "What did they say?"

He huffs and lightly shakes his head, "After yelling at me for keeping it a secret? They want to meet you, properly. If that is okay. I told them I'd ask you before confirming anything." He hums, then drops his voice even more, "Karen got me magnets so I could hang all the work I got up on my fridge at home." 

"You're going to need a lot of them," you whisper back to him. "I ordered popsicle sticks and puff balls so she can make 3D things." 

"I can't wait. Karen got me a bulk pack of magnets."

You giggle at that, but before you can reply, a needy little voice calls out from the dining table, "Mommy!"

You pull away from Matt, his fingers tracing down from your bicep to your wrist before he drops his hand, and turn to walk towards your daughter, "Yes, Mouse?"

"I'm hungry!" 

She's poked her head out from under the blanket and is now wearing it like a cape and her chubby little cheeks are pulled down into an upset frown. You have a feeling a tantrum may be close - there's nothing worse than a hangry toddler. 

You take a breath, then smile at your daughter, "Okay. Mister Matt is here so we can have dinner now. Do you want to tell him what we are having?"

Matt taps his way into the main living space, and you know you should give him a quick tour, but you think if you delay dinner at all, Minnie is going to start crying, so you tell him instead where the table is. 

Minnie doesn't seem to want to engage, stuffing her fingers back into her mouth. Luckily, Matt isn't dissuaded by that. He sets the wine bottle down before taking the seat across from Minnie. 

"It smells like we're going to have lasagna for dinner. Is that what we are having?" he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

Your little one rocks side to side, keeping her fingers in her mouth before nodding. Normally, you would remind her to use her words, but you don't want to push, so you relay her message to Matt, "She nodded."

Matt hums softly in response. He tilts his head slightly, brows knitting together, before leaning forward just a fraction, "Do you want us to leave you alone until you eat?"

You are surprised by the question then even more surprised when he gets the tiniest, 'yes' in reply. Matt's face softens at that, and he nods to Minnie.

"Okay. Can I still talk to your Mommy, or do you want us to be quiet, too?"

You stand, dish towel in your hands, ready to bring the lasagna to the table, watching your daughter interact with her father. He's being so gentle and understanding with her and you can tell he's being genuine. You can hear the care in his words, how he's giving her choice and not pushing her to talk to him. 

You'll gladly eat dinner in silence if Minnie doesn't want either of you to talk. You don't know how it will work, but you'll try. 

Your little one doesn't answer the question right away. She looks between you and Matt, before pulling her fingers out of her mouth to speak, "You can talk to Mommy."

"Thank you, sweetheart. We'll be quiet, okay?" Matt promises. 

You quickly parrot him, giving your own soft smile, "Thank you, baby. We'll keep it down." 

Minnie snuggles herself tighter into her blanket and you take that as a sign to get yourself into gear. You carefully pick up the lasagna pan and bring it over to the table, setting it as far as possible away from your little one. 

Matt tilts his head towards you, and the food, "That smells delicious. Did you make it yourself?"

You go back to the kitchen to get your serving utensils and answer in the softest voice you can muster that isn't whispering, "Thank you, I did. I found an all organic, from scratch recipe online and have been using it ever since. It's even fancy, way too expensive, cheese. I, uh, made extra. For you to take home, if you want."

Matt licks his lips, and you can tell he's trying to hold back a big smile. It makes your insides turn in a funny way - his kindness and appreciation. You are, as sad as it is, not used to such treatment and for whatever reason that, combined with Minnie's attitude, and Matt being in your apartment for the first time kick starts your anxiety. You are definitely very aware of your heartbeat, and it feels like someone dipped your heart into ice water before it disappears into a hollowness. 

This feeling isn't new to you, so you try to push past it, not let your sudden panic ruin things, because despite your little one's sourness, things are okay. You tell yourself things are okay. 

Your tiny bout of distress goes unnoticed, as it lasts the blink of an eye. Matt leans back in his chair, letting his smile start to crack through, "You didn't have to do that, but I will definitely take you up on it. I can't turn away a home cooked meal."

You force yourself to smile and cut out a slice of lasagna for Matt, before leaning over to place it on his plate, "Guests first."

"Thank you," Matt practically cooes, "I don't think I've been this excited for a dinner in a long time."

The praise does all sorts of things to you, so instead you focus on cutting out a little slice for Minnie and serving it to her. As soon as the food is in front of her, she stabs her fork into it and shovels a piece into her pouty mouth. You don't blame her at all.

"Would you like a glass of wine…?" You ask Matt. Minnie has her sippy juice, but you haven't set out any other drinks. 

He gives you a soft, "Yes, please," and you go to get the two wine glasses you have and a cork screw. You bring them back to the table and set down the glasses before going to open the wine. You haven't done it in such a long time it takes you a minute of struggling to pop it.  Matt turns his head towards you, a little grin on his face until you start pouring. 

You give Matt his drink, then finally make your own plate before sitting beside Matt. Minnie is still angrily stabbing at her dinner and you feel so bad for her. Even with her favorite dinner and good company, she's not having it. You expect when you put her down, either she'll try to fight you or be asleep the moment she touches the covers. You very much hope for the latter. 

Matt, on the other hand, looks completely enthralled with his plate. You can tell his eyes are closed and he's clearly enjoying what he's eating. 

You don't press for conversation - instead reaching for your wine. It's a deep red and delicious on your tongue and you can't remember the last time you've had a good wine. You can feel your shoulders starting to loosen. 

Which of course means, everything needs to come crashing down. 

One moment everything is okay, then the next, Minnie is absolutely screeching. Her face is screwed up in pain and you scramble to get out of your chair to get to her.

"Minnie! What's wrong?!" You try to ask her over her wailing. 

Instead of any sort of answer, she grabs for her fork, which is stabbed into her food, and throws it as hard as she can. You watch in horror as the fork and a large chunk of lasagna still attached to it flies over the table and smacks right into Matt's chest. Panic surges through you as he also bends forward and covers his ears with a distressed face, ignoring the food staining his shirt.

You try to grab Minnie from her booster, but she does not want it and instantly starts to try and fight you, flinging her arms and legs everywhere. 

"Minnie, please," you beg as she kicks you in the hip, "What's wrong, baby?!"

The only reply you get is upset screaming. 

"Cover her ears!" 

Matt is very suddenly beside you and clapping his hands over your baby's ears. She fights it, squirming to get away and smacking at his arms with all her might, but he doesn't budge. You stare, not understanding what is going on, what set her off, and you don't know how to help. 

You don't know how to help and that sinking feeling in your chest is returning and you're scared. 

Matt says your name again, then almost barks at you, "Her headphones! Get her headphones, the strongest ones!" 

You don't understand why but it's something you can help with, something you can do, and you rush to the bedroom and grab her sleeping headband. Minnie has always told you this one works the best, despite the reviews of the others. You run back to the dining area and nearly stumble upon what you see.

Matt has somehow gotten Minnie out of her booster seat and into his arms, and she is octopus clinging to him. Her face is pressed into his neck, one ear on his shoulder, while he keeps his hand clamped over the other. He's lightly bouncing her in his arm as she cries against him and part of you becomes extremely distressed at seeing someone else comfort your child. 

You push that away quickly to hurry forward and hold up the headband, "I've got it." 

Matt nods, then turns his focus back to Minnie. He noses her hair, and you can just barely hear him over her, "It's okay, baby, Mommy has your headband. We're gonna make it quiet. I know it hurts, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."

You hesitate before stepping towards them. Minnie doesn't flail or pull away as you maneuver the headband and get it over both her ears. It feels so awkward to do as she cries and once it is on her head and over her ears, she reaches up and yanks on it until it is in place. Then she flops back down into the crook of Matt's neck, still crying but somehow not as urgently. 

You are unsure of what to do, but everything in you screams to touch your child, so you shuffle close to Matt until you can put a comforting hand on her back. 

"I'm right here, baby, it's okay," you whisper, gently rubbing a small circle along her spine. 

Matt shifts slightly, and the hand that was covering Minnie's ear drops and he instead wraps it around your waist and pulls you closer, so you are flush against him, with Minnie between the two of you. 

That seems to help with whatever has upset Minnie so much. She stays clinging to Matt while he oh so gently sways you back and forth. Her screeching dies down to tired-upset crying and you know she's going to keep going until she passes out. 

To your absolute amazement, Matt doesn't seem deterred at all. He keeps his nose buried into his daughter's hair, talking quietly to her as she sobs, "It's okay. Shhhh, shhh. Feel my heartbeat, sweetie. Focus on that. The bad noise will stop soon, I promise. Just listen to your Mommy and I." 

You have no idea what he is talking about - what the bad noise is - but it's calming Minnie down, so you let him keep going. You keep your hand on her back, gently doing your own 'shhh'ing, trying to encourage her to calm even more. 

"That's my good girl," Matt hums, before giving her the briefest kiss against her temple. "Do you want to go to Mommy now?" 

You don't hear Minnie respond, but she must in some way because soon enough she is being transferred into your arms. She clings to you loosely and you can feel her little body starting to droop. She must be close to wearing herself out.

She makes a little upset whine between her huffing and puffing, and you instantly take up gently bouncing her like Matt has been doing. Matt stays wrapped around both of you, taking over your role of rubbing Minnie's back. 

You don't know how long you stay there, curled together and soothing Minnie, both of you whispering little words of love and comfort to your daughter. 

You think you are past the worst of it, but of course that isn't the case.

Minnie starts squirming and fussing, reaching up and pressing at her ears over her headband. You look up to Matt, to see his reaction and your heart runs cold and fear spikes in you.

He looks absolutely murderous.

He's lifted his head and it is turned towards your living room, his brows scrunched and a scowl on his lips. You instinctively hug Minnie tight to you, but you quickly realize you have nothing to fear.

He stalks across your living room to your open window and yanks it shut. Right away, Minnie loops her arms back around your neck and settles with a sleepy sniffle. You press your face into her, rocking her a little more.

"I've got you, Mouse. It's okay. Mommy's right here."

You don't jump when Matt's hand brushes along your back and he once again wraps you in his arms. You allow yourself to turn ever so slightly and tuck yourself closer, lowering your head so it leans just barely against his shoulder, with Minnie hidden between your bodies.

You feel safe in that moment. You're confused why Minnie got so upset so suddenly and you're confused at how Matt knew how to handle it, but you feel safe, and even more so when Matt's arms tighten around you. 

"I've got you both," he practically breathes against you. "I won't let anything get you. I'm here now. I've got you." 

You close your eyes as the panic and adrenaline washes away from you and the exhaustion of your day starts to catch up to you. You very much understand how rubbing Minnie's back helps her sleep - Matt's started to drag his fingers up and down your spine and you know it could lull you into Dreamland.

Minnie's cries turn into sniffles and then quickly turn into quiet snores as the minutes pass.

You stay still until you are one hundred percent sure she's gone to the world before pulling back just slightly, and whisper, "I should go lay her down." 

Your face is so close to Matt's you can practically taste his breath and your heart starts to pound at the realization of it. 

You don't know if it is on account of your words or if he was also aware how tangled up the two of you were, but Matt drops his arms and steps away from you, nodding, "Yeah, she sounds pretty sleep now."

You chew your lip, not liking how your arms are suddenly chilly, but don't acknowledge it, "I'll be right back." 

You turn and grab Scooby and Pig, knowing another tantrum will happen if your daughter wakes up alone, and head towards the bedroom. It is surprisingly easy to get her to let go of you and you deposit Minnie into her bed. You place her toys beside her and tuck her in, careful to not jostle her. You dare to kiss her forehead before pulling away. 

As you turn to leave your bedroom, your window catches your eye. It is closed, but in front of it is a little table. 

Just like in your living room. There is a table under the window, with more than a few knick knacks on it. 

Your brow furrows and you return to the main living area. Matt has found his way back to the table and is drinking his glass of wine. 

"Is she good?" He asks, setting down his glass and turning to face you. 

"She didn't wake up at all, I think she's down for the count," you say, glancing towards where your window is before looking back to Matt. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," is his instant reply. You take a moment to look him over, from his fluffy hair, to the tomato sauce now on his shirt, to his fancy loafers, before returning to his handsome face.

"Matt…how did you know where the window is?"

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium @

two-unbeatable-beaters 

[kooktrash]

Fighting heart mc has a little accident at home and needs to go to the hospital (maybe for stitches?) and jk calls her and nurse pick it up and says that she’s in hospital 😌 And of course he got panicked and rushed to the hospital and even after he saw that she’s perfectly fine he can’t help but cry because of the fear and all those ugly emotions (and he thought that something big happened to her) 😭😭 And of course he wouldn’t stop gushing over her and be her ‘yes man’

oooof I missed these two idk. jk has always been the more stressed out one so I could def see him completely losing his shit while oc is like “🤷🏽‍♀️Shit happens” he def makes a bigger deal out of it.

FIGHTING HEART

warnings: mentions of bl**d, oc cuts her leg with glass. jk gets anxiety from it. oc needed stitches 2.4K words.

You never considered yourself a handy man of any sort. You hate getting your hands dirty and you hate doing any sort of hard labor at all—it’ll mess up your manicure, but today you didn’t have much of a choice. You had just been lounging around your apartment all day with Jimin who decided he would come over and keep you company. Your boyfriend, Jungkook, has been stuck training lately because he’s got a big fight coming up and Jin has been really strict on him because of it. Even if he won’t admit it, you know he’s been stressed because if he wins, he’ll win big.

Jungkook has finally begun to really establish himself as a real boxer and right now he’s getting so many calls from just about anyone in the boxing world looking to set a match with him. He’s so close to being the lightweight champion and you know it’s been a lot of pressure on him so all you’ve wanted to do was show him your support and show him he could rely on you.

Maybe that’s why you decided to tackle this issue on your own today.

“You’re scaring me, Y/n,” Jimin said as he watched you stand on your kitchen counter trying to switch out a lightbulb, “If you fall Jungkook is going to kill me.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you turned to him with the huge, heavy lightbulb in your hands, “Stop being so negative, I’m very capable of changing a lightbulb, thank you very much.”

Jimin released a sigh, “I mean… if you say so.”

Jungkook was exhausted, his body ached everywhere and all he wanted to do was drive over to you, pull you into a bath with him and hopefully fall asleep after. Lately it feels like all he’s done is train with Hobi and right now he just wants to stop it all and go see you.

Of course he’s thankful for all the opportunities he’s been given in life but right now he just wants to be selfish and hang out with the love of his life without worrying about the newest brand deal—which right now, Calvin Klein has been blowing up Jin’s phone to sign the new and upcoming boxer as a brand ambassador. He thinks he’ll do it but only if he can get you signed on as well, it’s not like they would say no with the connections you have. Maybe he’ll talk to you about it tonight.

“Alright Kook, you wanna rest up tonight because tomorrow we’re doing it all over again,” Hoseok said to him as they walked toward their parked cars ready to end today’s session, “Are you going to see Y/n?”

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook said, already taking his phone out to call you, “I’m thinking we’ll get dinner and after that probably just lounge around.”

They said their goodbyes and once Jungkook was in the privacy of his car, he called you. Lately, he’s been so busy he almost feels guilty for not being able to see you. You’re so supportive and loving and all he wants to do is spend all his time with you but he’s finally doing something with his life and it’s all because of you so he just continues to push himself to his limits. He wants to be with someone worthy of you, no matter how many times you assure him you’ll love him no matter what.

You chose him over anyone else, even when you saw his poor living conditions with leaking roofs and broken cabinets. You stayed with him when you saw him lose control at an underground fight club. You’ve chosen him and he loves you so much that he misses you anytime he’s away.

When the call went to voicemail he couldn’t help but be confused, you told him you would just be home today so he wondered why you wouldn’t answer. Maybe you were sleeping or not around your phone, so he called you again just to be sure.

“Hello?”

Jungkook pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at the screen to make sure he had in fact called you and not whatever guy was currently answering the phone, “Y/n?”

“Jungkook,” Jimin cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, this is Jimin.”

He released a breath in relief, “Oh, where’s Y/n?”

“Um,” Jimin bit his lip nervously as he looked behind him. Jungkook waited for him to speak but the longer he stayed quiet the more worried he got. Why did Jimin answer your phone and why did he seem so nervous?

“Y/n can’t really answer the phone right now,” Jimin said, already imagining your overprotective boyfriend plunging his fist into Jimin’s pretty head, “She had an accident an—“

“What?” Jungkook hit the brakes hard, completely forgetting he was trying to drive out of the parking lot, “What do you mean accident? Where is she?”

“We’re at the hospital right now, they’re giving her stitches—“

“Where?” Jungkook’s voice dropped to a low octave as his blood ran cold. He barely listened to the hospital Jimin told him before he was hanging up and speeding toward you. He ran a couple red lights but he didn’t even care. He felt his anxiety begin to spike up to the point where his chest tightened painfully and it was getting hard for him to breathe.

Getting to the hospital all happened in a blur, he went straight to the E.R section and he knew that the nurse behind the counter thought he looked crazy.

He was drenched in sweat from training and his eyes were red, his hands shaky and his voice cracked when he asked what room you were in.

“She’s just finishing up surgery and she’ll be out soon, I’ll take you to where the friend is waiting,” the nurse said and he anxiously followed after her, biting his lip so hard that it bled. The elevator ride felt like an eternity and he ignored the nurse’s warning not to run as he searched for Jimin who sat outside the room with his head down.

“What happened?” Jungkook asked and there was no denying the panic in his voice. Jimin shot up out of his seat looking a little scared by the way Jungkook glared at him. Jimin bit his lip, “We were in her kitchen and Y/n was trying to change a stupid lightbulb and—“

“Ow!”

Jungkook looked to the room, the blinds were closed so he couldn’t even look in and the door was shut, “Oh my god, did she fall?”

Jimin nodded subtly, “Y/n dropped the bulb and I think it s-scared her and she ended up falling a-and, glass was everywhere a—“

“What the fuck were you doing?!” Jungkook yelled louder than he meant to and others immediately turned to him with worry. Jimin’s eyes widened at the way Jungkook grabbed at him and once Jungkook realized what he was doing, he immediately let him go, “I’m sorry, Jimin. Sorry… b-but, if something happens to Y/n…”

“I know man,” Jimin put a hand on his shoulder, “She’s just getting a few stitches and she’ll be out soon. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook sat down with his head in his hands, hiding himself as he shut his eyes trying to get his brain to shut up. He knows that you’ll be fine but he can’t help but imagine the worse. He’s been so busy lately and he told you he would switch the stupid lightbulb for you and just kept forgetting. This is all his fault. All of it.

The thought of you being hurt in even the slightest way made him sick to his stomach. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. He’s supposed to keep you safe and be there for you and he hasn’t been and he feels so fucking shitty because all he can picture right now is your fall. How bad was it? How did it happen? Jimin said there was glass everywhere…

How hurt were you?

It felt like years passed before they were finally let into the room. Jimin stood behind with guilt written all over his face as Jungkook went right to your side, immediately holding your face in his hands, “Baby, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you said with a smile as you looked down at your leg, “Just a couple stitches, nothing too bad.”

“Six stitches and a large piece of glass in her heel,” the doctor said as he looked down at his paperwork. Jungkook was hovering over you with his forehead pressed against yours, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” You asked brushing his sticky hair out of his face, “I’m fine.”

“She did great,” the doctor said, finally getting Jungkook’s attention, “We’re going to prescribe something for the pain and finish up some paperwork. We have a pair of crutches Y/n could use but she should be healed in about three weeks. As of right now, I’d say put as little weight on her foot as possible, it was a big fall and she’s definitely bruised up.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Jungkook said and you looked at him. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked down at your boyfriend who lifted your knuckles to his lips and kissed the top of them. You could see his reddened eyes and when he looked up at you it was clear he was crying, this is the second time you’ve seen your strong boyfriend cry and it broke you.

“Jimin,” you looked to your friend, “Can you give us a minute?”

The doctor took that as his cue to go get the paperwork and leave with your friend until it was just you and Jungkook. “Baby,” you called to him once you were alone and he allowed himself to fully break down against your hospital bed, “What’s wrong? Are you mad? I know you told me to wait b-but, I just wan—“

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, tears falling down his cheeks, “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/n. I keep telling you over and over again that I want to be someone you deserve and I just keep disappointing you.”

You sat up suddenly, wincing a little as you shifted your leg and Jungkook immediately looked up with fear, “Jungkook, this isn’t your fault at all. This was an accident, I was being impatient. Even Jimin told me it was a bad idea but I wanted to prove that I could do things on my own, obviously not bu—“

“Baby, you’re so strong and you don’t even know it,” Jungkook said as he sat down on the edge, careful not to take up too much room, “So strong and smart that you can do anything. I just… I should’ve just done it the first time you told me.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” You combed his hair back before wiping his tears away with your thumb, “And shouldn’t I be the one crying? I just got six stitches.”

Jungkook sniffled as he leaned forward and pulled you into a tight hug, “I was so scared, baby, so fucking scared that something horrible happened and I just… I just couldn’t get over the fact that I wasn’t around.”

Your eyes met his and to help him calm down, and remind him he won’t lose you, you kissed him. Jungkook kissed you back wantonly, hand in your hair and salty tears on his tongue, “I love you so much.”

The wait for the paperwork took forever and Jimin sat in the corner of the room watching you and Jungkook. He had been so exhausted from his training that when he rested his head on your chest, he fell asleep.

“You’ve got a very concerned boyfriend on your hands,” the nurse said once she returned, “I hear he caused a commotion downstairs and out in the hall just worried sick about you.”

“I’m sure he did,” you said in a whisper, brushing a finger against his cheek that had him waking up slowly, eyes hazy as he looked up at you.

“Alright, well just follow the doctor’s orders, once the numbing block wears off you’ll feel some pain because you sprained your ankle. We’ll do a follow up in about a week, how does that sound? Now I need the one she’ll be leaving with to sign these documents.

“Sounds good, we’ll be here,” Jungkook had your hand in his as he signed the paper with his free hand, there were crutches in her hands and she was motioning for you to try and sit up. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to tuck an arm under your back and the other one under your knees before he was lifting you up.

“No need for crutches?” The nurse asked, watching Jungkook pick you up with ease. Jimin took them from her with a thank you, “I guess not.”

“Babe, I can walk,” you tried telling him as he cradled you in his arms, “I’m heavy.”

“Shh, I’ve made guys bigger than you tap out with one punch,” Jungkook said as he carried you to the elevator with Jimin hot on your trails, “I think I’m capable of carrying my injured girlfriend to the car.”

When you got to the hotel you lived at, Jungkook had yet to let your feet touch the car even once. He helped you to bed using a pillow to rest your leg and making sure you were comfortable as he ran around looking for things you might need.

You giggled, “Kook, I’m not paralyzed, I can walk, just give me some time.”

“I know you’re strong babe but I really don’t want you over exerting yourself,” he said, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll go do it.”

“I still need the lightbulb fixed.”

“On it.”

Jungkook ran out to the kitchen, nearly crying again once he saw the mess on your perfectly polished marble floors. Once again he was reminded that you had probably been in a lot of pain and he wasn’t around. There was blood mixed with thin glass all over the floor and he went to your supply closet to get the cleaning supplies. If Jimin wasn’t around, what would have happened? Would you have forced yourself to stand and call an ambulance? Would you have called him or would you think he was too busy to answer?

The next morning Jungkook did not leave your side one bit. He called Hobi and told him he wouldn’t make it to training and spent his day doing everything he could for you.

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura a @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

[just-shairahhh]

The Way I Couldn't Love You

~ A "The Way I Loved You" story continuation.

Summary: Will you and Eddie get a second chance at what you lost? Or will the history tear through everything you had once built together?

Note: This post is a continuation of the story, "The Way I Loved You".

"And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again. Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. "

Everyday. Every single day of the first year since you moved away, you imagined in your head what it would be like to see Eddie again. A thousand scenarios swirling in your mind, tentacles of the nightmare you had to live through every day, creeping into your broken heart and imprisoning it in a tight grip, as you lay there. In the same dark corner. For hours. Until sleep showed you some mercy and reeled you in. Everyday.

Anger. Hurt. Betray.

You’d imagined it all. It was as if you could picture his stormy, hazel eyes pierce into you, the storm brewing in them upending your life all over again. And then you stopped. Squeezed your eyes tighter and stopped. You could feel the bile rising in your throat at the mere thought of seeing hatred in the eyes that had only ever looked at you with love. Pure, selfless love. No, it was too soon. You can’t see him yet. So you picked up your phone from the corner of the sofa you had slammed it in and replied to your sister’s text in a single word, “No”. And that was the hardest thing you had ever had to write, which was funny because once in a Spell-Bee competition you thought, “Embourgeoisement” was hard.

Your sister’s question did not leave your mind for the rest of the day, though. Or the coming week. Or the months that followed.

“Eddie was here again. Asking for an address or a contact. Said he really needed you. And that everything was falling apart. He looked worse than before, y/n. Should I send him your address?”

What did he mean everything was falling apart? Is he okay? Are his parents hurting him again? You tried to shut the voices out. You'd be back home on the next flight if you let them come in. Plus, he had Shannon now. He would be okay.

"I am sorry, Eddie. There's nothing more I want than to be right next to you. But if I fall again, I won't be able to get up. I can't. I need to heal. I really, really need to heal. I cannot live in this pain anymore. I am so, so sorry". You whisper into the night as you snuggle further into your pillow.

.....

“I don’t want dinner, mom! Leave me alone. Please.” The last word already more breathless and shakier than you’d like.

“That’s too bad. Cause I got you your favourite; that disgustingly sugary sweet abomination in the name of coffee” Eddie said as he entered through the door and made a very disgusted face as if someone had asked him to take Tabasco shots. Someone had once, by the way. It was you. And he had still made a better face. “And Chef Eddie’s personally mastered craft, tacos and enchiladas.” He said, proudly smiling and throwing around chef kisses.

You gave him a blank stare. And a second later, he relented.

“Fine, my abuela made them. God, woman. Lighten up. You broke up with an el tonto. I always warned you he was an el tonto. Not even a real man. Maybe you were a bigger idiot. But eh, what’s done is done. I’d say we celebrate”.

And just like that, at the mention of Josh, fresh tears broke free, replacing the now dried ones.

"Hey, hey, hey. I am sorry. I was kidding. Come here.” Eddie stepped in closer, about to engulf you in a hug.

But you pushed him away. “Go away, Eddie. Seriously. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“I will not, y/n. Not unless you eat. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything for hours.” His light-hearted banter now long gone, a more assertive voice stepping in. You knew it meant that he was concerned but you hated when he took that voice with you. It was very different than the one he took with Shannon. That concern was always laced with a soft plea at the end or a light kiss behind her ear.

Shannon. Just her name, brought out the anger you’d been trying to hold in.

But you try once more to not let the agony engulf you. To not be the person you are about to become if Eddie does not listen to you. “Go. Away. Eddie. I will have the food when I am hungry.”

Eddie, however, was not having any of it. “Come on, here. Let me get this for you. If you try one –”

And that’s when you lost it and screamed at the last person you ever wanted to raise your voice at. “GO AWAY! WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!” He tried to reach out again but you swatted his arm away. Hitting him on the chest once. Twice. Thrice. So he would just listen to you. Why is he not listening to you? He needs to go.

The long suppressed agony now letting itself out completely. Josh was not a good boyfriend to you. But he was a good friend before that. And when you broke up with him, you knew you’d lost that. This was all Eddie’s fault. He left you. All alone. And he went to Shannon. And you thought maybe, just maybe if you start dating, it will all go away? This... this hurt. All this pain. But it did not. But you knew. In your heart, you knew that it was not Eddie's fault. That he did loved you. He would do anything for you. Just not in the way you wanted. And that tore at you every day but that was not his fault. It couldn’t be.

And then you realise you that you are still hitting him. What are you doing? You stop as soon as you realise that and look up. There he was, your best friend. Taking it all in. Not saying anything. You feel so awful, so absolutely broken. And you feel tired. So very tired. So with a barely held sob, you slump forward, into his arms. Which were waiting for you, as if knowing. Waiting. Understanding.

So, you sob harder. Because that was the first day in all these years it had truly set in that Eddie would never be what you craved in him. You'd always thought one day it would all come back. That he would come back. But now you knew that he won't. He would always be here though. Just never yours.

But what you didn’t realise that day was Eddie’s heart was also breaking. If not more, then just as much as you. That was the first time he felt his best friend was slipping away and he was unaware. So very unaware of how much his best friend had loved this guy who broke her heart. He cursed himself for not understanding the gravity of the situation. What he didn't know was that, the sobs breaking through his chest, causing tremors in his heart were not for Josh but for him.

You didn’t notice the bandage on his knuckles for the next few days. You also didn’t notice that Josh Lawson was gone longer than the bandage had stayed.

And Eddie never told you either.

.....

“y/n?”

“Eddie.” You whisper softly.

You couldn’t recall how long you were spaced out for. When cold, familiar tears slid down your cheeks as easily as they used to, only then did you start to process the situation again.

“I- I... I have a few engine supplies to check. I should...” Buck slowly started.

No! Evan! What must he even be thinking? You slowly raise your eyes up at him. Expecting the worst. But his kind face only held understanding in them. He gave you a tight lipped smile before taking a few steps backward.

“Oh, this” you softly started and he followed your eyes and and looked down at the basket in your hands.

“Right.” He quickly took the box from your hand. “Muffins are my favourite! Ooooh, blueberry!” He gave you one last smile and walked back.

You still hadn’t looked at Eddie but you could feel his eyes follow you. With a deep breath, you somehow muster the courage to look up and nothing would have prepared you for what you saw.

You wished it was what you feared it all those years ago. You truly did. Anger. Fear. Betray. But he wasn’t any of those things. He was simply... lost.

Third Person POV:

There comes a time in everyone’s life when we lose something precious. A person, a memory, an object, a feeling; something we always, effortlessly considered a part of us. We would look everywhere, drive ourselves insane and would not know how to survive without it.

But then we learn. Slowly. Painfully. We grasp on how to survive without it and we start living again. But then one day, it turns up. But by then we don’t know how to feel. We have learnt to live with what we have lost but that doesn’t mean we have not felt incomplete in our existence. And just like that, we are back to the day we lost and we were lost. As clueless now as we were then.

Eddie Diaz was lost. He didn’t know how to take in what he had learnt to let go, now standing right in front of his eyes. The day that y/n left, she didn’t just take away his best friend, she took a part of him with her. A part that he had willingly given away to her to safekeep the first day he saw her across the fence looking at him with eyes that promised him the world. A part that was always meant to be hers.

A soft sob escaped y/n’s lips. Tears now freely slipping down her face. She had run this day through her head uncountable number of times. She thought it would all come back. The ghosts of her night and the nightmares of her day. The girl she used to be. But they didn't.

All that came back were the memories she had long buried down. But this time they didn't strike her like a snake, angry and hissing, it's fangs out, ready to poison her. This time, the memories hugged her like Eddie used to. Soothe her like Eddie used to. Make her feel understood... Like Eddie used to. And in that moment, all her doubts dissolved, and she knew that she had made the right choice when she decided to leave. Had she stayed back, she would have started hating Eddie, every memory she had of him and she knew that she would have started hating herself.

But she had still done Eddie wrong. She knew that. While her heart had healed for her, it also tore through her for what she had broken. There was no escape. Her only escape from everything life threw at her for the longest time, was now standing right in front of her; eyes wide, mouth agape and tears, years worth of tears threatening to spill through the barriers of his eyes behind which Eddie had managed to hide himself for a long time now.

"You're not in uniform" y/n whispered out. Her heart had started to spiral down several dominoes of emotions. And she could no longer think straight. Instead, she decided to focus on the patterns on his mustard yellow shirt.

"Yes, because my uniform totally should be your first concern after you just up and left the night of my wedding. While you're at it, why don't you go inside and check the logs to make sure whether I was on time for my shift or not?" Eddie replied.

What further pushed y/n down the ledge was the fact that Eddie did not shout, or scream or throw the words at her. He simply sounded... Defeated. Long gone was the boy who held fire in his eyes. Standing next to her now was a man who had seen it all fade away.

Soldiers. Friends. Humanity. His best friend. His Marriage. And maybe somewhere, himself. Or atleast the version of him that she used to know. She could not stand there pretending he had changed when she was the one who pulled away first.

So, she kept quiet and focused on the colours running checks on his shirt.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You left me, y/n. Why." He did not ask it as a question. More like a statement. As if he too, had gone through that one moment he found out y/n had left. For a very long. In a never ending loop. And when you do that enough, your mind starts to give you answers. Not the one you necessarily seek but the ones that bring out your worst insecurities. And there he was, her heart's closest confidant doubting all that he was, for himself and for her, on the basis of a single memory that turned both their worlds upside down all those years ago.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you would be there for me forever but you weren't. During the worst trials of my life, you weren't".

She could feel his voice tremor slightly as he slowly stepped closer. A single treacherous tear making its way down his beautiful face.

Y/n's POV:

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you'd always be my by side. But maybe you didn't mean those promises enough"

Brown. White. Blue.

"Or maybe I wasn't enough. Your family obviously knew everything. And our friends did too, I'm guessing. Everyone content with your decision, happy for you. I felt it."

Brown. White. Blue.

"And there I was, the only one left in the dark. Driving around like someone took away a part of my soul. And guess what? That is exactly what happened".

Brown. White. Blue.

"And I waited. For the longest time. Because I couldn't have imagined my life without you. Because I loved you. And I thought you did too. So why?"

"It's because I loved you." You scream at him through the tears, each word that he had said, striking all the cords that you had yourself been stricken by before.

You looked up at him through your clouded eyes and knew, that still, he had no idea.

Well, what time like the present? Infront of a firehouse, where he works. Where you'd come to meet one of his colleagues. What would be a better place to share the most vulnerable, sensitive corners of your heart?

"It's because I loved you that I let all the hurtful emotions of a teenage heart tore through me but stayed by you when you needed to talk about your relationships. It's because I loved you that I stood beside you and fought against your family so that you could marry the woman you loved, when all I wanted to do was scream at you, ask you to not marry her. It's because I loved you that I left the people, the home and the family I'd known all my life so that I didn't end up hating you. Everything was always because I loved you. And it was because you couldn't love me back".

You fall apart, sobs wreaking through you but no sound making it out because you were pressed into his comfortable, warm chest. One hand tightly holding you, as if he still couldn't believe you were here, as if you would disappear if he let go. The other weaving through your hair. Like he used to do all those years ago, something he knew would always calm you down.

And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again.

Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. As everything started to make sense to him.

"You know I loved you. I always did." He spoke softly into your ear. His voice heavy with emotions, trembling at every pause. His cheek pressed against your hair.

You could feel the realisation coursing through him and the guilt digging in his chest. It was Eddie. You knew him better than yourself on some things. The way he pulled you closer and tightened his arms around you, burying his face into your hair; told you enough.

"Yes, you did. But not the way I loved you. And that is so okay. I couldn't be more at peace. But that's now. That was not what was going on then. I needed to leave, Eddie. I am sorry. I really did. Every corner of that town spoke to me of us. I felt suffocated in my own home. I needed to be there for myself. I never meant to leave you. But if I hadn't, I would not have been able to be there for you either". You whispered back. Putting it all in your words. Hoping he would still get you like he always did.

He nodded. Just once. Softly.

"There's a chinese place down the block. I just got off duty. Wanna get some food? Maybe I will tell you about this y/e/c eyed beauty Buck couldn't stop talking about ever since he met her. I'm guessing that would be you?" Eddie smiled down at you. It wasn't a lot. But it was a beginning. Or the promise and hope of one. But where would you be today, had you not been living for the hope of it all.

"Actually, tell me about you first. And the very handsome Christopher. I know there's a lot to catch up on but spring rolls are a very good place to start. But then we are jumping right back to what Evan said about me." You smiled back as he led you to his car, shaking his head at you.

Things might not be okay for a long time maybe. It will take time and efforts. A lot of both. Some things you've to let time heal, others you have to work on for an even longer time. But it's efforts you're willing to put, maybe more than Eddie this time. And that's okay. Both of you are gonna be okay.

"Oh, you won't believe who I met in LA. And right on my first week. A little piece of shit we went to high school with. It was so annoying. Character development really is not for some people. Also, about Evan.... Uhmmm..."

.

.

.

[moosesarecute]

Part 10: The Shadows Sing

Part 9 Part 11

To say you were doing bad was an understatement. The fact that you still were able to walk was surprising you.

Sherry had lived in your cabin for over two weeks. Two weeks where you have been on alert 24/7.

Not only didn’t you have your shadows to protect you (except Elizabeth of course), you had to live with your biggest frenemy.

Meaning you hadn’t gotten more than an average of two hours sleep per night, except for last Friday where you accidentally slept for three hours.

Sherry acted surprisingly nice towards you. She shared her food and tried to have small talk with you.

Normally, that is something you would have enjoyed, but you were too paranoid. You felt that every word you said would let her know that you were a shadowsinger hiding your relationship with an other shadowsinger.

You’re not sure Sherry would have told anyone about it, but you knew that if Sole found out, you would be dead. You took no chances.

“Are you going to try to get the chicken today too?” Sherry asked you.

It was fight day. You were determined to win.

You gave Sherry a sharp nod.

“I’m rooting for you.”

You looked towards the female with a confused gaze.

“Sole always gets so selfish when he wins,” she explained. “I have never really gotten a piece of the chicken.”

You felt your hatred again Sole grow even bigger. You didn’t know that was possible.

Sherry had moved back home the night before. You had learned very much about both her and her twin through the weeks.

“Y/N against Sole for the chicken,” Master Raven called out. He almost sounded bored. “The loser gets the faebane anecdote.”

Not today, you told yourself. Today would be far from boring.

You used all the tricks Azriel had learned you together with all you already knew. With your body weight evenly distributed and your focus on only the battle.

Sole started and punched you directly into your nose.

Fuck.

Not today.

You punched back and landed a decent hit. However he hit back just as well.

Fucking Sole. You made your move.

Sole that always made your life miserable.

You managed to dodge twice where he didn’t. He was doing worse.

Sole that always thought himself as better than you.

You started to grow tired.

Sole that took your prosthetic.

He fell to the ground with your next hit, but he got up again quickly.

You had the upper hand. You needed the energy. You looked over at Sherry.

Sole that didn’t even care for his twin sister.

You landed a last hit directly into Sole’s nose.

“I yield,” you heard him whisper.

You almost didn’t believe what was going on as Master Raven handed you the chicken.

“Good job,” he said. But what he continued with worried you. “I’m grateful. I needed you in a good mood.”

You were about to ask him what he was talking about when you saw them. Appearing from behind bushes and trees.

Large leathery wings. Wings you had spent the first 15 years of your life fighting for. Wings you had spent the next 55 years hating and fearing. Wings you had started to look at like safety and comfort. Wings that suddenly turned back into a sign of fear.

Five illyrans moved towards you. A total of 10 siphons lighting from their leathers.

You were going to throw up.

At the front, leading the others, where the male that had hunted your nightmares your entire life. Adrian looked directly at you with a smug smile.

Your chest tightened.

“We have new business partners,” Master Raven said and you felt your world crumble.

“No.”

You felt like you hadn’t said anything else the last couple of minutes.

“They will give us safety,” Master Raven tried to reassure you.

You just shook your head and repeated your word.

“They made a promise. We help them take down the High Lord, they give us money and safety.”

You let out a hysterical, but short laugh.

“These are the same people, literally the same individuals that ripped my wings of my body and left me to die at the age of 15. You actually trust them to be honest and protect us?” You were screaming at him.

“The cause is worth it,” Master Raven stated with his calm voice.

You felt yourself grow furious.

“The High Lord of the Night Court is the reason we are alive today. He saved our lives at least once a week during Amarantha and your thank you is to help the people that’s trying to kill him? You’re worse than I thought!”

“We helped him during the war with Hybern.” His voice was now more aggressive. “I’d say our debt is payed.”

You were shaking with anger.

“Helped? You think that was help? You let out a wild naga on the battlefield and then left. After I had begged you for days to do something. If I hadn’t…If the spirits above hadn’t been on our side, so many innocent people would have died!”

“We are helping them whether you like it or not. Stop your tantrum right now.”

You tried to take a few deep breaths. You failed miserably.

“I’m not taking a part in anything that would help them.”

He let out a sigh.

“Y/N-“

“No, you can’t change my mind.”

“It’ll be 95/5 then.”

You picked up your chicken and walked away.

You walked out Master Raven’s door and into the forest.

Without your shadows you had to walk everywhere. Poor Elizabeth was working her best, but not even she could shadow walk you on her own.

Unluckily for you, the fastest way to your cabin was through the fighting clearing where you knew the illyrans would be.

But you didn’t care. You were too angry to think clearly.

So you walked towards the clearing.

“There she is!” You heard Adrian call out for you.

You ignored him completely.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” He yelled.

You heard him move towards you. But you were too furious to realize what was happening.

That was until he grabbed your wrist and you lost it completely.

You turned around and immediately kicked your prosthetic deep in between his legs.

He of course let go of your wrist and then he fell to the forest floor. You walked away from him.

“Fucking bastard,” you heard behind you.

First when you closed the door to your cabin you let yourself feel.

You leaned against your door and slid down to the floor as your tears started to stream. You were shaking.

Your home was not safe anymore. It never had been, not really, but now it was unbearable. You had to find a way out.

Illyrans

Illyrans that you were supposed to help. That you were supposed to trust.

You couldn’t do that.

You needed to get away.

But you knew you had no choice but to stay. You couldn’t leave before you had paid your debt.

You looked down on your prosthetic. The part of your debt that you hadn’t been able to pay.

Maybe you should just give it back? You could convince Azriel to let you live with him until you could make a living for yourself.

You shook away the thought. Then you would be in debt to Azriel. You already owed him for asking him to babysit. Without your prosthetic you wouldn’t survive even a week.

You felt your chest tightened and you struggled to breathe between your cries. You couldn’t do this anymore. You were going to die, either from hunger, crying, terror or murder.

You were about to let out a new cry when you felt the swirling around your body.

Your cry turned into one of relief. You had sent Elizabeth to get the rest of your shadows the second Sherry left, but she hadn’t come back yet.

Your shadows swirled around your entire body and dried away your tears.

“We’re home!”

“We’ll protect!”

“Missed you.”

“Finally home.”

After a few seconds, they started to get more chaotic.

“What’s going on?” You asked them.

“Master and friend needs help, mistress.”

It took you a second to realize that they meant Azriel. Azriel and his shadows needed help!

“Take me to them,” you told them and stood up.

“Dangerous,” they answered and didn’t move.

“What can I do then?”

They swirled around like crazy once more. They were thinking.

“We bring them here!”

You nodded and then they all disappeared.

You realized how bad it had to be if Azriel couldn’t transport himself.

“Ouch,” you heard from outside your cabin.

However, terror struck your heart when you realized it wasn’t Azriel’s voice.

Your shadows came back into your cabin and started to pull you outside. You would have to fight, you knew it.

Two illyran males laid on the ground before your cabin. You realized one of them was Azriel, but the other one, you had no idea.

The other male started to stand up, without seeing you, and tried to pull Azriel up with him.

“Come on, big guy,” he said. “We need to get out of here.”

He was going to kidnap Azriel! You needed to do something.

You ran towards them and immediately jumped on the stranger. You hit his chest and kicked your prosthetic into the back of his knee. He fought back like crazy.

“Leave him alone!” You yelled at him.

You were about to kick him to the ground, when your shadows roughly took grip around your waist and instead pulled you to the ground.

“Friend!” Your shadows yelled at you and pulled your hair. You quickly stood.

First after that you spent some time to look at the male. He had long hair that was sat up in a bun, but it was the seven siphons that gave away his identity.

“Oh gods!” You exclaimed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize.”

But then you remembered that even though you knew a lot about Cassian, you shouldn’t trust him.

He surely didn’t trust you.

“Who are you?” He asked. He looked beaten up, but ready to attack.

“I’m Azriel’s,” you had to stop to think. “I’m his friend, I think.”

Cassian looked at you like you were crazy.

“Yeah, that sounds very convincing,” he said and started to move towards you.

You realize that for once, you had to gain his trust and not the other way around. And you needed to get his trust fast, because Azriel was hurt.

“He’s been training me the last few months,” you started to explain.

“Training you in what?” He asked, still not believing you.

What you did next was the most terrifying thing you had ever done. He had already seen your shadows. And Azriel trusted him. He had to be safe, right? He had to be, because you were not holding back if it could help Azriel.

“I’m like Azriel,” you whispered and let your shadows swirl around as they wished.

Cassian’s cautious eyes turned wide at the shadows that played with his hair and swirled around his biceps.

You pulled them back. And carefully walked over to Azriel. He still only laid on the ground. He was covered in small bruises and his shadows were no where to be seen.

The smell of faebane immediately hit you.

“Help me get him inside,” you said to Cassian.

You worked in silence as you carried Azriel and laid him down on your bed. You carefully moved his hair away from his face.

You turned around when you heard Cassian slump down on your chair.

“Are you hurt?” You asked him even though all the blood on your floor told you the honest answer. “What happened?”

“Ambush,” he just answered. You could see his drowsy eyes fighting to stay open. “Not badly, but the faebane doesn’t help. Azriel is worse than me.”

You felt shivers going through your body. Azriel was hurt. You felt like your heart was dying. You needed him to get better.

You turned your head towards the chicken you had laid beside the entrance door.

“I’ll be back soon,” you said as you picked up the chicken and walked out the door.

You knew what you had to do.

You had never seen a more arrogant smile on Sole’s face.

“No,” he just said.

“Please, Sole,” you tried to say nicely. “You’ll get the chicken and I’ll get the anecdote!”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“We’ll fight. The winner chooses what he wants,” he suggested.

You knew you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay,” you said.

You walked ten steps away from each other and started the fight.

Where you this morning had been determined, ready and confident, you were now exhausted, emotional and stressed. You needed to get the anecdote to Azriel.

When your fist landed wrong on the first hit and your wrist started to burn in pain, you knew that you would lose. But there was no way you would give up that easy.

You didn’t last long and when Sole got a particular hard hit into your already hurt nose, you knew it was over.

“I yield,” you said in a whisper.

You were too embarrassed to say it out loud. How could you be so weak. You couldn’t even win a fight when your mate’s health was at stake! You knew you were pathetic.

You looked towards Sole as he walked towards the anecdote and picked it up. You felt yourself grow worried when he also picked up the chicken. You knew that if he wanted to cheat and take both of them, you couldn’t do anything about it.

You let out a sigh as your thoughts took over. You’d never get enough to pay the debt. You couldn’t even win over Sole two times, how were you then going to hunt more and better than you already did?

“Catch.”

Sole’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you lifted your hands just fast enough to catch the small bottle of anecdote.

“Now leave,” he said.

You quickly got up on your feet and moved towards your cabin.

“Thanks,” you said before you had gotten too far for him to hear.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman

[opal-owl-flight]

No sign of Rain.

Not easy living with the fact that you hurt someone you just wanted to protect, isnt it.

More context under the cut!

Tldr: 3 realizes that forcing 4 away from the Platoon after Sploon2 the way they did wasnt the best choice. That forcing her to ignore what had happened had most likely contributed to her unable to cope with life beyond war.

(The comic above is from after Sploon3/SO! Situation described below is post Sploon2/OE.)

3 and 4 have been doing missions together awhile. 4s been able to handle herself well, but theres a moment where she trips up and gets hurt a lil more than usual. Like, its to the point where she needs to be taken off the field awhile.

3...

"|Im sorry.|"

"Heh? Three, if it wasnt for you, Id be dead. What are you saying sorry for?"

"|...if it werent for me going away when Octavio stole the Zapfish again...youd never have been dragged into this mess.|"

"Thats not your fault, Three. Cap'n called you away."

3 sighs... "|Still...you couldve been living a life where you never have to worry about your life being put in this much danger.

Or anyone else's life, for that matter.|"

4s the one whos quiet now, as she glances away. 3 does have a point... "...I guess so, yeah. But that wouldve meant that Id never have met you."

Silence sits between them awhile, until 3 grunts softly, to get 4 to look at them again. "|I want you to promise me something.|"

"What is it?"

"|When things settle down again, I want you to leave.|"

"....What?"

"|Live your life away from this. This danger, this war, this...everything.|"

"And leave YOU? Three, you cant do things alone anymore, you KNOW it!"

A clack of their beak. "|Im more capable than you think, Four. Dont think less of me.|"

"Im not- Im not thinking less of you!! Im just stating the facts!"

3s making a low gurgling noise. Its a similar sound an inkfish makes before spitting ink. A sound that says "dont test me."

"Three, Im not leaving. Its already happened... everything -- Octaria, the zapfish, the metro -- its all happened, and I cant just...go back after all of that."

"|Yes, you can. You still can. Youve a life outside this. Why else are you late enough that Marie has given up reprimanding you?|"

4 backs down...3s right. Again.

"...and what about you? Why dont you leave, too? Once...everything is stable."

3s ears droop. "|...theres nothing left for me. Ive thrown my lot with the NSS for as long as I remember. My team barely even recognizes me these days.|"

A silent beat goes by between them again.

"|So promise me. Promise me.| Rain." They rasp her name, making sure she gets the point. "|Promise me you'll live. Promise me you'll go back up there. You said you wanted to go to college -- go. Dont look back. Dont become like me.

I dont want you to become like...this.|"

They gesture to their scar. Their tentacles, forever stained marbled cyan.

4 can see in the gesture the pain they hid in their hearts. The regret. The guilt.

"...Tanara..."

"Live." they rasp, So quietly."Live. Promise me."

"I dont want to leave you alone."

"|Ive been in this war since Ive hatched, and Ive done things on my own before you were dragged into this. You deserve none of this bullshit.|"

"You dont deserve it either!"

3 grips her shoulders. pleading with her. "Promise me. Please promise me. That youll leave."

4 shakes her head. Resolute.

"Im sorry...I cant promise that to you. Youre my friend, Tanara. Im not letting you do this alone."

3... leans against her, defeated. Burying their face into her shoulder. Theyre shaking their head, clutching on her tight.

"...I-Im sorry, I...Ill be more careful next time. Okay? I can...I can promise you that much."

3 remains silent. Thats not what they want. They want her to be safe forever.

"...this really means a lot to you, huh?

Okay.

Ill...Ill think about it."

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

She does eventually decide to leave. Things were looking up for awhile, and missions are much lighter. She can dare to dream bigger now. That and...she cant stand seeing 3 looking so guilty whenever she says something abt her life on the surface.

None of it is their fault. Any of this. But they still feel that theyre taking her away from her "real life".

When she said that shes leaving the platoon, 3s look of jubilation both relieved and pained her. Then a thought hit her, right there.

"...Wait...all this time- did you just want to get rid of me? D-did you not want to be friends anymore?"

3 shakes their head. "|Rain, I asked you to live your dreams as a friend.

Your safety would be guaranteed. Youd be able to happily live your dreams without worry.|"

"...Will I ever see you again?"

3 sighs. "|...hopefully not.|"

4 gasps.

"|No- no-! Not because I dont want to see you-|"

"Tanara, youre making it hard for me to believe that youre doing this for me. What kind of life would I have if youre not there? Not a happy one, Im telling you!!!"

3s shaking as they sign. Trying so hard to keep their breaking mask tight.

"|Im a soldier, Rain. And Ill likely be one til the day I die.

I dont want to drag you back into this mess. I dont want you to get hurt, because of me.|"

Why is it that they always have a point? 4 despairs at the fact.

"So this means goodbye..?"

"|Weve got some days left. Lets make them count.|"

A smile. A bittersweet one.

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

These teenagers goddamn. 3 doesnt understand fully that shit still happened and one cant just leave and pretend nothing had transpired. Or maybe they felt they didnt deserve to have someone as good as 4.

Theyre ruthless in a sense that they know what their goals are. Their goal was to keep the world safe for everyone else to live. And if it means sacrificing their friendship with 4, so be it. If shes safe, their goal is met. Doesnt matter what either of them feel about it. (I suppose 4 getting injured really pushed them to make that choice.)

And 4... yeah, leaving was the smart choice for her personal growth, but agreeing with 3 to sacrifice their friendship wasnt the best choice to agree to. She felt like she cant argue 3 out of that decision they made for the both of them...so she just followed it.

"|Look alive, Rain. Your brand new life awaits you.|"

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

Thats why theyre so flabbergasted and upset that she came back. It felt like that time they spent alone, that sacrifice they made, was all in vain...

"Im sorry, Three. It sucked being away from you. It really did. I failed to live there...maybe my life is really meant to be lived here. On duty.

With you."

Are they disappointed that she failed her brand new life? No, never. They gave her the chance to run away from it all, but she came crawling back after doing so. If she felt that her life is here, after trying something else, so be it.

Thats what convinced them enough to allow 4 to return to duty. Theyll keep her safe another way. They also cant hide from themself the fact that theyre happy to see her again after so long.

[alotofpockets]

Birthday surprise | Daniëlle van de Donk

Pairing: Daniëlle van de Donk x Reader

Summary: You join your wife at training camp on her birthday with a life changing surprise gift.

A/n: Let's pretend Daan's birthday wasn't like a month ago, I just needed a good setting for this fic haha

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 650

This year your wife's birthday fell during the Dutch National Team's trainingscamp. Usually partners and guests weren't supposed to join the camps, but they had made an exception for you to join them today. You watched their morning practice on a bench in the sun. Watching Daniëlle play soccer was one of your favorite things to do but watching the way her face lights up when she wins one of the drills might make watching her practice even more fun. 

You had known the team for years, so when their training was done most of the girls greeted you with a hug before heading to the changing rooms. Daan loved seeing you at practice, you had always been so supportive of her career and were present at every game you were able to go to. You took the time the girls were in the changing rooms to get Andries Jonker alone, you had called ahead to share your plans with him. He's the reason you're able to be at the training camp today, you wanted to thank him again and hand him the surprise present that you brought. You had arranged that it would be handed to her along with the flowers that she would get from the team, thinking that would make the surprise even bigger not instantly knowing that the gift came from me.

The dining hall filled up with people for lunch time. You sat with your wife’s teammates as you sang happy birthday to her. She stood in front of her red velvet cake, it was her favorite and she was so happy that they were able to get it. She gets handed a bouquet of white roses and as they go to take a picture to document the occasion, she asks for you to join her. You take some pictures before Andries steps up, “We have one more small gift for you.” He says as he hands her a small bag and takes the flowers to put them in the vase on the table. You had planned it exactly like this but you were still nervous, this gift would be life changing. Daan reaches into the bag and pulls out a bundled up jersey, she’s confused why the team would give her a jersey, but she tries not to show her confusion as she hands you the bag so that she can unbundle it. 

She unbundles the fabric, realizing it’s a very small jersey. She turns it around and sees her name on the back. She looks over at you with big eyes, “Does this mean what I think it means?” Your nerves make room for excitement and your smile grows, “It does.” Daniëlle goes right in for a hug with tears streaming down her face. You hold her tight as your own tears run down your cheeks. “This is like the best birthday present ever.” She says as she slowly lets go to peck your lips. The rest of the team who had been just as shocked as Daan, all held their applause for you to have your moment. But the second the embrace ends, they start clapping and cheering. One by one her teammates and the staff members come over to congratulate you. Once everyone had their turn, you asked for a couple more pictures as the both of you held the jersey up, showing the back with the last name showing.

Both of you were overjoyed with the news. You had been trying different ways to get pregnant for a while now, and finally getting a positive pregnancy test meant so much. After lunch the two of you excuse yourselves to go outside and let everything sink in. You sit down on a nearby bench and start talking about how excited you are for this new chapter of your lives. “Happy birthday, my love.” You say before heading back to the team.

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[sunnysideaeggs]

some criticisms i have of episode 2. read the tags first please.

disclaimer: i am a targtowers’ stan first and foremost. that means: aegon, helaena, aemond and daeron. they’re my favorite characters. that’s where my ‘loyalty’ stands. everyone else (including alicent) comes after.

helaena’s grief should’ve been a bigger point in the episode. this is HER episode and aegon’s (i’m not complaining about him but her screentime was so low). everyone else, rhaenyra, alicent, yada yada is secondary.

alicent can light up candles for her enemy’s son but can’t even attend the funeral of her grandson 🙄 she doesn’t cry, curse the blacks, want to bathe in the blood of jaehaerys’ killers, or can even bring herself to say his name.

i love aegon’s performance. i love all of his grief manifested in rage and anger. he cries but he will kick everyone later. tom go get your emmy.

girl your daughter just lost a son and you want to talk about you fucking your bodyguard. i’m tired of her. helaena is with all right of ignoring her.

once upon a time there was a boy that loved horses 😭 jaehaerys my dear

a larys/aegon scene is all i could wish for. the cold mastery of secrets and torture combined with the unstoppable wrath of a wounded man. i need more of them.

i like how the funeral seems, by all accounts, normal but by helaena’s viewpoint everything is too much. the people claim for her showing support but it’s all noise. the carriage showing her little boy so that people know who to blame but it only reminds her more of what happened. he even looks like he’s sleeping.

tbh this scene shows how rhaenyra doesn’t fucking care about helaena and her children. the first thought she had when she heard of the news wasn’t to have compassion or empathy, but to do damage control and worry about her reputation.

lmao i don’t have a clue what daemon’s intentions and rationality is. he only cares about looking mighty and dangerous to other people even when he does dumb shit, then justifies it. he lives only for other people’s opinions but then everyone hates his ass lol. dilffailure.

also he’s the embodiment of living for a dick measuring contest he ends up losing. all of daemon’s behavior can be attributed to erectile dysfunction.

how the writers found time for an oc prostitute having a mommy kink scene with aemond but didn’t have more time for a longer scene with helaena and literally anyone is beyond me.

aemond talking about his regret for luke but not about the death of his nephew 💀 luke died like three years ago condal pls get over it. aemond would care more about jaehaerys than poor little luke.

some much needed baela character development. i love characters that are like the female version of their dad but then also fucking hate their dad lol

i liked the tidbits of the dragonseeds during the episode. i’d like some nettles too :) but i guess the only female and canonically black character is a little too much for this show amirite :)

of course daemon would never be able to bend to anyone he considers inferior, much less rhaenyra, who under any other circumstance would be seen as ‘lesser than him’. it reminds him of his failures. i’m glad we’re on the same page.

aegon never had a chance right? aegon was literally raised by hightowers in love with targaryens. he never would’ve been able to surpass viserys and rhaenyra in otto and alicent’s eyes. nothing he did could’ve changed that.

otto’s little laugh cost him a job lol. i’m sad we didn’t get his cats.

the focus on rhaenyra in the arryk/erryk fight is too much for me. once again, leave secondary characters have their moments instead of shoving r or a down my throat please. this is their especial moment, their last moment. rhaenyra being all 😨🧍🏼‍♀️ between their shots does nothing for the scene.

otto’s realization of his life’s work being flushed down the drain is so touching and painful in a way to me. he’s like tywin if he lived long enough to see cersei and tommen fuck everything up.

‘i have sinned’ ‘i do not wish to hear of it’ that’s peak cersei and tywin from that one scene when she confessed the incest.

daeron exists? yay. and once again i’m fucking tired of alicent not reacting to mention of daeron, not comforting helaena, bashing aemond, ignoring aegon. where’s the love for her children?

the scene of otto putting resting his face on his hands? chills. it should’ve lingered there. showcase otto’s regret? grief? idk. pity it just lasted half a second because we needed to see alicent once more.

from now on, alicent is cancelled for me. i don’t care anymore about her. any parent that leaves their child in distress to go fuck can eat shit. i gave that treatment to daemon in laena’s funeral and i’m giving it to her.

we have more sex scenes of alicent than we have of daemon and aegon combined. yet she’s the pious queen and they’re the lechers. condal please write accordingly.

how do i watch a show when i don’t care for the two main characters, because they’re cardboard cuts of women who don’t do anything? i don’t know.

[chemicallady]

Heyyy, would you possibly be able to do a Noah Sebastian story that is like a brothers best friend dynamic? I live eat and breathe this stuff lol

I WANNA FEEL LOVE AGAIN

Couple: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: slight mention of sexual intercorse. Nothing too deep, I'm saving it for next Chapters

Summary:  you're a real mess, your life is turning into a living hell, so your brother Matt convinces you to move in with him in LA and start working for the band he's taking care of

A/N: I dont wanna spoil to much in here, because... Well, you' ll see. English is not my native language and no one peer review this ff. It's gonna be a world of fun, I already know it!

Important! I don't know Noah or Matt or any of the real people portrayed un this story. This is fictional!

Enjoy then 😏

Ouch, I've lost myself again

You've always been around, unseen. Having a brother like Matt could be a blessing and a nightmare in equal parts. You were feeded with stories about gigs and musicians while grow up with your older brother, who is dear to you in a way that actually you cant explain. Matt as always been your twin flame even if you are younger than him. You grew up looking at him with a lot of respect and it broke your heart when he left Texas, moving to California. At the time you werent ready for the big change and your brother's friend were still a bit mysterious to you.

You were used to spend as much time as possible in his company, but with this fresh start for him, you just fell into the ordinary. Nothing against your life, by the way; your parents always supporting, best friends ready to drive you to the closer pub and deliver the best night possible, a lovely boyfriend who adored you in any meaning.

You loved the shit out of Shawn. He was your person, the one always there when you were in need. Your high school sweetheart. Maybe he wasnt your first kiss or your first fuck but he was the one who made you feel like it was worthy, living for someone else. The one who pushed you to improve yourself for your own sake, that helped you in finding a job for the local tattoo shop as a piercer when the school was over.

You did everything in your power to be the best girlfriend possible. You decoreted your shared flat in the warmest way possible. You turned down a good scholarship for that college in Montana, pissing your parents and brother for this lost opportunity. You gave up to your dream to be a writer because he had to stay in Texas and take care of his mom. You helped him through the loss, when she die.

But it wasn't enough.

You loved the shit out of Shawn and he loved you in return, but it wasn't enough.

Your relationship suffered a slow, agonizing death with multiple attempt of reanimation. Vacations togheter, a bigger flat, a cat.

Nothing compensate the distance between the two of you and he was the one brave enough to call it for a quit. You knew was gonna happen but it didn't hurt you less. Moving back to your parents, while quitting your job just to avoid to meet him everyday, took you to the bottom. Then the shutdown decided to kick you while you were already down, spending days in bed just listen music or watching anime whitout any chance to go out with your friends or for just a walk.

Everyone was really worried about you. You lose weight and that energy that always marked you.

And you stayed there, drowing in your own misery until Matt decided that enough was enough.

《 Pack your shit, you're moving in with me to LA. You're done making mom and pops that upset.》

The end of fall 2021 signed your rebirth. Matt found a bigger apartment for the two of you and Lucifurr, your vicious black cat which has an obsession in chewing cables and destroy everything paper made. You have always want to leave nearby the ocean and Malibu had a ton of opportunities to offer you. You started a yoga class the same week you moved, in order to make some new friends. Accoding to Matt, there are a lot of things to do around the band he is working with, Bad Omens.

You offer yourself as a merchgirl, but since you're a good writer an even better in tolerate people bullshit (you have to be karmatic, all the teens who came to get a piercing to the shop have always made a scene in front of needles), you could be perfect as a PR/assistant for the band. You remember them barely because someway somehow, these are the guys who steal all the time Matt has. Time that you never get.

You remember this four guys with long hair, basic metalheads, except for the drummer. You remember when you gave him the nostril after a show in 2015, maybe 16, and he took it like a champ whitout complaining. You remember the singer, this slenderman type of guy with beautiful long hair that looks like silk. You've never felt more envy of someone else hair like that. And also the other three guys were nice, especially Vincent. The only one who you can connect to a familiar face because you two got a nice conversation on tattoos when you visited Matt, three years ago.

They are nice.

You've heard stories about them at every phone call.

But still, thieves of precious moments that you want have again in your life again between you and your brother.

All the missing birthday, all the call postponed due to technical issues. He wasn't there to pick up your pieces when Shawn get a rid of you.

And Matt wasn't supposed to, but being selfish, you wish he was there.

But he is now and this is enough to bring the light back to your life. The long talks after dinner, movie nights, everything is back to the normal between you two since you moved and it's restoring.

With this wave of good mood, even if you havent forgotten Shawn yet, you enroll to gym, so you can work out after yoga.

And is in this specific place that you meet Eric.

The first time you caught him lurking at you you were running on the thremill.

There is something familiar in him but still, you dont know anyone in LA. You were the one who actually landed the first conctact with this new alien subject, so introvert to avoid your eyes.

《 Today is hot as hell, right?》

Talking about the weather is the easiest card to play. He smiled a bit shily to you before answering. 《 Don't tell me, I hate how hot is in here. Are you new? I've never seen you around》

《 I just moved in with my brother, actually. 》

《 You're a southie for sure. I like your accent.》

You giggle at his words, while he gets some confidence, passing a hand through this short hair. 《 you got me. You don't sound californian as well》.

《 Maybe because I'm not》. There was a moment in which he seemed to be doubtful, like he changed his mind and he didn't want actually to talk with you. He looked at you with a weird expression, like he realised something was off. 《 What's your name?》, he asked then, almost suspicious.

And then you lied. You rarely give your real name to strangers. A self defence mechanism for girls. 《 Vanessa. You?》

He looked more relaxed, 《 Eric.》

《 Nice to meet you Eric... Do you know a nice bar around? 》

《 Maybe I know a place 》 he reflected, smiling a bit malicious. He was definitely flirting. 《 Can offer you a beer or something? Just to welcome you in town.》

You are not ready for a new story yet, but after almost a year after you broke up with Shawn, you needed at least some human conctact. Eric was nice with you since the beginning. He invited you to this dive bar after the gym a couple of times, not far from your place. He paid for you a couple of cocktails while having a real nice Conversation. A superficial one, about the tattoos that covered him. About living in LA. You mentioned your brother a couple of times and he talked about his roomates and all the crazy things they have done during the pandemic.

He told you he is a Producer and you told him you're still unemployed.

One way or another, he got closer to you in a matter of days. And when he kissed you, you obliged and kiss him back. One thing leaded to another and the two of you ended fucking in the back of his SUV. And oh boy... you needed it so much. It was a quickie, but he seemed to be promising. His long fingers stimulated you untill you cried out for pleasure. His mounth divoured you inch by inch. And his cock....

He knew how to use it, let's say that.

After, he gave you his number and the two of you planned to see each other by the end of the week, at the gym, after your yoga class and his class of jujitsu....

The morning after you're fresh and relaxed like you weren't in months. Matt tends to be overprotective so you didn't told him about Eric while you were having breakfast. You need to know this guys deeply before accept that you know have a situationship. And your brother doesn't need to know about you screacting you itchies.

He has a hot temper when someone looks at his dear little sis.

After breakfast you got ready to meet the band again after almost three years.

《 I can't believe Vincent quitted. He was the nicest.》

Matt sighs while driving to the guys' house, mentally focused on the traffic. 《 youll see him when we'll be in Virginia, don't worry. 》

Your eyes slip on streets and houses, wards and parks but you still feel like You're in a new country. You don't know how much it will take to get used to California.

《 here we are》 , Matt says, parking. 《 let's refresh the rules.》

《 Oh c'mon, I'm not twelve anymore》

《 y/n 》

《 alright! I don't have to embarrass you while you're free to be mean on me. I don't have to embarrass myself talking shit just because I'm nervous and if the music sucks, I can't tell your precious Noah.》

《 You can do better but, more or less, that's it. Lets go. I need another coffe and maybe something sweet before start to film the music video. 》

It's so weird filming inside a house and not in a proper set but all this low budget bullshit are quite the normal for small bands, you think.

You have to be their assistant and eventually a PR- so Matt can stop to bitching on twitter all the time- and you know nothing about bands.

According to Matt, you're going to learn quick.

According to Matt. You know that he picked you up for the job so he can force you to write what he wants.

And continuing to bitch around through you.

The guitar player greets you at the door and introduces himself again as Jolly. The rest of the guys minus Noah are in the garage. It's marvelous how Orie, one of the guys who lives here, a director, reorganize the space with tubes and flashlight.

《 What's the name of the song, again? 》 you ask to Nick Folio, whos already youre favorite.

《 Artifical Suicide》 it's the answer, while he takes his place back behind the drums.

《So emo》 it's your honest observation that makes him laught. Matt looks at you in a way that if he could, you would be incinerated where you're standing. You're already embarrassing him.

Nice.

You regret nothing.

It's a lil sister job to make her brother in troubles, that's what pops always says.

Mike brings you a coffe that you accept with a smile, than tells everyone the news about the singer that is still not here.

A diva, of course. That's your first thought. Every singer is a natural diva.

《 He is still looking for the glove.》

《 He would lost his head if it wasn't attacked to his neck》 , a solid comment arrives from Ruffilo, immediatly followed by an annoyed reply from behind you.

《 I can ear you motherfucker. You are- what the fuck?》

You turn in time to face the famous singer and almost choke with the coffe.

《 Yo Noah, do you remember my sister, y/n?》

You see Noah turning pale for a second while trying to say something in return.

You're also speechless for a second, before putting your shit togheter so Matt wont finds out in the first five minutes. 《 Howdy! You... you cut your hair. Nice. I didn't know》

You didn't.

That's why was so easy for Noah to be Eric for almost a week. For a hook up with you. His best friend sister.

....Splendid.

You're fucked.

[goodgirlsdoithisway]

The danger of friends and family.

Coming into my place as a woman has been difficult. I've been a feminist most of my life, believing I need to be free and do as I please. I surrounded myself with like-minded people, and kept pushing on even though I was suffering. These people had me convinced that I was unhappy because women have been "oppressed" by the patriarchy, and I just needed to rise above.

Here's the problem with this train of thought. Not everyone is capable or has the correct tools to survive alone in this world. Some people need structure and guidance to live. Most women fall into this category. Sure, we can do it, but it's incredibly hard, incredibly stressful, and it's a lifelong investment to work hard instead of smart.

Then, I looked into tradwife material. I started looking at how happy these women were. Sure, you occasionally see the sad ones living this life, but they are just full of resistance, like I was. These women made life look fun. What girl doesn't want to have a life where they don't have to worry about money, or politics, or drama? No internal struggles, just the calm acceptance of giving yourself to something bigger. A man.

My friends and family all called me out on this, saying I'm being red pilled. I told them I'm still committed to diversity and I love everybody, and I know I have the option to chase whatever dream I want, and that this was my dream. Not a single one believed in me. A few stopped talking to me altogether. I mean, I'm fucking trans for fucks sake. It's not like accepting my place under men means I'm all of a sudden A Trump supporter. No thank you, although I do hope to see some things revolving around women to pass, either way. We shouldn't be allowed to vote, hold jobs, or go anywhere without a man. Hell, Afghanistan just passed a law where no woman is allowed to speak in public, or to another woman at all. This would be great. No more toxicity spreading like wildfire, hurting our true place.

It's crazy how, when you go against the grain, you get demonized. It took its toll. I started thinking it was just a stupid fantasy I was grabbing onto because I wasn't working hard enough to make my life mine.

Then, with those few friends gone now, I started to realize I was feeling great in those moments I was embodying serving men. And without those extra comments, I was starting to be able to ignore the others saying those things. And as I cut more people off, I felt so much better. I felt deep inside that this was the right path. I knew that serving men was what I was created to do. It was like a certainty.

So I started reading more about it, embodying it, envisioning it. I set those feminist views aside and really devoted myself...I'm never going back.

Friends are toxic to a trad relationship. Family are toxic to a trad relationship. Even other trad wives can be turned, and in turn, turn you. Feminism is powerful because it promises unattainable visions of freedom. Friends and family can exacerbate that and poison your mind. When you devote yourself to this lifestyle, which I believe all women should, the adjustment is rough because there's so much propaganda out there, manipulating you into giving up the biggest, best, most fulfilling life a woman can have, a life of dedicated servitude.

It would be perfect to have a man who lives off grid with no electricity, no phone, no outside communication. To be taken by him, to his home, never allowed to leave or have visitors so that I may focus solely on Him would be the perfect life. Imagine forgetting people exist outside of Him. The only person you'll ever see again is the one you serve. No jealous friends to try to take you away or poison your mind. No family to pretend they know what's best for you. No. Only Him.

[kseung]

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Coffeen't

Requested.

Warnings: Coffee addiction :(, none more tho

Words: HC-126~, Drabble-844~, Both: 970~

I didn't know whether to write the HC or the Drabble, so I did both.

HC:

•You love coffee

•You love coffee

•Yet, you love Wednesday more

•It's an addiction, honestly

•At first, Wednesday was glad you weren't being soul-sucked by the abyss that social media is

•But that was NOT better than finding out you, at most, get 3 hours of sleep

•And why? Coffee!

•She tries to get you to sleep at less-demonic hours

•Shes is not able to

•Hardest challenge ever

•Hyde? Trainer boss. You? Final boss.

•She tried to get you decaf coffee once. Never again.

•Bit by bit, you started drinking less coffee

•But you still weren't having 5 hours minimum, so she created a plan. Once you knew you wouldn't reject

•"Cuddle me."

•"What?"

•"Cuddle. Me. Don't make me repeat it."

•So you did.

•Best sleep ever.

Drabble:

You love coffee. You really love coffee. Everyone knew. Even those who weren't your friends. It was evident. Every day you are seen drinking at least 2 coffees. Americano, you say, but with the number of extra shots in there maybe it doesn't count as an Americano anymore.

—You should stop drinking that much coffee.

You looked at Wednesday, almost offended. Enid and Ajax eyed you for a while before returning to whatever lovey-dovey stuff they were doing. She stared, trying to intimidate you. As a challenge, she took your coffee so it could be safely away from you.

—I will not. You drink quads, little hypocrite. You're not so good yourself.

—Say that again and I'll break your hands.

—I mean, you sure love it when I-

She elbowed your side with force, making your grin become bigger. She knows how to kick ass. And it showed. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were in a bit of pain.

—No need to be so violent in public, Wednesday. We can leave that to your room if you-

She gave you your stupid coffee so you could shut up.

•••••

—I'm relieved you are not being indoctrinated by the endless pit of darkness social media is, but, please, stop drinking so much coffee! I can't tell now what I'd dislike more.

—It's not that bad!

—"It's not that bad", you say? You barely sleep 3 hours.

—I wouldn't sleep much anyway, you know.

—You still shouldn't drink that much coffee. It only gives you anxiety.

—At least it gives me mild anxiety. I wouldn't be able to live your life. It'd stress me out too much. Maybe I'd end up drinking double the coffee I do now.

—Don't be difficult.

—I'm just tryna defend my habit.

—Stupidly so—, Wednesday said. You agreed, smiling. It made her annoyed, which made you want to laugh.

—I won't drink more coffee today, don't worry about it.

She eyed you, and nodded. Classes were just continuing, so you went your separate ways.

•••••

You tried. You really tried. But "you really liked the taste," that's what you said. Perhaps it was only the chemical effect of caffeine on your body, or the addiction you were quite sure you had developed.

—I made this one with milk, and just one espresso. It's barely coffee—, you sulked. Wednesday wasn't as annoyed.

—At least you considered your health this time.

You hadn't...

—Yeah... well. As much as I like coffee, I know I should drink more water—.You shrugged and continued drinking. Wednesday sighed.

•••••

After some days of trying to drink less coffee, sleeping earlier, and having decaf, nothing changed. Your sleep schedule was that bad. It made you laugh in pity.

—I swear that if you don't sleep anytime soon I'll be the one putting you to sleep. Permanently.

You jumped in surprise. You hadn't expected Wednesday to wake up. Your head was too busy buried down in a book to check if she was asleep. You closed the book, placing it softly on your desk. When you turned around Wednesday was already glaring at you while sitting up.

—Sorry. I couldn't sleep.

You got up, slowly pushing your chair so it'd be put away. You toned down your lamp until it barely illuminated. It was nice having something other than darkness once in a while.

—It's 2:47 a.m. Lie down. Here—. She moved to her left a bit, then placing her right hand on top of your bedding.

That was an odd invitation, but maybe it was just because; it was your dorm, not hers, which meant no Enid; you had no roommate, so it was peaceful there. It meant she could be the tiniest bit more emotional when she was there.

—Right up.

You weren't complaining about that. Usually, when Wednesday stayed the night, she'd sleep on your bed and not question when and where you slept. You just had some naps here and there, on the desk chair. But she had no business knowing that.

You laid down next to her, stiff like a corpse next to another corpse.

—Loosen up. You won't ever sleep if you stay like that—, she said. Weird. It's odd seeing her be caring. —Else, I'd have no option but to hold you until you sleep.

—Are you saying you will cuddle with me, Wednesday?—, you asked playfully.

She responded with silence, as usual when you tease her. You kept silent too, staring at what you could, barely, make out of the ceiling. You heard a faint "hmm" before you felt an arm wrap itself around you, as light as a feather. You saw Wednesday staring back at you, clearly embarrassed. It was lovely.

You turned to your side, making her see your back. But of course, only to have her hug you tighter. You held her hand in yours as she embraced you. You beat her to her own game despite being tired now.

—No words. Night.

—Sleep well.

That you did, thanks to your very sweet girlfriend.