#i wonder if this is going to shorten the season?

[a9saga]

I can't believe the entire cast of big brother agrees not to use slurs while in the house and in the first week of the show this absolute quack drops the n word in front of a black houseguest after talking about a different black houseguest and gets ejected before the first eviction

[elliewithcellie]

Lean On Me

summary: Steve needs someone to lean on, too

wc: 1.2k

cw: ANGST, Steve yells at you, curse words, you comfort Steve, gn!reader, let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: first fic in a minute, and it's barely more than a blurb. I was inspired by a tiktok that said "if i don't see steve cry in season 5 i will riot" and i was like dude yes. I thought I would explore that a little but it turned more into just a hugfest. Either way, here it is.

It wasn’t until Steve dropped off the last of the kids that you noticed a slight change in his demeanor. You supposed he was quieter than usual, but the gang was so rowdy that it was hard for any of you to get a word in edge-wise. Otherwise, it was a meetup like any other. But now, with only the two of you left, Steve’s silence was astounding. Cicadas took silence’s place, chirping the last of their summer song. The streetlamp above flickered in rhythm, serving as the only light illuminating Steve’s solemn face. You dared to unstick your legs from the warm leather of the passenger seat, the sound disrupting his thoughts.

His eyes met yours and smiled, a strained effort in the lines of his face. His eyes were wide, searching for something, and you could tell he couldn’t find it in you.

“You all set?” he asked.

“I’m ready if you are.”

He nodded and pulled out into the road.

“I’m really glad we did this,” you said. “It’s always so good to see everyone again. It feels like home.”

He only hummed in response.

The tires treading over the road filled the voided conversation. Shadowed trees and homes remained your view from the window. You were scared that something happened, that something you did might have bothered him. You ventured to look at him again. His posture stayed upright and rigid, both hands on the wheel. His grip was tight, the tendons taking shape in his hold. His left foot bounced sporadically, and his chest rose and fell in deliberate breaths. And his eyes. His eyes raced frantically like he was reading, his eyebrows pinching together. He bit his bottom lip as if fighting something from getting through. There was something he was holding back. Something was wrong.

The car pulled up to your apartment complex. You opened the car door and paused to look back at Steve. His head was down, his eyebrows still furrowed.

“Steve?”

He looked up at you, a haze falling across his features, his eyes glassy, but the pained smile persisting.

“Would you like to come up? It’s still early, and I’ve been dying to make some cookies. I could use some help eating them all in one sitting.”

Steve chuckled to your surprise. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure.”

You both made your way up to your place, your heart racing with every bound up the stairs. You headed straight for the kitchen, and Steve followed you, opting for the stool by the counter.

You tried not to let Steve distract you. It was just premade dough, after all. But his energy filled the confines of your home, swallowing up your serenity and spitting out sorrow. It shook you. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t him. You were desperate to help him, and it seemed cookies weren’t going to be enough.

“Steve?” you tried. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

You bit your lip. “It—it’s just that you’ve been really quiet today, and I’m just wondering if something happened or—”

“I told you. It’s nothing.” Steve’s breaths shortened, refusing to look at you.

“Are you sure? You know you can—”

“ENOUGH!” Steve jolted up from his chair. “If I wanted to talk, don’t you think I would have fucking talked by now? Jesus Christ!”

You flinched at his words. You were privy to his sarcastic, snide one-liners, but this was new.

Steve took a step back. His hands rattled at his sides, and his breaths shook with each exhale. His voice trembled as he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking another step back. “I shouldn’t—I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just tired. I—I should go.”

A million thoughts scrambled in your head. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to comfort him, but he scared you. He already snapped at you once. Continuing to pry when he may need to cool off could be detrimental. But you needed him to know that he could trust you with whatever was bothering him. You decided to tread carefully.

“If you want to go,” you spoke softly, “you can go. But whatever it is you’re dealing with, whatever it is you’re holding onto, you don’t have to deal with it alone. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. But tell me. I know you, Steve. I know when something’s wrong. So please don’t lie to me.”

Steve stood still. Every muscle in his body tensed, his eyes frantic, his breathing short and shallow. He bit the inside of his cheek as if in a last-ditch effort to fight his consuming thoughts. Then his posture changed. His shoulders sank, his lip trembled, and he looked away.

“I…I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

And he cried. He wept in the entryway of your home, something you had never seen in your life. You rounded the kitchen counter and pulled Steve into your arms. He held you tight, his whole body shaking you. Tears soaked your shirt, but you didn’t care. Your hand found itself in his hair in an effort to soothe him.

Steve pushed out of your arms and wiped his now rouged face. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your job. I can handle this.”

“What? Not my job? Steve—”

“I gotta go.”

He turned to leave. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Bullshit, it’s not my job.” Your voice remained calm and kind. “You think that since you’re the self-proclaimed ‘babysitter,’ that no one’s supposed to have your back?”

“I’m supposed to be the tough one,” he said. “These kids have been through hell. They’re all counting on me to take care of them!”

“You’ve gone through hell, too! I know you have. Bottling it up is going to kill you.” You held his hands in yours and pulled him closer. “I know you’re tough. You’re the strongest person I know. But bearing the load of anything alone will weigh you down. So, please. Let me help you. What can I do to help?”

A tear fell past his cheek as his lip began to tremble. He pulled you in for a hug this time, shivering against your touch.

“I really don’t want to talk,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“That’s ok. I’m sorry I pushed. I just hate seeing you like this.”

He squeezed you tighter in a wordless reply.

You pulled away, now, and wiped some tears from his face. “How about this. I’ll finish making the cookies while you find what channel is playing Full House.”

Steve’s face shifted from sadness to disdain. “Full House?”

You chuckled. “What? It’s a feel-good show!”

He rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile at the Steve you knew slowly returning.

The two of you completed your roles, and before you knew it, Steve and you found comfort in your couch, his head in your lap, and your hand on his heart.

Steve’s silence stayed steadfast, the background noise of the Tanner’s taking its place. But this time, you didn’t mind. His breaths were relaxed, rising and falling to a steady beat. His hand found itself resting on your shin, playing mindlessly with the elastic of sweatpants. And his eyes. His eyes were calm for the first time this evening. You knew the war wasn’t over, but you were thankful you at least won this battle.

[buddiebeginz]

Saw this had to share with you… Exactly what I thought during the medal ceremony.

Thanks for sending this my way. Great tweet.

You have to remember that pretty much everything is done with intention on a tv show especially when it's a shortened season like this. If B/T were really important to Tim and he was trying to get the audience really on board with them not to mention set things up for next season I think he'd have done a lot more with them.

He wouldn't have even needed to use up a lot of extra time to do it either. He could done things like have Buck and T*mmy in background scenes together where they're leaning in close to talk to one another. Or have them making comments to one another or others that connect them. Like when Buck was watching Chris he could have had Buck sending a text to T*mmy or have Eddie ask Buck something about T*mmy just anything so Buck talks about him.

Also at the award ceremony we could have had a scene where it panned to T*mmy when Buck got his award and instead it panned to Eddie. We also had T*mmy being kind of a downer (again) when Buck was talking to him after they received their awards instead of them having cute banter or planning a date or anything.

I have to wonder what the general audience thinks about B/T vs Buddie because it's not B/T we're seeing having these long emotional talks or cutsey flirty moments it's Buddie. The last time we even saw B/T doing anything coupley was when they kissed in 7x06 but earlier in the same ep at the bachelor party T*mmy was also kind of a dick. They had their coffee date in 7x05 which you could say was flirty with the hand holding but before that was the disaster date. And 7x04 was mostly about Buddie. Even with the kiss scene Buck talks about Eddie before and after. I just don't see where people are seeing this this amazing couple with this great storyline in B/T because it's not what is actually on screen.

I just feel like everything we've seen thus far is telling us that B/T are not on the same page. That while they might have some chemistry physically they don't when it comes to a full fledged romantic relationship. If Tim wanted us to be invested in this ship and by the s7 finale for the audience to see how much B/T's relationships has grown we would see that by now and we haven't.

Even in the scene where Buck talks about T*mmy to Bobby Buck isn't the one who brings him up it's Bobby. I also think we're seeing some signs that Buck might not be too certain about whatever is going on with him and T*mmy because he seemed to be looking for some kind reasurrence about it from Bobby.

I think even if B/T make it into s8 T*mmy will continue to be a placeholder until Buddie happens. Tbh I don't see that being a long term ship for Buck at all even if Eddie never comes out (though I think he will). Oliver and Lou just don't have that kind of chemistry (as was more than apparent in that interview) and I think that might also play a factor in why we haven't seen them together more this season.

[moonflower91]

i need more saerah!!! (im begging you 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

Ask, and I will! (takes place directly after season 2 episode 8)

The Queen Dowager's Daughter

It began as a whisper, a rumor whispered to her closely by one of the Kingsguard at the Council table. She only sat at it, listening to the dwindling members of their Small Council, because Aemond instead chose to rage at his own humiliation and her mother had taken ill. 

Or so she’d been told by Maester Orwyle. She had no reason to question him, for what reason could there be? 

But, her mother’s ladies maids told differently, that the Queen Dowager could not be found, not in the Keep nor the Great Sept, (though the entire royal family had avoided the place since that wretched riot). Quietly, she had them look elsewhere, to the kitchens and rookeries and library and gardens, but still, the Queen Dowager was not found. 

Saerah kept her face tight, and calm, casting a look about the table. She would not fret, not before these men, not while she was alone. Truly, she had no one. Aegon was abed, and her husband was away on Vhagar. 

Only two remained of their once strong council…the rest had gone, to the sickbed or to war, or even banished, like her poor grandfather. But, her eyes remained fixed on Maester Orwyle, watching as his hands worried themselves together, his eyes locked on anything but the Prince Regent’s wife. Only two moons past, he had been the one to confirm that her husband’s seed had taken root, and now she watched him, heart growing sick with suspicion. 

Who else must they lose in this war? Already, Otto and Aegon and Criston and half of Aegon’s guardsmen to the Wall. The commonfolk’s loyalty was starting to waver in the face of starvation thanks to Rhaenyra, and yet it was the Greens they blamed. 

“You look uncomfortable, Grand Maester.” She noted, straightening in her chair–the king’s chair, which had previously been held by her husband, and before that, her mother. “Could it be the same illness of the belly you found in my mother?” She tilted her head, and with a strike of fear, Maester Orwyle saw how much like her brother-husband she looked. Sharp and dangerous, like a cat who plays with their prey well before striking the killing blow. He knew well it would not serve him to lie to her a second time. But the truth laid thick on his tongue. 

 “Your Grace, I...I have served House Targaryen under the service of the Hightowers for two generations.” 

“Yes, you have. You have our thanks, and more directly, you have mine.” And that was true, she did feel grateful for his service. The man had always been kind to her, and he had attended her mangled brother most diligently and saved his life, however shortened it might be now. “And I do not doubt your good intentions. But I ask you, where is my mother?” 

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

It was nearly a fortnight since Alicent’s retreat to Dragonstone, and the moment Saerah heard of a ship arriving in the harbor, a woman with rich brown hair and a fine blue cloak aboard, Saerah found herself watching from the battlements. She watched the ship breaking into the bay, slowing its sail towards the docks, rooting itself to the iron moors, its passengers disembarking. The scowl never left her face. 

Saerah waited a day and night to see her fool mother, part of her not wanting to look upon her for fear of what unkindness may escape her mouth, the other, wanting the Queen Dowager to wonder what Saerah might be plotting. 

When she finally arrived at Alicent’s chambers, she ordered her maids to leave without any preamble. Then, she asked where she had taken off without her permission to go. 

“I am your mother, girl, you do not allow me to do anything.” Although her words were harsh, Alicent’s voice carried a softness, a weariness that sunk deep into her bones. But Saerah was past caring, already stretched a hundred different ways without Aemond here to take the half of it. 

“You are my mother and I am acting ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. And we are at war. You do not leave the bedchamber without my permission.” The room was quiet, the air thick. Alicent looked at her as though she were a stranger and did not answer at once like a lesser person might. 

“I went to Rhaenyra. To broker a deal of peace between our families. This war will consume us all before it is over. It must end now, before we are all destroyed.”

“What?” Saerah murmured, too struck to truly utter anything else. A long while passed them in silence, Alicent watched warily as her daughter paced. She had always thought her youngest girl was soft and sweet, but truly, she had just as much fire as her brother. “What was said?”

“Rhaenyra will take Kings Landing, and we will allow her.” She said at last, the truth hanging heavy on her heart. “Aemond will see the war lost and surrender.”

“He would rather die in attempting to take Kings Landing back.” Saerah replied. 

“He is not a fool. He must see to reason if he wants to live to see his child born.” Saerah’s hand went to her belly then, and she stepped farther away from Alicent, as though to protect her middle. 

“How are we to trust you now, mother? You’ve gone to treat our enemies, alone spouting off gods know what to that bitch.” It was unbecoming of a woman of her station to use such coarse language, but Saerah was past caring for genteel words, especially about the woman she’d come to hate. “You know she means to kill us all, Aegon and Aemond at the very least. Your own sons, that you carried and birthed.”

Alicent’s silence cut through like a knife.   

“You do know that don’t you? Did you…did you try to stay her hand at all?” More silence, and Saerah’s heart broke in a way she had never thought possible. “You didn’t.” Horror rose like bile within Saerah. “You…you agreed to let that woman  kill my brother, already laying broken in his bed, and my husband too?”

“I agreed to an arrangement that will end the pain and bloodshed being wrought throughout the lands. Amongst the smallfolk and our family.” 

“By taking the heads of even more members of our family? Was Jaehaerys not enough!? Do you hate your own children  that much? I know Father humiliated you for twenty years, but I never thought that anger and resentment would bleed down to your own children!” 

“It has–it has not.” Alicent pleaded, her voice choked and tears welling in her eyes. Still, she would not face Saerah, not yet. “I love all of my children with all my heart, and would fight to the last to defend them.”

“Except you haven’t! That bitch will march on us soon, and I doubt the blood of little Jaehaerys will have been enough to slake her desire for blood.”  Saerah shook her head, turned away from her mother, muttering as she did. “No, no, she is proud and arrogant, wanting Aemond tortured for saying what we all know is the truth about her litter of brown haired mongrels.” She turned back to her mother. “She will kill us all in our beds! Cut my babe from my womb!” 

“It will not come to that. There is time still before then, for Rhaenyra to change her mind.” 

“You have such faith in that woman, that woman just a year past you named a whore with naught but bastards and ill-sired trueborns. How quickly the winds change when the object of your hatred is gone and only his forgotten children remain.” 

“I do.” The Queen Dowager’s head snapped to face her daughter, but even then, her eyes were filled with a sadness none could heal. “I do love you. Just as much as I love Aegon. And Aemond. As much as Helaena and Daeron. Each of you owns a piece of my heart.”

Saerah sighed. Somehow, her vow made her heart ache even more, so much so that to cut the damned organ out would have been kinder. “And yet you toss us aside for what? Peace?” She sneered the word like a vile curse. “What peace will you know once all your children are dead? Daemon and Rhaenyra and even foolish, sullen little Jacerys cannot allow us to live to challenge them. It is as you always said. Always told us, and  now it will come to pass.”

“Rhaenyra is not cruel. She will turn to reason, to cease further pain. She is her father’s daughter.”

“She is also Daemon’s wife. The man who beat a woman to death with his bare hands. Mercy will not come for Aegon, nor for Aemond. You know this well, you’ve been talking about it my entire life and before. And me and Helaena, who bore our husbands children? They will either kill us quietly or sell us to the lowest bidder. We shall be forced into other men’s beds, either far from court or forced to suffer beneath the eyes of those who once called paid us deference as princesses and queens.”

Alicent turned away. Her daughter had just spoken all the fears she had no heart to put into words and it broke her heart. The faith she had in Rhaenyra and her promises were  all she had left to cling to. What she must cleave to so she could believe her choices, the sacrifices she had made, would be worth the cost. All she wanted for her family, her daughters and their children at the very least, was the chance to live in peace until they were old and gray, far from Court, far from dangers and plots and marriages they did not want. 

In this hope, there existed something sweet, something fresh and pure that she had not tasted since she was a girl. Freedom. 

But what if her faith failed her once more? Well, Saerah had already laid bare what could be expected then. 

“You say you love us, that each of us owns a part of your heart. But it is Rhaenyra who owns the whole of it isn’t she? That is why you hated her so long, because you loved her still”.

“I love you, daughter. I may not always have loved you as you deserved, and I have many failings to my name, but do not doubt that you, and your brothers and sister, own more of my heart than any other in this world.” Finally, Alicent  turned to her child, her little Saerah, softly swelling with her own child. She had always worn her hair down, she noted then. Her silver hair brushed the very top of her belly, and gave her a sweet look of innocence about her. Even her eyes, which were filled with sadness and tears, held a softness about them, a child full of assurance from their mother. 

Alicent wanted to feel happy, to feel proud of the woman she’d grown into. But truly, she had no hand in it. Saerah had grown into a woman without her, but always she would remember the first moment she’d heard her cry. The first moment she held her in her arms. The first moment the little babe  smiled up at her. 

Her baby, her daughter. And now the woman that babe had become looked at her with such malice, like she wished to burn Alicent with the dragon flame all the Targaryens wielded as threat and sword.

“You are no mother of mine.” Saerah whispered, her eyes welling with tears. When she spoke next, her words sounded strangled as she struggled to talk past the lump in her throat. “My child will not die for your weakness. Or, rather worse, your foolish love for that woman. A childhood fantasy you value so much more than the children you brought forth into this world. Rhaenrya, at least, stood unyielding in defending her bastards. But you, you abandon your true born sons and daughters so easily for her.” Saerah shook her head, as though shaking away the hurt as a duck does to water from its wing. “You understand then, why it is so easy to think you hate us?” 

Alicent drew in a shaking breath, and reached for Saerah as the younger woman rushed past her towards the door. “Saerah…”

“Guards! Take my mother and have her confined to chambers.” At that, the men stopped and shifted from foot to foot, looking between the Queen Mother and her daughter. 

“Your Grace? She’s the queen…”

“Queen Dowager. No more important than a common lady of the court. I am the Prince Regent’s wife, who has left me to rule in his stead while he is gone from the Capitol.” Already tired, already angry and hurt, she stepped closer to the young man, fixing him with a cold, hollow look that made him turn his eyes downward. Still, Saerah did not relent. “I am ordering you to confine her to chambers for crimes against the Crown. If you hesitate again, I will make His Grace’s treatment of the worm that took his son’s life appear as mercy.” This time, the young man did not hesitate to take the former queen’s arm in hand and pull her towards the door. 

Alone once more, Saerah rested her hands on the table, letting her head drop but forced away the tears. No use weeping for a traitor. Had she been anyone else, Vexxa would have burned her. But what moral could be raised if she burned her own mother alive? 

---------

“I know you do not wish to burn anyone. I ask not that of you. But I beg you, take Dreamfyre to flight, go to Aemond, and all I ask you tell him I beg for his return.” Helaena only looked at her, neither annoyed nor angry and Saerah continued on. "The maester says I cannot fly in my condition. And someone must be here to control the masses. Please, please Helaena."

[texasbama]

9-1-1 Season 7 Yearbook Edition

Thank you to the amazing cast & crew of our little wee woo show. This shortened season was a true grind for everybody involved and they worked tirelessly to bring us season 7. While we celebrate the end of another wonderful season, I also pray that the hardworking crew members have their demands met this summer and that going into production for season 8, they are in a safer worker environment. No tv show is worth someone's life.

Rest in Peace Rico🤍

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac #4 : Lil guy vs storm

Chapter 4 here we go, my finals are almost ending so I have more time now. Mac doesn't do well in storms, luckily he has a local Monkey King ready to make him feel better.

Sun Wukong was by nature a monkey of summer. His undercoat was thin, almost nonexistent, made for heated weather. He was also fond of the sun, not because of some sort of narcissistic tendency, but because he loved to nap in warmed grass. As such, he always thought of the other seasons as the lesser ones, he didn't loathe them per see, but he thought nothing of them. Now though, he was beginning to hate winter, not because of the cold or the shortened days, but because he hadn't seen his lil roommate since winter began.

Macaque was a closeted person, he didn't reveal much about himself, more than once he prefered tricking the sage over engaging in any sort of conversation with him. But still, he at least ate the fruits Sun Wukong left behind for him. Now though, since the beginning of winter, the fruits were left untouched no matter the kind, and no matter where the sage put them. It was as if the lil guy wasn't even leaving the walls of the mansion anymore. Sun Wukong wondered, for a second, if he was in hibernation. He hadn't heard of any sort of monkey needing hibernation, but the world was vast and Macaque was the first of his kind he ever saw. He did know of the existence of little people, the fae-people were reputed to be particularly small, but he never heard of a monkey, specifically, being this small. And he usually knew a lot about monkeys.

The sage was staring at one of his mansion's wall, wondering if Macaque would forgive him if he tore it down. He knew it was dramatic, and that he shouldn't be this worried, but still he couldn't help it. He hated being powerless in the face of his own worry. Sun Wukong sighed and picked up the plum pieces he cut for the lil guy yesterday, they were left untouched. Plums were supposed to be Macaque's favorites, his lil ears always fluttered in joy when he ate a plum, it was disheartening to see the fruit uneated. The sage softly knocked on the wall, trying to reach the black-furred macaque, but like always he was left unanswered. Sun Wukong's gaze fell on the wooden cabinet put beside his wooden bench in one corner of the living room. He knew one of Macaque’s holes, or gates as he called them, was inside the cabinet. They were always in the most shadowed corner of the house, behind furniture or inside a cupboard. The sage had been quite impressed when he discovered such a delicate network of gates inside his own mansion. Of course, Sun Wukong wasn't aware of all the gates inside of his mansion, but he managed to discover a good portion. He was at least partially sure that he knew of all the gates on the first floor.

Sun Wukong bit his lips, some part of him wanted to shrink and slip inside of the wall to search for Macaque, but another part of him frowned in disgust at the idea, not wanting to invade his lil roommate's privacy. He didn't want to ignore Macaque's boundaries, but at the same time he wanted to make sure the other was fine. The sage left after a few minutes of lingering, heart heavy inside of his chest.

He ultimately decided that he would go inside of the walls if he had no sign of life after another week.

He finally saw Macaque four days after, in the dead of the night, during the beginning of a particularly brewing storm. Sun Wukong was in the living room, coddled against his troop as they waited for the storm to end. They created a large nest with all the soft fabrics (not eaten by time) they managed to find. The living room was the largest room of the mansion, mainly because it merged with the adjoining kitchen (there was no wall between both rooms, creating a very vast space). Sun Wukong lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the kitchen, something was in there. He decided to leave the nest once he saw the very familiar outline of a shadowed body. He passed by the stone table put between the living room and the kitchen and approached the lil guy rummaging through his cupboards.

Of course, it was Macaque. The lil guy wasn't dressed in his usual leaves, instead he was wrapped in a thick reddish fabric, something the sage recognized after a few seconds, it was a piece of the curtain hanging in the east wing of the mansion. He was cutting pieces out of some lingering plums with his claws, and putting them inside of his leaf bag.

Usually Macaque instantly knew when he was approaching, this time though the black-furred monkey didn't even flinch when the sage stepped in the kitchen. Sun Wukong furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the macaque's odd behavior.

“You're okay there lil bud?” Asked Sun Wukong, as quietly as he could to not startle the lil guy and awaken his slumbering troop. Macaque flinched and stilled for a few seconds, he turned towards him with something akin to shame swirling in his eyes. He looked rough, to say the least. His fur was a mess and there was a lingering red in the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, just hungry.” Mumbled Macaque, he threw a worried glance at one of the nearby windows and fastened his bag, ready to leave. Sun Wukong opened his mouth, ready to hold him back and ask what was wrong but he was cut by the reasoning sound of thunder. The bolt pierced the blackened clouds, bleeding out in the dark night like an infected wound. Sun Wukong watched, stilled, as Macaque whimpered and curled on himself, burying his head in his paws.

“A-are you okay?” This was a stupid question, of course the macaque wasn't okay, he was whimpering. The sage looked around not knowing what to do, for all the tricks and magic he learned under his former master, he never bothered to learn something as inconsequential as healing magic. He greatly regretted that choice now.

The thunder was still exploding in the confine of the sky, Sun Wukong wondered if he could go out and fight it, maybe beating up the god in charge of storms would appease the sky and resolve the situation. He had half the mind to realize this wasn’t a very good idea and, in a spur of impulsivity, scooped up the lil guy and ran towards the west wing. If he remembered correctly, the west wing was the area with the thickest walls in the mansion, he hoped it could muffle the howls of thunder somehow. Macaque was almost weightless inside of his palms, the sage was afraid to break him if he put too much pressure on him.

He barged in the west wing and rushed towards the bed. He passed by the finely carved mahogany tables and carefully put the macaque in the middle of the bed. He grabbed nearby pillows and blankets and arranged them around the lil guy, creating some sort of tangled nest to comfort him. Macaque buried his snout in the blankets, almost slipping under it. Sun Wukong yielded to his instincts after a few minutes and climbed on the bed, curling around the nest protectively. He learned that, as the Monkey King, monkeys tended to feel safe around him, especially when he was curled around them.

Try as he might, the great sage wasn't able to close his eyes the whole night. Some part of him wanted to keep watching Macaque and make sure he was alright, another worried he could roll around in his sleep and accidently crush the lil guy. He never dared touch the black-furred monkey, worried about his boundaries, but cooed and chirped anytime the other whimpered in distress. Eventually, the storm died down and Macaque uncurled, he slowly blinked, eyes glazed over with a veil of tears and looked around him. His eyes widened when they fell upon the sage.

“Hey, you're feeling better?” Asked the King, as softly as he could to not hurt the other sensitive ears.

“Yeah… hm…thanks.” Mumbled the macaque, the tip of his ears reddening in embarrassment.

“Is this why you don't come out in winter? Because of the storms?”

“Maybe… also they're too many people in the house during winter.”

“So why did you come out last night?” Questioned the King, one eyebrow raised.

“I didn't have any plums left and it's…plums are comforting.” Whispered the macaque. “Whatever, I should go.”

“Wait !” Sun Wukong didn't really have anything to say, but he would hate to see the other go this soon. He racked his mind in search of something to say. “You know, if you need help, you can ask me or something. Either for storms, or other things. W-we're neighbors aren't we? Or roommates or something… Point is, I can help you. If you want.”

Macaque looked at him, gaze unreadable, before turning away with furrowed eyebrows, as if he had troubles believing the sage's words.

“I'll… keep it in mind.” Muttered the black-furred monkey before disappearing in a flurry of shadows.

The sage was particularly happy when he found out, later that day, a peach with a hydrangea petal on top of it in the middle of his living room. He was certain those were gifts from the macaque, they had hints of his smell on them after all.

Sun Wukong decided right then that it was the best peach he ever had, more delicious than the immortal ones.

++ idk why making memes for this Au is so funny, it's just is

Mac disappearing the whole winter without warnings :

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[tenroses07]

more Gomens news so that means another essay from me let’s do this.

first of all, I’m extremely sick of seeing people respond to fans who are upset about the show getting screwed over like “oh so you don’t care about the victims.” nobody has ever said that. everyone is glad he is gone. everyone is glad that the Prachett estate has taken over. but everyone is also sad that the show has been shortened for several reasons. these are NOT mutually exclusive things.

for me, I’m sad about the s3 news for a lot of reasons. I’m thinking about the people whose jobs have been shortened now, I’m thinking about how Terry Prachett’s ending likely wont be able to happen in the way he wanted it to, and I’m thinking about how upsetting it is to see a wonderful piece of media and all the people who have worked so hard on it face the consequences of only ONE person who works on it. a real consequence would be putting gaiman in jail. but, at the same time, I am forever grateful that he is off the show.

the only people to be angry with here are gaiman and amazon. I don’t think I need to remind everyone that gaiman is an absolute douche, that should go without saying. but as far as the show being shortened goes, I believe Amazon and their greediness is to blame there. I’m sure the Prachett estate made some sort of offer to rewrite everything, but was shut down and the show was nearly cancelled entirely if they couldn’t figure out what to do fast enough. NOBODY should be mad at the Prachett estate for doing the best they could for Sir Terry Prachett’s story in an awful situation. and this should go without saying as well but absolutely NOBODY should be mad at the victims for coming out.

as far as my feelings on this change in length, I think at the end of the day it will be okay. I trust the Prachett estate to carry about Terry Prachett’s ending. I trust them to do it right and better than gaiman ever could. I trust the amazing cast and crew of the show to work hard on this final episode and make it the best they can. a lot can happen in 90 minutes. a six episode season would be great, but I am happy we’re getting closure at all.

I think that’s everything I wanted to say about this situation. be kind to each other, and dear lord please have some sense of nuance with this situation.

[bothoutsiders]

It had been tough for Tim lately, but he couldn't give up. Only because that was what Jason would've wanted. He knew that, they spoke about it so many times before. If something were to happen to me, you have to continue with your life, Timmy. Promise me that. And Tim, in his stubbornness, would answer with a Nothing is going to happen to you, I won't let it happen. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to hurt you. 

Sadly, Tim wasn't strong enough to protect Jason. He didn't kill anyone either. And, this time, Jason didn't come back to life.

He moved out of Gotham, because starting over sounded better. He could fulfil his side of all those daydreams he shared with Jason. Those silly little thoughts he would tell him about, and Jason would answer with That sounds great, we should do that! or I'm down for that! You'll be a hot teacher. I'll come visit you, pretend I'm your student, and flirt with you.

Jason won't be able to play his part, but it was a promise. Tim was going to play his.

"I know you're still new here, and you need time to understand how everything works, but we need everyone's help." The lady said as she poured some milk onto a plate.

"It's fine, Nina. I heard it was busy season. I'll do my best to help with the load of work." Tim paid attention to the stray cats that came to drink a bit of the milk. There were four of them, they waited their turn patiently, but never ventured into the office.

Another teacher had once told him, that although they were used to feeding a large number of cats, their numbers eventually dwindled to the four he had in front of him. Two of them would actually let humans pet them, while the other two would run away as soon as they saw someone walking close to them.

One of them called Tim's attention. It was a small cat, a kitten still, orange and with only one eye. It made him think of Jason. He wondered if humans could be reborn as animals, but as soon as he caught himself thinking silly things, he went back to work.

Days passed and every morning he would see the kitten. It didn't have a name. One girl would call him Ronnie, but another guy would call him Pirate. In Tim's mind, he would call him Jason.

Maybe he could adopt him, give him a home and, maybe... They could keep each other company. After all, they both had no one else.

Busy season didn't end anytime soon.

He had been so wrapped up, trying to understand everything, help around, keep up with everyone, that the news took him by surprise. They had caught the four cats and taken them to the vet for a basic check up because before, there used to be five cats. The one missing had to be put down due to a life-shortening illness that spreads fast between cats. A stray infected cat was dangerous.

Tim didn't think much about it, trusting they would all be fine.

Nina spoke, her words barely intelligible to Tim, but one word caught his immediate attention.

Tim’s head whipped toward Nina, so quickly, he thought he would snap his neck.

"What?"

"He's sick. He was so angry that we caught him, and it seems he is pissed to be caged, but we needed to check on him, and the vet just told us that he's sick."

Tim didn't know what to say, but he felt his eyes tear up. He missed an opportunity. Maybe if he had adopted the kitten the first day, he wouldn't have gotten sick. He wouldn't have to die. Again.

"I don't want to go, but my boss told me I have to be there in his last moments. I've done this before, and it's awful. I don't even like cats, but... It's a very depressing moment."

He thought about it, because maybe he could go and be there for the kitten, but he didn't feel ready either. Seeing someone die is something he didn't think he could stand again. It had happened so many times already.

He decided he couldn't do that. Maybe it was better if he ignored all that. It was just a cat, right? And it wasn't like the kitten had any bond with anyone, either.

All day, Tim thought about it. He wondered if there was something he could've done different, or how it would be to have that kitten at home.

"We have the pit ready." Nina said the next day, looking through the window and pointing at a small deep hole. "I asked the guys from the other department to help."

Tim looked at it, but made no comment. It sounded awful how they were getting ready to kill a living being. He knew it was a merciful death, but... It still sounded awful.

Two days passed when Nina spoke again about Jason.

"It was terrible." She rested her chin on both hands, looking behind Tim, remembering what happened. "Ronnie was pissed, hissing at everyone in his final moment. When we buried him, his body was still warm."

Tim scratched his neck nervously, leaving red marks behind.

Good thing it was time to go home.

He was surprised to feel tears rolling down his cheeks on his way home. But he wasn't so surprised to feel awful and believe that things could've gone better for Jason if only he had done something, but no. He had to be so busy, trying to distract his mind of the grief he was still feeling for losing his fiancé.

Maybe next time he would do things differently.

[sepublic]

I’ve seen Dana say they got news of the shortening before writing Follies at the Coven Day Parade, but I’ve also heard that Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door was the first episode they wrote after learning about the shortening. I’m inclined to believe Dana, or perhaps the three prior episodes were already written, but then rewritten in response to the news.

If K3oHD is the threshold, then it’s fitting that so many developments occur for our core trio, like going back to basics. It sets the tone for how the rest of the show is essentially a speedrun of the original plans, with some things still needing to be left out to make room for what’s an abridged version of plans. It’s like the first episode of the new, compact version of TOH the writers had to do; Just as the show’s first episode was about the trio.

This does make me wonder how long it would’ve taken for Lumity to get together, for Harpy Eda to happen, and for King to unlock his roar if it weren’t for the shortening. What was s2e8 supposed to be like, what did the writers initially have in mind? Would it have still followed the same format of the previous season’s eight episode, with three plots for each member of the LEK trio?

As it stands, for how packed and efficient the episode is it still works; People still thought it was normal, same for Eclipse Lake and Yesterday’s Lie. That could point to what Dana said. I guess part of it is that we just see S2A as one batch, so it feels right to assume it was done that way and the shortening only began to take effect with S2B’s first episode, Follies at the Coven Day Parade.

I can see the Raeda breakup flashback still occurring because happening right after the episode we see Raine, and getting further context to Eda and Raine’s dynamic there, feels fitting; A way to add to the tragedy of Raine having to be left behind… Speaking of, knowing the shortening happened right after Eda’s Requiem makes me wonder if the bindings Kikimora placed on Raine were originally meant to have more relevance, but were left as one-note because of the shortening?

Whether it’s ER or K3oHD that it changed, would Raine have been actually brainwashed? Or just outright incapacitated before the writers decided they did not have time to do that AND have Raine return and do things, it’s one or the other. Maybe Darius and Eberwolf were genuine enemies in that episode, and would’ve had an arc during the show’s run of becoming rebels; But since storylines had to be downsized or even removed, this was ‘skipped’ by having it retroactively be the case from the start. And with them, you can at least believe they were always on the same side, whereas an abuser like Alador would have to be addressed because it’s not some one-off misunderstanding.

Man; This being the break, the dividing line, it makes you look differently on either episode on either side of that writing threshold. How they were both changed, one in hindsight and the other in the writing process, to reflect how they’re the transition between different phases of the show. In the end, it’s the same never ending list of questions and What-ifs that will haunt us over TOH, some reasoned inferences and a few confirmations, but ultimately no answers unless we kidnap the writers and make them talk or course.

And even they wouldn’t know fully how the show would’ve turned out in another timeline, because they were still figuring that out and how to fill in and organize the broad strokes when the cancellation arrived and they had to fight for the S3 specials. Because without those the ending would’ve felt very rushed and/or we would’ve missed out on a lot of the buildup and other arcs on the way there, which would also feel extra rushed if not absent. Alas…

Reminds me of how shortly after the cancellations news came, Dana admitted in a 2020 Reddit AMA that writing for S2 was fun, that putting together plot lines was like ‘weaving threads’. Considering how so many things have to come together so efficiently and converge, I can see what she meant. Dana did acknowledge that working within limitations proved to be fun in some ways, and gave the show things it otherwise may not have gotten (such as the Collector); She even planned a separate Choose Your Adventure project based on the audience’s input for her Patreon, before Dana had to cancel it to focus on her career.

[positivexcellence]

‘Walker’s Jared Padalecki Shares a Look at What’s to Come in Season 4

Collider: You’re four seasons into this TV series now, which isn’t the 15 seasons that Supernatural was on the air, but it’s a very respectable amount of time.

JARED PADALECKI: Thank you so much. Hopefully, we’ll have 40 more. But Season 4 is certainly bizarre and amazing and incredible, and I’m grateful and flattered and love the journey these characters have gone through.

What are you loving about Season 4 and about the Cordell Walker of Season 4? What are you most enjoying about this point of the journey?

PADALECKI: With Supernatural, we would flip between maybe the big bad guy and then the problems at home or with the brothers. But in the case of Walker, we will go from big bad guy to family stuff to bad guy of the week to family stuff. Just like life is, it gets big sometimes and it gets small sometimes, but there’s always some issue. And so, what I love about Season 4 is having a serial killer out there that is from our past and that haunted us back then and is sure to haunt us again this season, as The Jackal does, and also, there’s so much drama at home. Cordell has a daughter who’s a freshman in college and a son who’s a senior in high school. Mom and dad are trying to figure out what to do. His brother is trying to figure out what to do. It’s just that feeling that we all get, as humans and as adults, where it feels like, “Can’t just one part of my life calm down?” And sure as hell, it never does.

It feels like this show was originally brought back to television because there was a real hole in this type of programming at that time, and I’m glad the series is still on because it still feels like it’s really needed in that space.

PADALECKI: Agreed. What’s funny is that I grew up in Texas. I grew up in San Antonio. I’ve lived in Austin for 15 years. I grew up watching Walker, Texas Ranger with Sir Chuck Norris, himself, so that was a part of my childhood. For those who’ve seen the original and seen ours, this is obviously a very different show. I’m certainly a fan of action movies and action shows and action books and action stories, but I found myself, after 15 years on Supernatural, which was very much based in family as well, wanting something that anybody of any age could watch. I wanted something that wasn’t just about cutting off vampires’ heads, or killing God or the devil and everything in between, but was more like, “How can we make this as realistic as possible to what’s going on right now, and what has gone on in the past, and what is sure to go on in the future?” The commentary is oftentimes about how people have seen the original and love the re-imagining that we Walker put together. But more often than not, I love that I’ve had parents come up to me and talk about how Walker, though the situation is different because he’s a widower, is going through life and trying to figure out his kids while they’re changing, and he has to go to work because he has a job. There’s something universal about that struggle and that experience that seems to have really communicated and landed with people, no matter what their job is and what their family situation is.

Is it challenging to make this series with a shortened episode count, or does it feel like you can really just pack more into every episode?

PADALECKI: I get both. There’s a quote I heard one time about actors and writers and directors and producers and whatnot, and they used it in the form of an actor. They said, “If you give an actor three years to prepare, it’ll take three years. If you give him three months to prepare, it’ll take three months. If you give him three days, it’ll take three days. If you give him three minutes, it’ll take three minutes.” It’s one of those things where life imitates art. We’ve found such wonderful stuff, and kudos to our great writing team for making it possible, but it feels very like life. It feels very much like Cordell’s life would be. You find out sooner than you would’ve hoped, “Hey, this is coming up,” or “You’ve gotta do this or that.” While it’s certainly been different, if you could give me 30 days to do an episode, it’ll have its challenges. If you give me one day to do an episode, it’ll have its challenges. I think that goes from top to bottom, cast and crew alike. We’ve had a great time. Because of cross-boarding some episodes, we might be doing episodes one and two, and even if a character is only in episode two, since we will shoot two together, I still get to catch up with that human being during the filming, which is wonderful.

You’re kicking off this season with a lot of storylines happening for these characters. He’s stepped up his romance, his daughter is not coping well with things, and there’s a serial killer. I love that there’s really this balance where you have the romance and there are some good things on the horizon for the family, but then there’s also the dark and deadly aspect of a serial killer. What sort of balance will we see this season between the light and the dark? Will we get to a point where things get more dark and more intense, as things play out with The Jackal?

PADALECKI: You certainly will. Given what happened with the strikes, over the last 12 months, it didn’t make sense to do a direct pickup after Season 3. So much time has passed between the end of Season 3 and when Season 4 will air that it just didn’t make a lot of sense for our viewers and our lovely and wonderful loyal watchers. Kale [Culley] just turned 18 in May, and he’s almost my size now. If we picked up Season 4, episode one, directly after Season 3, the final episode, it wouldn’t make sense. You’d be like, “Oh, I guess August grew four inches overnight.” Our writers were very aware of that and tried to make every bit of that as real and human as possible. We certainly do see, as characters and as viewers, how this Jackal that haunted Captain James and Ranger Walker back in the day, five years ago, still has a stranglehold on them, and just how deep and dark they go while trying to keep all the other plates spinning in the other aspects of their lives.

It’s certainly never great to keep secrets from people you care about, especially when they’re big secrets. And on a TV series, those secrets are bound to come out, and likely at the worst possible time.

PADALECKI: Yep, that’s what our sadistic writers try to do. Teasing, teasing, teasing. No, they do it in such a wonderful way. Going back to before even the pilot, one of the things that Anna Fricke and I talked about before we’d even staffed the room and cast the characters and hired the crew was that we want this to be as real as possible. Although in a different arena, with Walker being a Texas Ranger and a widow, we want this to have universal problems and issues that every person goes through on different scales as they navigate this life.

Jensen Ackles directed an episode of the series. Do you think he’ll do that again?

PADALECKI: I sure hope so. Now and always, I will work with Jensen, wherever, whenever. He’s obviously a busy man. He’s got a wife and three kids of his own. He’s here, there, and everywhere. He’s been in Toronto, he’s been in Vancouver, and he’s been in New Mexico. He’s a very busy guy. He and I see each other a lot, obviously, with Supernatural conventions, and we text often. He certainly is up for it. It’s just like life and like Cordell Walker, trying to figure out when things will work out.

Do you see yourself directing an episode?

PADALECKI: Not to speak for Jensen, but to try to speak for Jensen, directing is something that he was always really passionate about, and producing is something that I was always really passionate about. I have a deep respect for directors, and the door is not closed. If the opportunity arises and I think, “Man, I really wanna direct,” then I will. But over 24 years in the industry, I’ve worked with so many talented directors who deserve the episode more than I do. Obviously, as the executive producer and the guy in the poster, I could probably make a phone call and say, “Hey, I want an episode,” and they might say, “Okay, you get one.” That’s not what Jensen did.

From day one, he was like, “Hey, I wanna direct some day.” That’s not where I was. And so, I don’t wanna take an episode away from a really deserving, talented director. I really love my job as an actor and as a storyteller, and as an executive producer, I help guide the storyline and help in the casting and help with the editing. So, I’m a pretty happy cat right now, where I stand. I love that puzzle. The director puts the puzzle pieces together. I like getting the puzzle pieces and figuring out how they can work even better. I think a lot of artists go, “Hey, I wanna guide this.” For me, I love the puzzle of acting and scene breakdown and story breakdown, and just trying to figure out how to make what’s already great on the page and great on the set, even better if I can.

You and Jensen Ackles have both talked about having interest in a possible revival of Supernatural. Is that something you’ve seriously considered doing? Have you had any real conversations about that, or are you just having conversations about having conversations?

PADALECKI: It’s not that I have seriously considered doing it, my single answer is yes. It’s timing. It’s availability. Jensen and I feel so strongly about our show that we had for 15 years together that we don’t wanna just do it just to do it. We don’t wanna go, “Hey, I have two weeks off in June. Let’s go ahead and shoot 10 pages a day, just so we can have some more content.” If and when Supernatural comes back, it’s going to be a labor of love, and we’re gonna put every hour in to make sure that it’s as true to the cannon and to the fandom and to the story and to the characters as possible. So, my short answer is it’s not a consideration, the answer is yes. I just don’t know when I’m available. I don’t know when he’s available. But again, my answer is yes.

Have you thought about all the different possibilities of what it could be, as far as whether you’d do a shortened season, whether you’d want to do a movie, or if none of it works, whether you’d do an animated series?

PADALECKI: Yeah. Honest to God, I don’t think about the medium in which it would air. I think about the story that I care about. If Jensen and I talk about where we would like to see Sam and Dean appear on screens again, and we think, “Cool, we like this, and we like this arc, and we like this conclusion,” then let’s do it. If they make it into a movie, great. If they make it into a limited series, great. If they make it into a flip book that’s available on Amazon, great. But at this point in time, I feel so protective of Supernatural that if the story’s fine, then I don’t care how it gets into the world.

Eric Kripke has also always made it known that he’d love to have you on The Boys anytime you were available. Would you like to make an appearance over there? Have you actually spoken to him about that? Would you even want to be in that world?

PADALECKI: Yeah, he has reached out to me and my response to him 90% of the time is, “Dude, I’m 41 now with three kids. I’m not 25 and working out three hours a day. I know you’re going to fucking make me get naked, so give me a heads up. I’m in, but let me get a nutritionist and a trainer and get in the hyperbaric chamber for eight months before you make me show up.” But yeah, it would obviously be a lot of fun to see Kripke again and to work on that show, which is a great show that I’m a fan of.

It certainly seems like a little wild break of fun.

PADALECKI: A little wild? Have you seen the show?!

Yes, and I love it very much. But I also have a sick sense of humor.

PADALECKI: I do, too. I love watching it, but imagine putting yourself in it. I’ve got kids. My mom and dad are still alive. I’ve got grandparents that are alive. I don’t know how to just unplug their electricity when the show airs.

collider

[oscconfessions]

i wonder what algebraliens taste like

i'd imagine depending on who/what they are they'd taste different

four most likely tastes really gamey because he most definitely is a wild animal. if we go on the headcanon that algebraliens are more animal-like than other objects, it's possible he'd taste like venison (deer), because i see him as thin and gangly but still has enough muscle on him for meat.

x is probably mostly fatty. say what you want to say, but his shape even in canon, is, for lack of a better term, rounded. it's not worth it to eat x unless you want to fry him up like chicharonnes (fried pork skins[god i am hoping i spelled that correctly i am a hopeless gringo i apologize]). otherwise if you cook him normally he'd taste like rabbit but there'd be little to no meat on this dude. personally i think of him like this because x is passive and would need a thick blubber layer (like a real life whale, the animal, no i am not calling fat people whales, even if i was i would be calling myself a whale because i AM fat fuck you) to protect himself. i mean how else does this little guy take a beating from others? additionally, i think x is really fuzzy, maybe he's like a seal??????? do people eat seals?????

2. what does two taste like. personally i think they're different from the other algebraliens in makeup- they have an affinity for cake and other sweet foods, so maybe their diet consists of sugars, not too unlike some insects. maybe they're insect-like? bee? bee. that being said, they wouldn't have too much flavor on their own. say if you fried them up like a cricket, and put some seasonings on him, you could get something that tastes good.

yes i am continuing with xfohv algebraliens.

seven and one (what we have seen of one at least) i think follows two in 'is insect' category. mayyyybe 14 is also insect? but i also don't wanna find out what 14 tastes like. i really don't.

six and nine both inexplicably taste of mint toothpaste and wintergreens respectively. that being said, i am allergic to mint toothpaste, so six is safe from being eaten by me.

8 tastes like tofu. following six and nine, idk how this would happen, but 8 probably would be good in a stew or soup. miso soup

i don't wanna find out what five tastes like. i know they're probably meaty but the purple color reminds me too much of grape flavored candies and i'd be too disgusted. also i don't think 5 has ever taken a shower

i would never eat 10. never in a million years. i like 10 wayyy too much. but if i absolutely had to guess what 10 tastes like, i think 10 is the porky-mutton contender. probably leans more towards a rack of lamb. i say this with the most absolute affection. 10 is my favorite idk why

15 tastes like 15. if we are talking fusion 15, mint overload, i am not touching it. if we are talking red 15, they taste like beef. and the number 15. you take a bite and you see the number 15 appear before your eyes before you swallow. i guess

does 3 exist? idk

i think this is the end of the algebraliens- no wait i gotta do exclamation mark who i will shorten the name to ! bc i am not typing that over and over again

! unlike 5 has a lighter lavender color. since they exist in a different universe and is much more kooky than beefydie algebraliens, i think they'd exist on a different logic. ! probably tastes whatever that juice tastes like, and i think that juice is probably really herbal tasting, with mostly floral lavender notes. what i am saying is ! tastes like if you were to eat a spa. i do not want to eat a spa.

this has been; super technical analysis of what numbers and variables and punctuation tastes like

.

[shutupptara]

‘tis the damn season - nathan mackinnon

summary: set during the 2020-shortened season- you’re home for christmas when you run into one nathan mackinnon on a grocery run. it’s been years since you’ve last talked, let alone seen each other, but it’s quickly like no time has passed. and the road not taken looks real good now..

i’ve been writing this since 2020. much like all of my writing i’ve posted, you have @kat-hearts to thank for this. she lovingly bullied me into finishing a piece i hadn’t touched in years. set at christmas, but not a christmas story. also set during the pandemic, so reality is very hand wavy (aka the nhl pushing the season happens, but lockdown isn’t reallllly a big deal) so if that bothers you, maybe skip this one.

is this any good? i honestly don’t know, but i know i loved writing nate so pls enjoy

word count: 13,151

warnings: alcohol use, strong language, explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, a general disdain for life and choices made, a tiny bit of angst, hating on Florida (it’s okay i live there) a LOT of self indulgence

title from ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

It wasn’t that she didn’t like returning home for holidays, it was just a huge ordeal every time it happened. Not only was it a 3,000 mile trip, there was always ice and snow to contend with. Coupled with her well-meaning, albeit overbearing, neighbors, the holidays get to be a bit much for her to handle. Still, there’s something wonderful about the tranquility of home. Refreshing, really. With a year as stressful as 2020 had been, it was a blessing to be able to return home for the holidays.

Her first true day of Christmas break, her mother begs her to go to the store for her: there’s so much baking to prepare for, and while she is happy to do the shopping for her, she knows it’s so she won’t see her wrapping presents. Even at 26, her mom insists upon marking her gifts ‘from Santa’, and the nostalgia of it always makes her smile. So, against her better judgment, she ventures out to the closest Sobeys. She has her jacket and scarf pulled tightly around her, unwilling to admit to herself she really can’t take the cold anymore, but mostly wanting to hide to be in and out as quickly as possible.

She grabs a cart on her way in the store, unlocking her phone and holding it open in front of her, eyes sweeping across the list her mother had sent her with. It isn’t terribly long, thankfully. She makes quick work of grabbing what she needs, moving down the aisles long ago committed to memory with ease. Various other things get tossed into the cart as she moves: chocolate covered pretzels, a case of Diet Coke, her favorite cheese crackers.

When she reaches the wine aisle, she shrugs to herself, deciding it’ll be best to have some on hand, in case of an emergency. She grabs a bottle of Roscato for her mom, and two bottles of cab for herself. Once they’re safely in the cart, she makes her way to the checkout line. There’s quite a few people crowded there, and she tries to maneuver around to a shorter line, her brow furrowing when she spots a rather large looking man a few feet in front of her.

As she gets closer, realization washes over her. “Nathan MacKinnon,” she stops in her tracks, heart swooping in her chest. “As I live and breathe.” It comes out before she really even processes what’s happening.

He turns, almost as if in slow motion, his eyes widening when they land on her. “My god, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?”

She smiles slightly, suddenly hyper aware of how messy her hair is, and the fact that she hadn’t tried very hard when getting dressed this morning. “Could ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you home for Christmas.” She knows for a fact she hasn’t. It was the one reprieve of being back in Cole Harbour - Nate was never here.

“Yeah, I’m usually not,” he shrugs. “I uh, you know with the year as crazy as it’s been, and the season being pushed, I’ve actually been home most of the year. Hanging out with Andy, Sid, Jack, Pete...” There’s a longing look on his face, mirroring the ache she knows is lingering in his chest. There’s an identical one inside of her, and she knows she’s to blame for the pain Nate’s dealing with. This wasn’t a particularly easy run in for either of them, but it’s almost refreshing in a way? She doesn’t care about the buddies he’s spending his time with, she would’ve asked if she did, but it’s obviously important to Nate she know, and she doesn’t want to read too much into that. Maybe he wants her to know he’s not spending time with another girl, and she hates that part of her is hopeful because of that but it’s not fair to be. She can’t expect him to stay single forever, simply because being here and seeing him has every feeling she’s ever felt for him rushing back.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she laughs. “I’m really glad I ran into you.” There’s a surprising amount of truth to that. God, it’s been almost eight years since she’s seen Nate, even in passing, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t followed his career. She’s from Canada for Christ’s sake, of course she follows hockey.

“I am too,” Nate grins. “Hey, you should come by later. There’s a few people coming over, no one you hate,” he raised his eyebrows and she can’t help but laugh. “No expectations, just drinking and fun. It would be nice to catch up.”

Without hesitation, she’s blurting out, “I would love that.”

“Great!” Nate exclaims. She can practically see him center himself in that moment, try to keep it together.

“I’m staying at my parents’ house,” she offers. Though I would much rather be with you, her mind continues, and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Are you still two doors down?”

Nate reaches a hand up, rubbing the back of his hand awkwardly. “Nah, I bought a house when I signed with the Avs. It’s a bigger one, out on Albany Terrace. I think you’ll like it.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“Yeah?” Nate mutters.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offers. “Guess that means you have to give me your number.”

___

She makes a substantial effort to not show up right at 8 pm. It’s difficult, as she’s been a compulsively early person her whole life, but this time it feels necessary to be “fashionably late”. It helps that she fusses with what to wear for over thirty minutes- this shouldn’t be a big deal, and she doesn’t want it to be, but that doesn’t change the anxiety that’s swelling in her chest. She tells herself this isn’t anything to stress, it’s just catching up with an old friend and if things are awkward, she can always leave. Still, as she pulls up to Nate’s house, she realizes there’s a part of her that’s a tiny bit excited.

She takes in a slow breath as she kills the engine, nodding to herself as she climbs out of the car and heads up the walkway. She’s clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels in her left hand, never showing up empty handed instilled in her at a young age. She rings the doorbell, glancing around curiously as she waits. Her heart is pounding, and she’s ready to turn and bolt back to her car when the door swings open.

Nate’s standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face. She lets her eyes sweep over him, admiring the beige cable knit sweater straining over his shoulders. He looks so relaxed, so incredibly casual. “Hey! So glad you made it. Come in.” He steps aside, closing the door behind her. “That a bottle of Jack?” She can’t do anything but nod, holding it out to him wordlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughs. “Everyone’s in the living room. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Nate leads the way through the house, stopping briefly in the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Hey guys!”

She peers around him, relieved to see there really wasn’t anyone she hated in attendance. Pete, who she's known her whole life and his girlfriend Hannah are first to greet her, ushering her to sit beside them.

“Hey squirt, it’s been ages,” Pete teases.

“You forget I’m older than you,” She laughs. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“Where are you living now?” Hannah asks.

“Florida. Been there for almost five years.” She falls quiet then, eyes glancing at where Nate is still standing.

He fidgets, and clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.” With that, he disappears around the corner, and she’s left to slump into the couch.

For a while, she mostly listens to Pete talk about his job, or the crappy apartment Hannah’s parents are begging them to move out of. It’s only a matter of time until they end up engaged, she knows, and she’s happy they’ve found happiness. It does little to help her feel like less of a leper, though. As soon as she’s able to find a break in their one-sided conversation, she jumps on it, taking the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen. Nate’s on one of the other couches, talking to Andy about getting a Call of Duty game going, and that’ll be enough to keep him occupied for hours. No chance he’ll notice her absence until she can figure out what the hell she was thinking showing up here tonight.

She heads straight for the freezer when she enters the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of Jack, and grabbing a solo cup laid out on the counter. She drops a handful of ice into the cup, followed shortly after by a hefty pour of the dark liquid. She brings the cup to her lips after taking a long drink.

“Jack on the rocks, eh?” A voice behind her asks.

“‘Tis the damn season,” she mutters, turning to spot Sidney Crosby leaning against the doorframe. She raises her cup to him, taking another long drink.

He lets out a honking laugh, eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “didn’t really think you’d remember me, to be honest.” She had only encountered Sidney a handful of times, and she never thought she’d left much of an impression. Truth be told, she was always a little star struck around him- it was hard not to be.

He furrows his brow, frowning. “Come on, I met you a bunch of times when you lived in Pennsylvania. And Nate talked about you nonstop when you were-“ he trails off, shrugging.

“Pen pals?” She offers. She can tell Sidney doesn’t see it as bitter. There’s a sadness in her voice she probably won’t ever be able to shake when she’s talking about Nate.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t push her, thank god. Instead, he steps into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of Jack on rocks, and clinks his cup against hers. “Here’s to escaping hometowns,” he toasts.

She grins. She takes another long drink, frowning at her cup when she realizes it’s nearing empty. “I think I may get drunk tonight, Sidney.”

He offers her the bottle, “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”

Surprisingly enough, Sidney Crosby is the one to save her from the awkwardness of the evening. True to his word, he does stay in the kitchen and drink with her. They talk about everything from Sid’s most recent cup wins to why on earth she decided Florida was a good place for her to settle down. They tread very carefully on any conversation that can take a turn to Nate, and she’s thankful Sidney read the room. He’s quite fun to be around once you chip away the exterior and he lets his guard down. They relocate to the table in the corner, and keep the bottle of Jack between the two of them, both casually refilling their cups as the night wears on.

When the bottle is almost empty and she can feel her head swimming, she jumps at the sound of another person entering the kitchen. “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nate takes the seat beside her at the table, his leg bumping against hers as he maneuvers his chair. “Should’ve known you’d ditch me for Crosby.”

Opposite them, Sidney snorts. “Nah, just needed a drinking buddy, is all.”

“Sid is surprisingly good at drinking Jack,” she offers.

“Yeah?” Nate grins. “Seems like you’re pretty good too. Have you eaten anything?”

She taps her finger against her lips, considering, before shaking her head dramatically. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should fix that...”

Again, she shakes her head. “No room for food. Just alcohol.”

Nate smiles at her, and even in the haze of the alcohol, she feels her heart warm. It’s that same fond smile she’d loved so much when they were together, and she knows she can’t let her mind run away from her, but at the moment, she can’t rationalize why that’s the case. “In that case, let me break out the good stuff.” He stands up, heading to the cabinet above his stove. There, he grabs a fancier looking bottle, a dark brown liquid sloshing around as he carries it over to the table. “Crown Royal XR, so you never forget where you came from.” He takes the liberty of pouring her and Sid a glass before fixing one for himself, and reclaiming his seat.

She sniffs the liquid in the cup, eyes widening. “Ooof.”

“Don’t quit on me now,” Sid goads. He nudges her with his elbow, giggling.

She shakes her head adamantly. “Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” she announces. She raises her glass, waiting as Nate and Sid follow suit. “Here’s to Cole Harbour’s golden boys.” She sees Nate roll his eyes, but he’s smiling when he brings his glass to his lips.

She takes a long drink, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Oh, that is really smooth.”

“Everything’s better when it’s Canadian,” Sid pipes up.

She giggles at this, which makes Nate quirk an eyebrow. “There’s no arguing that point, Florida.”

“Come on, Florida isn’t that bad,” she insists.

Nate looks to Sid, then back to her, shrugging. “The fact that you have to say it that way doesn’t help your case.”

“It doesn’t snow there!”

“Boo,” Sid says.

“How do you even survive without hockey down there?” Nate adds.

“Shut up, there’s hockey! My friend Nick would argue Tampa is a huge hockey town. Wait- oh my god!” She cuts herself off, looking around excitedly. She pats the pockets of her pants, pulling a face when she can’t find her phone.

“What are you doing?” There’s a distinct amusement in Nate’s voice.

“Where’s my phone? I wanna FaceTime Nick. He always gives me shit about knowing y’all. He pretends he doesn’t believe me because he’s never met you, so somehow that means I haven’t? I don’t even know...”

“Nick your boyfriend?” Nate grumbles, voice low.

She just snorts out a laugh, and takes her phone when Sidney slides it over to her. She clicks around on it for a second, then the distinct sound of a FaceTime call fills the room. She drums her fingers against the table impatiently, eyes lighting up when the line clicks on.

“Hey!” An excited voice fills the room.

“Hey Nick! What’re you up to?” She keeps the phone close to her, keeping Nate and Sid out of the frame.

“Well, it’s almost one in the morning on winter break so obviously I’m drunk with Garrett.”

“Tell him I said hi,” she insists.

“Sure. What’re you doing?”

Her eyes light up again, and she grabs her glass excitedly. “I’m also drunk, but I wanted to show you who I happen to be drunk with.” She downs the rest of the liquid in her glass and slides her phone back farther on the table, angling the camera to capture all three of them in the frame. “I give you Nate MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby.”

“Holy shit. That’s- fucking hell, that’s actually Sidney Crosby!”

She chuckles, turning the phone to face Sid and he waves awkwardly. “I told you, you don’t grow up in Cole Harbour without knowing the pride and joy of the city.”

“But you said you’d only met him a few times! And Nate MacKinnon too, what the fuck...”

“In the flesh. Oh, and Nate wanted to know if you were my boyfriend before I called.” She peers over at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. He opens his mouth to protest, but Nick quickly cuts him off.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Just one of my best friends, dude. You have my blessing. I know she would love to date a hockey player.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” Nate smirks.

“On that note, we’re going back to drinking now. Just wanted to humble brag real quick.” She flashes a toothy grin. “I’ll make them get dinner next time they’re in Tampa. Maybe you and the whole crew can come along.”

“Yes, totally! Have fun! Merry Christmas!” She wishes him a Merry Christmas back, and she’s ending the call, she hears Nick muttering to Garrett: ‘yes that was Sidney fucking Crosby’. She drops her phone down onto the table then, glancing over at Nate expectantly.

“So that’s Nick, my not boyfriend. He’s a big Lightning fan, and he hates the Penguins.”

“Charming,” Sid laughs. “Seems nice though.”

“Nick’s the best,” she agrees. “He and Danielle get me through living in Florida.”

“Ah, so you do admit Florida sucks?” Nate presses. He offers her another drink, and she nods eagerly. When her glass is full, he raises his to her. “Fuck Florida.” She taps hers against his, smiling widely.

“Fuck Florida, indeed.”

___

Another hour slips by as the three of them sit in the kitchen. The rest of Nate’s house is quiet, save for the inevitable hockey talk they’ve slipped into. Nate’s sobered during their time sitting there, his attention focused mostly on her and her half hearted responses. Poor girl is exhausted.

“Time for me to head out,” Sidney mutters. He pushes his chair back from the table, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Uber’s outside. Thanks for having me, Nate. Nice catching up with you.”

“Bye Sid!” she brightens up, waving her fingers as he giggles and heads out the door. “Then there were two.”

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Nate offers.

She shakes her head adamantly, eyes glossy, head swimming. “No, I told you... no room for food.” She rests her arms on the table, dropping her head down on top of them and peering up at Nate curiously.

He chuckles, resting a hand on her elbow. “Okay, time to get you home.”

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Naaaate,” she draws out, “no.”

“Come on,” he laughs. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still frowning, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He offers her his hand as he stands, helping her to her feet as soon as she agrees. He hooks her arm through his when she sways, trying to keep her steady on her feet. “I’ve got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a lot of patience on Nate’s part, but eventually, he’s able to get her into the front seat of his truck. He buckles her seatbelt for her when he slides behind the wheel, starting the car as she starts complaining about how uncomfortable his seats are.

“Good thing your parents live less than three minutes from here, huh?” He teases. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her head slumped back against the headrest.

She’s quiet for a long time, and he has to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. When he does, he catches her gaze. “Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“You don-“

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I walked out I just- fuck, I didn’t want to be a WAG. I didn’t want hockey above all else, always. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”

He’s quiet, hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Well, it wasn’t fair of me to make you feel like that would be your reality.” He hesitates, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he nods to himself. “We can call it even.”

He offers her a shy smile, and she can’t stop herself from returning it. She unhooks her seatbelt and slides closer to him on the bench, resting her head against his shoulder. “Deal. Thank you, Mack.”

___

When they arrive at her parents’ house, Nate kills the engine and lets out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” She groans, but sits up straight.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She pushes the door open hastily, climbing out and crosses her arms over her chest. Nate simply shakes his head, taking her arm again and leading her up the pathway carefully. He knows it’s icy, and the last thing they need is the both of them to eat shit.

As soon as they reach the front door, Nate shushes her, trying to remain as quiet as possible while he pulls out the spare key from beneath the mat. He’s done this countless times before, and truly, it never gets any easier.

“Mack, remember when you tried to sneak me in drunk right before you left for juniors?” She laughs. She just giggles even louder when he presses a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. “You always take care of me.”

“I know, shhhh. I always will. We’ve gotta get inside.” Moments later, Nate gets the door open, tugging her across the threshold. He pulls the door shut as quietly as possible before glancing up, spotting her parents in the living room, sitting on couches reading. “Hi guys,” he sighs.

“Nate,” her mom smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry about this.. She was drinking with Sid and I didn’t want her driving-“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whines. “I’m perfectly fine, Nathan.”

Her dad gives him a knowing look, chuckling. “Thanks, son.”

“Lucky to have you around, Nate,” her mom adds. “You know the way.”

He nods, tugging on her arm to lead her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. She grumbles the entire way, complaining about being “too tired to see” or “everything’s spinning, I’m going to die”. Nate can’t contain his laughter, which only seems to frustrate her more. She glares at him when she finally gets the door to her room open, kicking her shoes off by the door and flopping down onto her bed in a huff. “Who let me drink me so much,” she groans.

“That would be Sid,” Nate leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s an enabler.” She lifts her head up, peering at him thoughtfully. “I was afraid to talk to you tonight,” she admits. “And he supported my stupidity to try to make me feel better. At least his heart is in the right place.”

Nate’s brown furrows. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

She pushes herself up into a seated position, crossing her legs underneath her. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now.” Her voice is low, eyes cast downward. “I don’t know what we have in common anymore, or if you’d even want to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Nate says, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. Two strides bring him over to the bed, and he sits beside her, craning his neck down to catch her eye. “I asked you to come over because I did want to talk to you. Do.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why but I never expected to run into you, and when I did, all I could think about was reconnecting and... I don’t know, being friendly again? There’s a pretty big you shaped hole in my life.”

She looks at him, eyes sweeping over every last detail of his face. She wants to blame the alcohol for how attractive she finds him in that moment, but she knows she can’t. Nate has always been gorgeous, and their time growing, apart, has only increased that. “I’ve got a big Nate Mack hole too,” she admits.

Without wavering, he reaches out and rests his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “Tomorrow, then. I’m coming by with breakfast and we’re gonna play pond puck.”

She can’t help the groan that falls from her lips. “I’m going to be far too hungover to be on skates tomorrow.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you drank half a bottle of Jack,” he grins. “Night.”

___

True to his word, Nate does come by first thing in the morning. She crawls out of bed at the sound of laughter down the stairs, wincing when the light hits her eyes. She manages to pull herself together to look somewhat presentable, though her headache is enough to have her debating hiding under the covers for the day.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Her dad teases. He’s sitting opposite Nate at the kitchen table, reading the paper like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Nate laughs. “I brought Timmies.”

“Black?” She mutters, reaching for the cup gratefully. He nods. “Not iced, but I guess I’ll live. Thanks.”

Nate rolls his eyes, bringing his own cup to his lips and taking a long drink. “We gotta get you out of America. Not iced, pft,” he scoffs.

“Nate’s got a point, kid. You’re barely a Canadian anymore.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I didn’t hear you and mom complaining in Florida in January last year.”

Her dad grins. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles.

“You hungry at all?” Nate asks.

“Just coffee for me,” she raises her cup to him.

“Alright. Should we get going then?”

“A heroic return to my pond puck career,” she jokes. “Should be great with this hangover.”

Her dad laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Don’t let her fall through the ice, Nate.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flashes a winning smile as he gestures for her to head out the door in front of him. “Your dad was thrilled to help me find your old skates in the garage this morning,” he tells her as they climb into his truck.

She rests her head against the cold window, eyes shut. “Of course he was.”

“It was nice to see them again,” he says quietly. “I always really liked your parents.”

“Good thing, they love you.” And it’s completely true. To this day, her mother still asks her about Nate. What’s he up to, if he’s seeing anyone... it would be sweet if it wasn’t so painful for her to have to relive every time she brings it up. Her dad is thankfully more subtle- they really only talk about Nate when hockey comes up. Of course they both keep tabs on the Avs, and it’s a common ground that is far more exhaustive than her job that her dad doesn’t really understand anyway. All in all, yes, her parents do love Nate, which made their break up that much harder.

Nate doesn’t respond; her words linger in the air like a bad perfume. There’s a kind of expectation to them, a dare to explore what that means and how it makes either of them feel. Thankfully, Nate pulls his truck off the road before they have to broach the subject. Just ahead of them, there’s a frozen pond, a couple of trash cans tipped over on either side to use as makeshift goals. It’s the same pond they’d played on as kids, hours spent skating and laughing together. It brings back a melancholic feeling, one that seems to sit in her chest when she follows Nate’s lead and climbs out of the car. He hands her her skates and a stick when they start walking, eyes focused on the snow beneath their feet.

She laces up her skates silently, glancing over at Nate every so often. He looks like he wants to say something, but just isn’t sure where to begin. She tries no to dwell on it, and instead let herself have a good time today. It’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to skate.

She uses the stick Nate handed her to help stand and steps out onto the ice, skates wobbling as she tries to get her bearings.

“Looking a little rusty there, Gretz,” Nate teases.

“Oh shut up,” she groans. It takes her a minute, but before long, she finds her comfort on skates again. It’s second nature, something she knows she will never forget how to do. “It’s just been a while.”

“Nowhere to skate in the sunshine state, eh?” He skates around her in a circle, turning around and skating backwards so he can face her. “What could possibly make you want to stay there?”

She gives a half shrug. “My life is there.”

Nate nods. “Right. Your job, your not boyfriend...” The smile on his face suggests he’s kidding, but she can see something behind his eyes.

“Nate...” there’s a warning in her voice.

He holds a hand up in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just... what do you?”

“I’m a counselor,” she tells him. She chuckles when he purses his lips, clearly having no idea what that entails. “It’s supposed to be a mental health professional in the schools - someone to help students short term, refer out for bigger issues, teach social emotional skills. I’m just a glorified secretary at this point.”

He narrows his eyes, considering her. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s true. Nothing I do actually helps anyone, and the one girl I did have a good relationship with, I was too busy to help this year. So she’ll never come back to talk to me now. I’m always a month behind and I don’t know-“ she lets her voice trail off, feeling her eyes sting as they fill with tears. It never hits her like this until she says it out loud, but it’s so alarming to lose your passion. She’s content, but she’s not happy, and it’s hard to feel like she didn’t make a huge mistake with her choices in life.

Nate stops suddenly, causing her to slam right into him. He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, keeping her upright. “Hey,” he coos, “I’m sure she’ll come back to talk to you. This year is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I’m sure a lot of this is stress.”

This seems to open the flood gates, and against her better judgment, she feels hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. It only makes her cheeks more cold, and she curses under her breath. “I think I messed up, Nate. Florida, counseling, what if it was all a mistake?” She shakes her head, dropping it down to stare at their feet.

Nate reaches out, tilting her chin up with one finger. “Then you make a change. Find out how to be happy again, and go after it.” His hand slides up to cup her cheek, warm fingers wiping away her tears. “You’re incredible. If you made a mistake, that’s fine. Regroup, move past it.”

Her breath hitches, eyes locking with his. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips, her heart warming at his words. It’s an incredible feeling to be validated like this, to know her concerns aren’t ridiculous and she’s not an utter failure for rethinking every decision that’s brought her to this point. It’s tenfold now, standing so close to Nate, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Nate, I-“

“I believe in second chances,” he tells her. His voice is barely above a whisper now, the rasp sending a tingle up her spine. She can hear the unspoken words behind it, I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, it’s hard to take it any other way. Maybe she could let herself do this - love again, put her faith in him.

There’s nothing she wants more than to be able to give in, melt into his arms and tell him it was all wrong, but they can fix it now. With his bright blue eyes shining the way they are, she even lets part of herself believe that.

It’s the other, realistic part of her that holds her back. The what ifs and rational thinking of distance and time zones and years past rearing their ugly head. The fear of getting hurt again, or hurting him. There’s just too much to consider, too many sacrifices to ask of any one person.

“I want to believe in them too,” she admits. “But-”

Her eyes tell him everything she’s too afraid to. He inhales sharply, nodding once. “I understand. I won’t push you.” His fingertips brush across her cheeks gently before he drops his hand to his side. A sad sigh falls past his lips, and before he can move to skate away, she’s grabbing his forearm and gripping it tightly.

“We’ll play for it,” she blurts, mostly in an attempt to keep him from walking away.

Nate’s eyes snap up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll play each other. Pond puck. And I’ll be yours for the weekend.”

“If who wins?”

“Either of us.” Her hesitance is clear as day on her face, the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Maybe she’s being ridiculous, childlike even, but this is the only way she can give her heart what it wants without giving up her entire life. Albeit how appealing that road looks at the moment.

Gaze narrowing, he purses his lips in consideration. “You’re saying no strings?”

She nods, “I’m saying I won’t ask you to wait for me, if you don’t ask me to stay.”

“So a one night stand?”

Her head shakes slowly, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “No. I want the weekend with you in our own little bubble. I want to ignore reality and just… be.”

“I think we need terms for this,” Nate says. “What’s off limits, what isn’t.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “What you’re comfortable with.”

“If you win, big if, I’m yours for the weekend. You can call the shots; anything you want to do. Fair?” When she agrees, he cracks a small smile. “Great. When I win, you’re mine for the weekend. I’ll call the shots.”

“Sounds reasonable-”

“One more thing,” he cuts in. “You can’t break my heart.”

His words hang heavy between them, shifting the atmosphere. This feels like a contingency meant for more than just the weekend. It makes her chest ache to think about it, but Nate’s speaking again before she can get a word in edgewise. “Alright,” he pulls a puck out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “First to three, yeah?”

He’s courteous enough to wait for her to get her bearings, both hands on her stick, knees bent, before he drops the puck between them. He taps it a few times with his stick, moving in slow circles. He pauses when they’re face to face again, leaning forward. “I’ll let you have first go.”

“Don’t go easy on me, Dogg,” she teases. “I’m tough. I can take it.” She mirrors his stance, leaning over the puck with her hands spread wide on the stick.

“Game on, babe.” She sweeps her stick over his, cursing under breath when he swipes the puck away from her. He carries it on his stick across the ice, avoiding her attempted checks and steals as he goes. Eventually, she abandons that tactic, instead racing ahead of him and turning to defend the “goal”. She keeps her stick down, watching his eyes to try to read his play. He fakes left, moves right, stopping on a dime as he throws ice across her shins. She blinks and the puck is slamming around in the can, Nate throwing his arms in celebration.

“One down,” he gloats.

She rolls her eyes, flicking the puck out at him. It skids to a stop in front of his skates, and she heads back to center ice, knowing he won’t be far behind. By some miracle, she’s able to gain possession of the puck in the faceoff, doing her best to get a jump on him and head down the ice. In an instant, he’s right behind her, stick held out in front of her, attempting to poke check it away. When she shifts, Nate checks into her from the side, nearly sending her tumbling on the ice. “Okay Mr. Lady Byng,” she laughs.

Nate simply grins at her, taking off after the puck and keeping it a distance away from her ahead of him. Effortlessly, he sends the puck sailing into the trash can, turning around to face her with an even cockier grin. “Not looking too good for you.”

“You’re a cheater,” she mumbles, retrieving the puck and gliding over to center ice. She keeps it in her hand as Nate eyes her, his gaze dragging slowly from her skates to the top of her head. “What?”

He shakes his head, jutting his chin out. “I don’t cheat.” He hunches over his stick, waiting for her to crouch into the same position and drop the puck. The intensity that emanates from him is palpable, his bated breath, clenched teeth only adding to the stakes. When the puck falls from her hand, it’s like time slows down. There’s a frigid breeze across her cheeks, blowing her hair back over her shoulders - the puck clattering against the ice once, twice, before it’s flat and they’re both springing into action. Their sticks collide as they sweep them, neither making contact with the puck at first.

It’s Nate who comes up victorious from the faceoff, stickhandling it until he’s able to turn his back to her. She knows he’s far too advanced for her to out play - his skills are unmatched, so she opts for playing a little dirty, using her own skills to her advantage. When Nate fakes and moves left, she positions herself there, right in front of him. All the air whooshes out of her as they collide, his shoulder pressed against her chest. The startled expression on his face makes her crack a grin, and he’s distracted enough by the move to let her gain possession. Once it’s on her stick, she takes off down the ice in the other direction, keeping the puck out in front of her. She can feel Nate hot on her tail, attempting to swat the puck free, knock her off balance. Her eyes stay fixed to the trash can, and she doesn’t hesitate - just slaps the puck as hard as she can. The bang that rings out echoes through the quiet, and she glances over her shoulder, flashing Nate a triumphant smile.

“Two-one now,” she points out. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to boast about, but it very clearly pushes Nate’s buttons. She’s never known a single person to be more competitive, and it’s admittedly fun to draw that side out of him every now and again.

She can tell she’s struck the nerve when Nate gets huffy, his nostrils flaring as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just get ready for the faceoff.” He reaches down to scoop the puck out of the can, quickly following her back to center ice and watching her get situated. Seconds pass in silence until they’re both ready, and Nate drops the puck.

It’s a hard-fought battle from the moment the puck hits the ice. Nate jumps into action, immediately getting his blade down, trying to gain control. But she doesn’t concede to him as easily this time. She bends her knees a little further, using her body to shove against his side, trying to throw him off. When he chances a look at her, she swats at the puck, nearly situating it on her own stick. Nate chuckles, shifts his weight to his other foot, and steals the puck back. The movement throws her a little off balance, and she reaches out for him on instinct, hand gripping the fabric covering his shoulder tightly. She tugs at it to keep herself upright, ignoring his half hearted scoff when it knocks him away from the puck slightly. Within seconds he rights himself, tearing down the ice toward the goal. He’s impossibly fast, and she knows there’s no catching up to him, so the resounding “clang” of the puck hitting the metal comes as no surprise.

When she lifts her gaze, she immediately spots a grinning Nate skating over to her. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s game,” he breathes as he skids to a stop, throwing snow across her shins. Breath hitching as she draws her eyes up to his face, she notices Nate is so close. Closer than he’s been to her in years, and heart is pounding in her chest. With a clatter, he drops his stick to the ice, tossing his gloves down beside it. Now bare-handed, he reaches up, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. The cold air bites against the skin of her cheek for just a moment before his hand is there, big and warm and so soft. “I call the shots, right?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are zeroed in on his lips. His tongue flicks out to wet them after a brief nod of her head, and something in her brain short circuits. Drawing in a shaky breath, she holds it as Nate leans in, lips brushing against hers gently, tentative. On their own accord, her hands are flying up to grip his shoulders, her legs suddenly weak.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it’s started, and it leaves her breathless, eyes blinking open slowly. All she can focus on is the small smile that appears on Nate’s lips, and the deep blue of his eyes.

“Do you have plans later?” Nate mutters.

“No.”

There’s that blinding grin again. “Good.” He leans in, pressing a soft little kiss to the side of her mouth, barely inches from her parted lips. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

___

“Where are we going Nate?” She asks, eyes narrowed. They’re sitting side by side in his truck, driving mostly in silence to their unknown destination. His earlier text was cryptic, merely telling her to dress warmly with a smiley emoji. It’s out of character for him, but mostly she’s surprised he seems to want to be spending time outside. In December. In Canada. Sure it’s been warmer than in past years, but when the sun drops, they’re lucky to be breaking twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. A small smirk dances across his lips, eyes seeming to sparkle with mischief. He knows how much she hates not knowing, but she understands he’s trying to do something fun too. So she sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shifting her focus to the road in front of them. “You’ll like it,” he promises. There’s the tiniest hint of uncertainty there, a hesitation that tells her he’s just as nervous and confused about everything as she is. Do they know what the other likes anymore? How much has changed?

“I’m sure I will,” she insists.

They drive in comfortable silence, the low hum of Nate’s truck the only sound filling the air. When she chances a glance at him, she’s met with his calm expression, the familiar curve of his nose, his pursed lips. His concentration is clear as day, and she can’t quite place why it’s so endearing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. He drives about twenty feet more before he’s pulling off the main road. Immediately, they’re both bouncing on their seats, the uneven terrain jerking them back and forth. Just as she opens her mouth to ask him what’s happening, Nate puts the car in park and kills the engine. Wordlessly, he opens his door, stepping around the truck quickly to pull hers open for her. He holds a hand out to her to help her step down, and keeps a firm hold on it when she’s safely on the ground.

“Nate?” She says finally, head cocked in confusion. They’re parked in the middle of an open field, nothing but trees and the setting sun around them. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s not exactly sure what she should be expecting. “What-“

“Trust me,” he cuts in. He smiles at her when she nods, then leads her toward the back of his truck. He lowers the tailgate with his free hand, then reaches for a handle on the cover. His grip finally drops as he clicks the handle into place and walks the cover back toward the cab. Inside it, pillows and blankets cover the bed of the truck, a Yeti cooler stashed into the corner. When she catches his eye again, he’s sheepish, a bashful smile on his face. “I thought it’d be nice to just sit under the stars for a while.”

“Nathan…” it comes out in a sigh, and she’s thankful for the darkening sky that’s hiding her growing smile. She knows it’ll instantly give away how smitten she is, and that’s a conversation she’s not quite ready to have yet.

“Is it okay?” The hesitation in his voice has her jumping to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s perfect,” she rushes.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Let’s get you up then.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, or really even process his comment before he steps over to her, lifting her easily around the waist and hoisting her up. As soon as her feet are planted in his truck, he gives her a little nudge forward, and climbs in after her. “Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he insists. He busies himself pulling out a flashlight, flicking it on and sitting it in the middle of the truck bed. Next, he’s grabbing food out of his cooler, placing them gingerly beside the flashlight. She merely watches in awe as item after item is taken out: plates, forks, glasses, crackers, cheese, wine, fruits. He’d thought of everything.

“It’s not a meal,” he reasons, “but I figured it’s better than nothing.” He produces a corkscrew from his pocket, then sets in on getting the wine bottle open.

“Nate, it’s wonderful,” she insists. She takes the stemless wine glass as he hands it to her, smiling softly. “Though I’m a little surprised to see you willingly eating carbs and drinking alcohol.” She cracks a grin when he rolls his eyes, making a show of bringing his glass up and taking a large gulp.

“Et tu?” Nate groans, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“You’ve read all the articles, then? Keeping tabs on me?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nathan.” Her expression is hard, a no nonsense frown on her face. “You do not disappoint anyone.”

He sighs, and passes her a plate of various snacks, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I don’t know how true that is.”

“I do. You’re being hard on yourself.”

He considers for a moment, shrugging. “Maybe. But I need to be. It keeps me disciplined.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before popping a cut piece of fruit into her mouth. “I don’t think you need help in that department.”

“I started seeing a sports psychologist,” he mumbles. It catches her off guard, his admission, but it fills her with pride all the same. The Nate she knew before never would’ve taken that step, and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone about it. That’s growth.

“How’s that been?”

“I like it. Kinda helps me take a step back from things and visualize what I want and how to get there.” He hesitates, opening his mouth before closing it quickly.

“Sounds like there’s a but there?”

“But I don’t know that it's enough.”

“In what way? Like you need more help with your mental health?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I guess with hockey and stuff. It just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “It feels like I’ve put in the work, and have gotten no results.”

“Because you haven’t won shit?” She offers. She cracks a grin when Nate looks up at her, expression blank. This only serves to make her giggle, and as much as she wants to blame it on the wine, she knows it’s the way Nate shakes his head and cracks a grin right alongside her.

“I haven’t won shit,” he agrees.

“You will.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

She brings her glass up, polishing off the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down. Hesitantly, she scoots forward a bit more, until her knees bump against his. His eyes draw up to hers slowly, the icy blue stealing the breath from her lungs. “Because I know you, Nathan. And you were born to do this.”

“It’s really not feeling like it these days.” There’s so much defeat in his voice it makes her chest tighten. On a whim, she reaches over and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his wrist slowly. “Feels more like I can’t do anything right.”

She wants desperately to reassure him, tell him his mind is wrong and playing tricks on him but she knows that isn’t what he needs. He has to navigate this himself. She can offer him support, but this is something he has to figure out on his own.

“I went first overall, I should be doing more for the team. It’s just been first or second round exits year after year. I can’t get us out of this hole.”

“It isn’t only up to you,” she reminds him. “If you feel you’re not playing up to your standards that’s one thing, but you can’t play every position. It’s not fair to entirely blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Maybe I made a mistake with all of this.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing. “With hockey?”

He nods. “Hockey, life. I don’t know. What if I chose wrong?”

“Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that bud,” she says. She hesitates a moment, gathering herself. “For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t choose wrong. Things have been a bit bleak, sure, but you are far too talented to not share that gift with the world.”

Nate’s gaze catches hers, and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. When concern floods his features, she knows he’s felt it too. “You cold? C’mere.” He gives her no time to respond, just leans himself back against the pillows and reaches for a blanket. Once it’s situated over him, he pulls her in close against his side until her cheek is against his chest and his arm is around her back. The blanket gets tugged up to cover her too, and they lay together, cocooned in the blankets under the stars.

“Better?” Nate rasps, and truly, yes. This has made things better. Being so close to him, warm and safe - this is the first time she’s been able to take a deep breath in a long time. But she can’t admit that to him. So she gives a soft murmur in agreement and shuts her eyes to commit this moment to memory.

“I’m proud of you Nate,” she says eventually. “I know that doesn’t really help with all this, but I’m not the only one, ya know? We’re all rooting for you.” She tilts her head up, staring straight into his eyes. It makes her lose her breath, especially when he gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate how much you believe in me,” he whispers. “It does help.” He draws his fingers up slowly, tickling them against the exposed skin where her sweatshirt has ridden up. It forms goosebumps immediately, and she cuddles in even closer, out of instinct. “Being here has been like coming up for air.” He sighs, eyes softening even further. “And seeing you-“

“Nate-“

“Don’t,” he rushes. “We have an agreement, right? You’re mine for the weekend?” The hopeful expression on his face guts her, but she nods. She is. For the weekend.

“Yes,” she agrees. She tilts her chin up far enough for her nose to bump against his jaw, nuzzling it. “I don’t wanna think about after.”

“Then don’t.” He cranes his neck further, until their breath mixes. “Just be here with me.” Gently, so gently, he kisses her. It’s just a tentative brush at first, but it sets her body on fire. Within seconds, she’s hauling herself even closer to him, dropping her body over his as she deepens the kiss. She feels Nate’s big hands come up to grip her hips, keeping her close.

It’s not desperate and frenzied, but it still has her heart racing. The sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips has her sighing, melting into him. It’s comfortable, warm and familiar, like coming home. She knows she can’t dwell on that thought, so she pours everything she can into Nate instead. Kisses him breathless, then comes back for more.

When Nate breaks away, he lets his head fall back to the pillows, a tiny grin on his face. “I’ve missed this, babe. Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nate.” She admits, to herself just as much as she does him. It feels monumental to do so, but she lets herself have this moment; snuggles closer into Nate’s arms and kisses his neck. They have the weekend, and she’s not going to ruin that.

~

Reality starts to feel a bit distorted after laying with Nate in his truck. In a way, it feels like they’re existing inside a bubble - one that gives them a taste of the road not taken. It’s addicting, with the potential to be heart wrenchingly painful if she’s not careful. But part of her knew she’d end up here. Her and Nate had been so strong before fear crept into her mind. The problem now is figuring out how, if at all, this influences her real life that she’ll be getting back to sooner rather than later.

And Nate, bless his heart, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this as hard as possible for her. He’d taken the “I call the shots” agreement to heart, planning the entire next day for them to spend together. He arrives at her house thankfully much later in the morning than the day prior, with iced Timmy’s in tow. He leaves a dozen doughnuts and two extra coffees on the counter for her parents, flashing that heart melting smile when she insists he didn’t have to go to the trouble.

“It’s no trouble,” he insists as they’re climbing into his truck. He immediately reaches to crank the heat for her, tugging his seatbelt across his body.

“Well thank you,” she says. “What’s on the docket today?”

He eases the truck out onto the road, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Only when they’re settled into the lane does Nate glance over at her. “Thought we’d drive down to Peggy’s Cove. Walk around a little bit. See the lighthouse?”

Her face lights up at the mere mention. Peggy’s Cove is about an hour from Cole Harbour, and it’s always been one of her favorite day trips. There’s something so wonderfully calming about the shoreline, at any time of year. “Sounds good to me,” she says.

She’s pleased to find how at ease she feels beside Nate on the drive down. They happily flick through radio stations, singing along completely off key. Her cheeks start to hurt from the wide smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, all thanks to Nate. And god, what a thought that is. She’d certainly never entertained the idea of meeting up with Nate at home, nor did she think she’d find herself riding around in his truck. It feels like an alternate reality and surprisingly, the thought doesn’t put a damper on her mood. It just makes her enjoy it all the more.

Before long, Nate is pulling into a deserted parking lot along the shore. He kills the engine then looks over at her, smiling softly. “Shall we?” When she nods, Nate climbs out of the truck and races around to grab her door for her.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but it's freezing, even bundled up against the cold. Despite her tightly wound scarf the wind nips her cheeks harshly as soon as she closes his door. In front of them, waves are crashing against the covered rocks, a soothing symphony filling the air. There's chunks of ice floating in the water, and she shakes her head at just how picture-esque it all is. A rare blue sky day in late December, the sun breaking through the small clouds, its rays reflecting off the snow on the rocks.

Nate turns to her, offering his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His gloved fingers wrap firmly around hers, and they start to slowly walk toward, squinting to see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” she admits. “I don’t know how I forgot how beautiful it is.”

“I’ve always loved it here,” Nate says. She glances at him, sees his pink cheeks, his hair blowing in every direction. It makes something in her chest tighten, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. They make their way closer to the lighthouse silently, simply taking it all in.

As they approach the darker rocks, Nate stops suddenly, tugging her into him. His arms go around her shoulders, keeping her close. “This okay?” He whispers.

“Yes,” she breathes. More than okay, she wants to say. It’s touching really, that he’d drive all this way just to stand there with her and stare at a lighthouse. It’s reminiscent of the early days in their relationship, before the drama and the uncertainty, when all they needed was to be together. “Thanks for bringing me Nate.”

He hums, his cheek pressing against the side of her head. “Thanks for wanting to be here.”

She can feel that his words have a much deeper meaning behind them, though she chooses to take them at face value. It's clear they’re going to continue to dance around the obvious, even if it’s rehashing something they’d already settled on. It’s just for the weekend; there’s no realistic way it could be more and they can’t put that kind of pressure on each other. But even though all of this is true, it doesn’t change the way being with him makes her feel. It doesn’t take the warmth out of his smile, or the fondness from his eyes. So maybe she is breaking her own heart here, but what other choice does she have?

***

She and Nate spend much of their day wandering through the small fishing village. They stroll down the boardwalk, through small boutiques and touristy souvenir shops. Nate happily walks through every single open door, stopping to sign an autograph or take a photo every now and then when they happen upon another person. He has no qualms about waiting for her to browse in the bookshop, instead spending his time posted up on a comfortable chair, petting the store cat with a smile on his face.

After a late lunch at the only restaurant in town, they get back on the road, headed for Cole Harbour. Conversation in the car is light and casual, both just catching the other up on life’s nuances they haven’t been privy to in years. It’s more than just work: it’s the song that made Nate cry because it reminded him of leaving for the US when he was just a child, it’s the countless seafood meals she’s turned down in her adult life because nothing can compare to the luxuries of home. The conversation never lulls, though it does veer significantly off course when they spot the ‘welcome to Cole Harbour’ sign approaching in the distance.

“Nate, pull over!” She insists. She’s digging through her bag, ignoring his request for an explanation. After a few seconds, she emerges victorious, holding up a black marker and a piece of paper. She smoothes it out as best she can on his dashboard, then unhooks her seatbelt. “Do you have any tape?”

“What do you need tape for?” Nate asks. He earns himself a pointed look, one that says ‘don’t ask questions’. He sighs, then flips open the center console. “I think I have some stick tape lying around…”

While he tracks that down, she gets to work writing, keeping her arm strategically placed so he can’t glance over her shoulder to sneak a peek. Just a few seconds later, he’s setting the tape down next to her hand and looking at her expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she grins. She picks up her sign and the tape, opens the door to his truck and hops down onto the road. It's not very busy, thankfully, but Nate is immediately concerned all the same.

He calls out her name, quickly following after her as she walks. “You can’t just get out of the car on a main road and walk away,” he insists, but she’s not listening to him. She’s still making her way forward, toward the welcome sign and the townline. Once she’s standing in front of it, he watches as she pulls up the tape, ripping it with her teeth. The piece of paper is held against the welcome sign, then secured with tape, and she steps back with a satisfied smile on her face. The writing doesn’t become clear until Nate is standing beside her, and once it does, he bursts into laughter.

Attached to the bottom of the sign, where it reads ‘Home of Sidney Crosby’, she’d taped up her own: “and Nathan MacKinnnon”.

“I’ll have to get a proper one commissioned, but I thought this would do for now,” she grins. As she locks eyes with Nate, she feels her heart start racing. He seems happy, but she doesn’t want to assume he’s not just saving face and she’s made him uncomfortable.

Wordlessly, he closes the space between them, gathering her into his arms. “You’re just- you’re so wonderful.” He doesn’t give her the time to respond, just leans in and kisses her, hard and long. It sets her world on end, she gasps for air when he pulls away.

“Nate-“

“You wanna come to my place?” He asks against her lips, eyes hooded. A brief nod is all that’s needed to get him moving, guiding her back to his truck and opening the door for her.

___

Her hands are trembling when they pull up to Nate’s house. Nate grins at her, taking her hand over the shifter once he parks. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. There’s an unspoken understanding in the air, tension hanging between them. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch her eye. “You alright?”

Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Nate almost misses it. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “It’s been such a long time and I really want this to be good for you-“

Nate cuts in, brow furrowed. “Look at me.” He waits until she draws her eyes up to continue. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I mean, I do want to,” she interjects. “I just- what if it’s not… good?”

He actually snorts when he hears this. He’s under no impression they’ve lost that spark over the years. It’s always been good, and he knows it will continue to be. But the hesitance on her face is suggesting she’s not thinking the same way he is. “It’s going to be incredible,” he insists. “Just like it always was.”

“We were kids, Nate. I’m worried it won’t be.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m worried I won’t be any good.”

He drops her hand, turning in his seat until he’s able to cup both of her cheeks. Then he draws her head up until she’s looking at him again. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, and you’ve been driving me crazy since the day I saw you in the grocery store. I know you’re going to blow my mind.” She hesitates for a moment, but then she’s nodding as best she can with the way he’s holding her. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I’m done waiting.”

This is all the confirmation that Nate needs. He keeps his hands firmly planted on her cheeks and leans in, kissing her hungrily. He slides his tongue into her mouth, groaning when he feels her fingers crawl up to grip his hair tightly. She leans even closer to him, pressing her chest against his, letting him feel every inch of her torso. His eyes are half lidded when he breaks away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Her eyes blink open, and Nate’s smiling softly at her. His eyes are soft, filled with longing, and her stomach is doing flips. It’s tenfold when he climbs out of the driver’s seat, coming around to take her hand and help her step down. He laces their fingers, leading her up the short pathway and in the front door. They shed their shoes and their cold weather gear there, tossing it unceremoniously toward the built in to the right. They’ll deal with the mess later.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is low, raspy, and she’s shaking her head immediately. She’s of a one track mind now, and it seems that Nate picks up on that. He takes the initiative to walk her up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers. He rests his hands on her waist, lingering at the hem of her soft t-shirt. When he sees her nod, it’s up and over her head in a hurry, exposing her smooth skin. Nate’s eyes greedily take in every inch of her chest, and she’s surprised she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself.

She feels a surge of confidence shoot through her; the way Nate is looking at her fueling her ego. It makes her bold, and she pushes back on his shoulders until he’s stepping backwards, and eventually, falling onto the bed. Then, she climbs into his lap, her hair falling around them like a curtain when she leans down over him. “Are you just going to look?” She asks, and the challenge in her voice ignites something inside Nate.

Before she can blink, she finds herself on her back with Nate crawling over her. He reaches up and tugs off his shirt, smirking at her sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t take much time to gloat, choosing instead to draw her in for another kiss. His hands make quick work of her bra, tossing it across the room carelessly. His lips trail down her chest, mouthing at the supple flesh, and swirling his tongue around her nipples. He revels in the breathy sounds falling from her lips when he bares his teeth.

“Nathan, please touch me,” she whines. She wriggles underneath him, trying to draw him up, get his mouth back on hers.

“Patience, my girl,” he mumbles. He kisses the tip of her nose before he sits back, eyes taking in her form. Her hair is splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed, and pupils blown wide. He slides his fingertips over the red marks he’d left on her breasts, dragging the rough pads down until they’re toying with the waistband of her pants. He glances up at her again, eyebrows lifted to check in, make sure this is still what she wants. He earns himself a frustrated groan and a “come on, Nate”, which he takes as the green light. He slides everything down in one move, leaving her completely bare to him. “God, look at you,” he breathes. He pushes her legs open wider to accommodate the bulk of his shoulders before he drops down onto his stomach. His eyes never leave hers as he leans in close, kissing up her thighs until he’s inches away from her throbbing center.

She tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut to try to regain control of herself. Her body is thrumming with anticipation, desperate for Nate to do anything. After a few seconds, she’s rewarded for her patience. Nate licks a long strip up from her entrance to her clit, chuckling against her when she gasps. Immediately, her hands fly to his hair, fingers gripping tightly. Nate flicks his tongue expertly against her before drawing her clit between his lips and sucking. She feels him ghosting his fingers over her lips, the soft tickle making her toes curl. She lets out a moan, and that’s all it takes to get Nate to dive in. He slips two fingers into her dripping entrance, scissoring against the tight suck of her walls.

“Nathan,” she pants, back arching. He’s nibbling on her clit as he seeks that spot inside of her, pumping his fingers in and out quickly. She cries out when he finds it, and Nate presses down hard, keeping his fingers firmly against it while she thrashes against the bed.

She’s sure her grip on his hair has to be painful at this point, but she’s too far gone to care. All she can focus on is the blinding pleasure Nate is giving her. She can feel that coil tightening inside of her, her body wound so tightly she’ll snap back at any given second. When he sucks on her again, she snaps, trapping his face between her legs as she comes, thighs tightening around his head.

Nate keeps his fingers working inside of her as she starts to come down, her breath slowing, though not entirely coming back to her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbs up to his knees, grinning wickedly. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos.

She’s having a hard time replying to him. She can’t get a sentence out, moans tumbling past her lips whenever she opens her mouth. Nate is prolonging her orgasm, keeping her suspended up on cloud nine as he watches her, eyes hungry. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he admits. “Over the years, when I’m on the road late at night. I love to picture you wrapped around me instead of my hand, squeezing me so tight. You feel so good around my fingers; I can’t even imagine how you’ll feel around my cock. Will you let me have you? Sink deep inside of you and fuck you open, my girl?”

She cries out again, nodding quickly. She grips his forearm tightly, eyes rolling back. “Please Nate,” she chokes out. “God, please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he swears. He leans down and kisses her again, stealing the air from her lungs. He tugs his sweatpants down as best he can with one hand, sighing against her lips when his cock springs free.

Slowly, she draws her eyes up from his cock, enjoying the sight of his clenched stomach muscles, and the strain of his bent forearm. Everything about Nate is absolutely gorgeous. He’s just so big; so wide and cut, and god, he’s going to be the death of her. She grips his shoulders tightly, mouth going dry at the muscles her fingers trace over. She’s trying to commit every moment to memory, the soft pants falling from Nate lips, the way his eyes are nearly black with desire. It’s so different than it had been before, but somehow the same. They’ve both matured so much- confidence emanating off of them now, but that giddiness is still there. That schoolyard crush that makes your heart beat faster and your hands shake. Her head is swimming, with desire, and the disbelief that this is truly happening. That they’d found a way to have this happen again.

She whines when he draws his fingers out of her, the loss leaving her feeling empty, and she clenches around the air. “I’ve got you,” Nate promises her. He reaches over her head to the bedside table and comes back with a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before sliding it down his throbbing cock. Her fingers are still gripping his shoulders tightly, and there’s no way her nails aren’t biting into his skin but Nate doesn’t say a word. He just runs a soothing hand down her torso and grips her hips, holding her still as he lines himself up with her entrance. His eyes are locked with hers as he presses forward, the blunt head of his cock drawing a gasp when he slips inside. He’s so wide; her walls are already straining to accommodate him, the burn of the stretch making her heart pound. Nate takes his time pressing into her, letting her accommodate for his size. As he pushes in, he’s whispering soft reassurances to her, telling her how beautiful she is, and how good she feels.

He grips her waist tightly when he’s fully sheathed, his big hands wrapping around her. “Okay?” He whispers. She can see the strain of holding back on his face, the need to make sure she’s alright before he can let himself go and enjoy this.

“Perfect,” she assures. “Please, Nate.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his hips back before snapping himself forward, burying himself even deeper. She’s impossibly tight and wet around him, drawing him in and clinging to him. It doesn’t take long for him to build up a steady rhythm and when he does, he feels like a man possessed. He’s holding her down against the bed, watching as her breasts bounce and her mouth falls open in pleasure. He feels her drag her nails down his back and he groans, driving into her even harder. The force of his hips is pushing her up the bed, leaving her breathless and begging for him.

“I’m so close,” she pants. “Please Nate, touch me.” Her eyes are shining when she looks up at him. He obliges, sliding his right hand down to press his fingers to her clit. Within seconds, she’s coming around him, clamping down on him as she cries out his name. Nate fucks her straight through it, his hips slapping against her ass as he chases his own release.

He kisses her desperately when he feels his body tightening. When her tongue sweeps against his, he’s gone. He drives in and holds himself there as he comes, a grunt falling from his lips. When he’s able to come back into himself, he reaches down, holding onto the condom as he slowly pulls out. He kisses her cheek in apology when she winces, tying the condom off and tossing it into the trash just after. He runs a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing before he stands. He grabs the first hand towel he can find in the on suite bathroom, running it under the tap and bringing it back into her bedroom wordlessly.

She’s still spread out on the bed where he’d left her, her arm thrown up over her eyes as her chest heaves. He drags the towel between her legs, cleaning her up carefully, before the towel too gets tossed to the floor. “You doing okay?” He whispers. He drops down onto the bed beside her, manhandling her body until she’s lying on her side, facing him.

“Wonderful,” she says, and that’s the understatement of the century. “Was, was I okay?”

Nate’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding immediately. “That was unbelievable. God, the way you feel-” He cuts himself off, dropping his head onto a pillow dramatically. “It’s amazing how good we still are together.” She peers up at him, sees his eyes closed and the small, happy smile on his face. It makes her heart twist in her chest, her throat tightening. Realization hits her like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. None of this is real. He’s not her Nate anymore, and damn it, how is she going to walk away from this?

“I can hear the gears whizzing around in there,” he teases. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

She hesitates, debates deflecting- telling him it’s nothing and avoiding the discussion she knows they should have. They’re adults now, this is the kind of thing they need to discuss, but she’s scared. “Nate,” she sighs, feels tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just-“

“You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.” His voice is low. It isn’t accusatory, it’s just sad, like a punch straight to the stomach. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Hot tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, pooling on the pillow case.

“It’s feeling pretty broken right now.”

This has her swallowing hard, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to.” It’s barely a whisper. “But I don’t think there’s another choice.”

“Of course there is,” he assures her. “There’s always another choice.”

“Not when it leads right back where we broke in the first place.”

“Don’t think about that. Tell me what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It does matter,” Nate insists. “What the hell are we doing in this life if we’re not trying to find happiness?” His eyes search her face, drinking in every feature. “What would make you happy?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You. But-“

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. No buts. I would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “There’s too many variables, and it will lead us right back where we started.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

She sighs. “How can you know that?”

Nate reaches a tentative hand out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Because we know better. We can make better choices together. I know you don’t want to be a WAG, and I’m not going to put that on you. If you want to stay in Florida, okay. If you want to move to Denver, okay. If you want to move back to Canada, that’s okay too. We’ll make whatever you decide work. I just want you.”

“You… you want that?”

“If it involves you, I want it.” He’s so adamant, speaking with such conviction she can’t entertain any other thought. She scoots closer to him on the bed, molding herself against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I really want this to work, Nate,” she says. “I really, really want that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I told you, I’m not letting you go again. I mean it.”

[outrunningthedark]

So I am curious - if you don''t think Buddie is anywhere near a sure thing why are you so confident Marisol is temporary? Are they just going to cycle through girlfriends endlessly? That would be so unpleasant and unsatisfying.

This is just my read on things, but with the way Tim puts ZERO effort into Eddie's love life (Shannon, though Chris's mom, did not become important to the plot in the second half of season two until it was time for her to be killed off) and then uses the "extra time" to reinforce Buck and Eddie's relationship, or Buck's close bond with Chris, I believe his intention is for Eddie to eventually realize he's attracted to men one day. (He just needs to get everyone on this same page.) I know it feels like we're "cycling through girlfriends", but if you think about it, Eddie's only had two (canon) relationships after Shannon, including this one. By keeping Eddie in a relationship in a shortened season, Tim has bought himself time to explore/expand on Eddie's inner struggles with commitment (and intimacy?) next season when he'll be single again, which will bring us to season nine and...we'll see what happens when we get there. The main thing to remember about Eddie is that his love life is not a driving force behind his behavior the way it has been for Buck. Sure, some members of the general audience can and will wonder when he's finally gonna find a wife and a "new mom" for Chris, but keeping the focus on his time with the 118 or his conversations with Buck or a Chris scene WITH Buck (like we're getting in the premiere! thanks, Timothy!) is going to help the audience pay attention to what's really important instead of, say, taking note of how sad it is for Eddie to be flying solo while inviting his BFF and BFF's girlfriend over for dinner. (🫠)

[luckyqueenreign]

This season of LITG has so far been so good. I wonder what happened that forced them to push the update a week… because it’s clear this “meet the OG girls” was slapped together in the matter of hours and thrown up on the app. If you haven’t played it yet and want to know if it’s worth it….it’s not. We already know what all of the girls look like and the girls don’t really say anything new or interesting.

Here’s the gist of what all of the girls said..

Estelle: Alex isn’t the type of guy she normally goes for but she wants to try something new and she thinks he’s hot.. she can’t tell right now if just friendship vibes or more and she doesn’t wanna lock things in too early like Daphne and Raf. She thinks they come off looking forced. She loves all of the girls but Willow is her bestie… she mentioned asking alex about sharing a bed. I mean it’s a given on love island especially as an og, we’ve never asked to share a bed with someone so I thought that was weird.

Daphne: poor girl, she would benefit from some acupuncture and micellar water... I felt her reasoning for going after Cassius was actually so real. This is love island you’re supposed to explore your connections and attractions and for her to explore it with Cassius and see she didn’t feel anything I think is part of the process. What I found to be possibly the only interesting thing any of the of girls said was when she was talking about Alex she mentioned that he’s Raf’s bestie and that he would redo her kitchen cabinets but then she gets flirty and blushes and says “That’s not the only reason I like him” EXCUSE ME?!? 🤔👀 I wonder if they’re going to explore this at all or if this was just a random thing they added in to this super rushed update. I guess we’ll see.

Willow: she says she needed a break and her and Bryson aren’t really vibing. I’m sorry to the Bryson girlies but I get what she means, I kind of felt like he was a little annoying and it’s the reason why I couldn’t jump on his route 😬🫣 anywayyy Willow says she normally goes for business bros but it seems like it doesn’t matter what type of guy both types sucked, so she’s hoping for a new bombshell. Is it just me or isn’t Willow perfectly coded to have a friends to lovers type route with MC like a more new and improved Angie route??? Really hope they do bc the wlw routes def need some work. As for the other guys she thinks alex is a hottie, Joyo is gonna take her diving and eek she said it looked like Raf wasn’t that interested in Daphne before they left for casa.

Geri: I’m sorry but immediately I couldn’t focus on anything because they gave her the tiniest hands ever and it somehow makes her head also look bigger. Look at this pic of her and Daphne. Look at the hands!! The poor girls proportions are all off.

Ok ok back to what was said.. her connection to Joyo seems super physical and not much else. The things they have in common are all of the many places they’d want to bone and coffee. Basically she’s unsure of where her couple stands right before casa. She thinks Estelle and Alex are great for other people. She doesn’t seem them vibing or going very far. Daphne and Raf she thinks are vibing hard and she would be shocked if he twisted! This made me think if you’re on the Raf route she might be your enemy but on the Alex route she might be more friendly towards you. (I really hope they explore that) as everyone else has said Bryson is too much of a flirt that it’s hard to tell how he actually feels. She feels like there’s a spark missing with both Joyo and Bryson. She thinks every girl but Daphne is going to twist!! But she mentions we can’t forget history could repeat itself and Daphne could end up twisting too. It would actually be exciting if they had all of the girls twist too BUT I’m thinking that, that would mean no more bombshells for the rest of the season because we would be getting four new boys at once. I doubt they would throw more bombshells in for an already shortened season.

[darkbluekies]

I feel like I need to show that I am not only writing psychopaths and can also write normal, protective characters lmao

I will share 2 of my private novels with you, translated. The names are shortened so that I don't expose them, because I kinda want to keep them private for the future hehe (probably forgot a few places but oh well)

I will show the mood board for the story and a profile I've made for the characters to help you visualize them better (helps me when writing too haha)

Story 1

"Do you want to go out? You haven't been out much, have you?”

HG shook his head. Fresh air could do him good, he thought, but he knew he shouldn't go out alone. If BN was there, it would probably be okay. BN patted his skinny knee twice.

"Good, then we're going out," he decided and stood up. "Wait here. Do you need your cane, do you think?”

“No, I have the IV stand.”

Without answering anything, BN disappeared into the hall, first up the stairs, then down and then away in the narrow corridor to the kitchen and dining room. HG sat in silence, waiting for him to return, which he did five minutes later, wearing his brown coat and HG's beige jacket hanging over his arm. He gestured with his hand for HG to stand up.

"Come on then," he said.

HG pulled himself up from his chair and followed BN out into the hall. BN slung HG'S jacket over his shoulders and frowned at the hose dangling from HG'S left hand. HG pulled his right arm into the sleeve and let his other arm hang free.

“This works,” he said.

"Don't you think you're going to get cold?" BN wondered.

HG shook his head. BN opened one of the double doors, holding it open so HG could get out with his IV stand. The small wheels got stuck in the uneven planks of the porch. Frustrated, HG pried them free and sighed heavily.

"If it sticks here, it'll stick everywhere," HG muttered, biting his lower lip in frustration.

“Should I carry it for you?” BN wondered.

“No, I got it.” HG took another hold and carried it down the stone porch steps. He groaned as he put his feet down on the gravel yard. Anything but hard wood floors were foreign to him. Hesitantly, he took a few tentative steps forward. HG looked away towards the lake and the dark forest.

“Can we go there?” he asked, pointing away towards the fir trees. “Into the woods?”

"Sure," BN replied. “Has it been a long time since you were in a forest?”

HG nodded and swallowed a sad sigh. He had loved to climb trees, had known how to place his feet so as not to fall. It was just that day…

He let BN guide him past the eye-like lake. The reeds near the edges stretched up to the sky.

The ground inside the forest was wet. What HG'S IV stand didn't get stuck on, he tripped over himself. BN took a firm grip on HG'S right arm, not hard enough to hurt him, but a grip strong enough to catch him in case he fell. Few red, yellow and green leaves hung desperately on their branches, as if they knew they would soon be killed and replaced by spring. The sunlight did not reach down to the ground

"I used to see the woods from my bedroom window," said HG, letting his eyes take in the sights around him. "I saw the seasons change from a distance ... it's another thing to see it up close."

“Quite beautiful.”

HG nodded in agreement. There was something youthful about the forest in autumn.

"I have an idea where we can go," BN suggested, nodding towards the fir trees. “I saw a clearing not far from here.”

“Is it within the territory?”

"I didn't see a fence, anyway."

HG couldn't help laughing. "Adequate. Come on, lead the way, then.”

BN took him to an open field where no man had sown, but where there was still tall, yellow grass. The sun beamed down on them. HG squinted up at the sky. BN took off his brown coat and spread it out on the grass. He gestured for HG to sit down. They disappeared into the grass, the only thing still visible was the stand rising above.

"Nice fresh air," BN sighed, resting his head back. He rolled his eyes. “I needed it after that card game. [other character] does not play nice, I can tell you that.”

"Or you're not good enough," said HG teasingly.

BN opened one of his brown eyes and squinted at him with a crooked smile. “I'm fucking phenomenal at card games, how dare you? You and I will play some day and I will teach you not to underestimate me.”

“You must have had a lot of training on the ice anyway. Did you play a lot of card games at home? With your friends?”

BN fell silent. He sat up and hid his hands in his pockets. HG frowned.

"What?" he asked confused. "What is it?"

"I had a card game, but we didn't play very often," BN muttered, squirming, as if trying to get out of his own skin. His voice sounded quieter, almost sad. "That's not what we ... we did."

"'We'?"

BN sighed, seemed to be searching for the right words. His eyes remained downcast. “I'm so glad I came here, HG. And that I got to meet you and the others. You are so different from my friends back in town.”

He brought out his trembling hands. HG remembered how they had been covered in scabs and wounds the first time he had shaken hands with BN. The wounds had healed by now, but the marks of violence still remained.

"I didn't want to tell you, I'm ashamed."

He fell silent again. HG said nothing, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.

"At home, in town, I wasn't very nice," BN continued, shaking his head in despair. “I got into a lot of fights. I didn't know what to do … I didn't want to continue … so I came here.”

HG suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around him, and a warm cheek against his shoulder. He tilted his head towards BN'S and glanced down at his hands.

"Why didn't you want to tell me earlier?" HG wondered.

"I didn't mean to scare you away," BN replied quietly. “I thought you'd be uncomfortable if you knew. You don't like violence.”

“No, I don't, but you don't have to worry about that. That's just stupid.”

BN let go of him and hugged his legs. He smiled sheepishly.

"It feels better now," he laughed briefly. “When I get home, I will stop being with them. I know how I want to be now. With you I can only ... sit. We don't have to do anything. We can just sit and talk. I like it."

HG smiled weakly. He'd never thought he'd have a friend—not someone like BN, anyway. The fear of losing him haunted HG every time he was alone.

BN took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, fished out a narrow cylinder.

"You really should stop that," said HG.

"I have!" BN smiled proudly and shrugged. "In almost all cases. I barely smoke anymore, but I need to calm my nerves after this.”

He lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, drew in a breath and blew out gray, foul-smelling smoke. HG waved his hand in front of them, trying desperately to part the smoke. BN took a sandwich wrapped in a paper out of his pocket and held it out to HG.

“Here,” he said. “I brought it to you.”

“Is this some kind of bribery?” HG grinned weakly and accepted the sandwich, unfolding the paper carefully. "So that I won't complain about your smoke?"

"No, because you haven't eaten anything today."

Story 2

They showed their tickets and identification papers to a man dressed in a black suit who studied the papers carefully. Finally he nodded and stepped aside. OL pushed GS forward first, and then TN.

"Don't push me, I can walk myself," she grumbled.

The compartment had about twenty hard, dirty wooden benches in a row, divided into four-seaters. OL frowned at the stench that had spread, despite half the windows being open. The train began to shake and OL had to grab the wall to keep from falling forward. They made their way through the center aisle until they found an empty bench. It was only built for two, so OL lifted GS onto her lap and wrapped her arms tightly around her slim waist. The nine-year-old amused herself by leaning his head out of the window and feeling the wind in his hair. She laughed and turned her twinkling eyes on OL before popping her head out the window again.

OL turned to TN who looked up from her lap doubtfully. She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers.

"What is it?" OL asked, leaning closer. "Are you okay?"

"Why is everyone staring?" TN whispered so quietly that OL doubted she had said anything. “Did I do something?”

OL bit down and let her eyes wander over the compartment. She was filled with that incomprehensible feeling again. The men in the compartment were like animals, like the magister. They shared the same dark, burning gaze that seemed to shamelessly burn away her clothes. TN didn't understand yet, she didn't understand how beautiful she really was and OL didn't want to tell her.

OL gesticulates for GS to jump to the floor and quickly switched places with TN, shoving her towards the window.

"But I want to look!" GS complained.

"You can still look," reminded OL. "By the way, maybe you shouldn't hang out the window, it could be dangerous."

TN gave her a small, grateful smile which OL returned warmly. She turned her gaze towards the center aisle and glared at those who dared to glance in their direction.

[litfeathers]

I am once again thinking about the nuance and tragedy of the wittebro situation, and especially about the impossible choice Caleb had to make. As a reminder this is what he looked like while he lived in Gravesfield:

TOH is very deliberate about details, especially in the shortened season three, where each second is precious. We can pretty safely all agree that they want us to know that he was miserable.

But then he meets a witch in the woods. And what happens next is important.

He left. Hit da bricks, as the kids say. But we still don’t know exactly how or why Caleb left. Hopkins’ book and the tale of the brothers Wittebane are our only two sources. And they are not exactly reliable for one important reason. There is only one person who could have been a solid primary source for the legend:

Philip.

And knowing his track record, I don’t think he would be above leaving out key details of the story. So we need to take everything we’ve been told with a large grain of salt.

(Btw I’m not including HM in the stuff we know since we don’t have a painting that shows Caleb leaving. So maybe that in itself hints that Philip wasn’t present for it? Hmm. Food for thought, and I digress).

Anyway. Let’s get back on track.

Did Caleb hit his limit with Gravesfield and casually decide to peace out to the BI to chase his bliss? We don’t know!

Did he do something very uncool and leave while Philip was young and still needed a caretaker? We don’t know!

Was Philip also friends with Evelyn? How long were Caleb and Evelyn “very good friends” before he chose to leave with her? Did they try to convince Philip to leave with them, and did Philip refuse? Did Caleb even tell Philip he was leaving? Did Caleb have to escape to the BI in an emergency because he got caught hanging out with a witch? We don’t know!

But what we DO know is that, in some capacity, Caleb had to choose between Gravesfield and the Boiling Isles.

My siblings in Christ, he had to make SUCH a horrible choice. Either way, there is no winning. One one hand you could stay in Gravesfield and be miserable, but also have comfort that you’ve still got your little brother. Your only family. The person that has leaned on you for so long.

But by staying you won’t ever get to fully be yourself. You won’t ever get to relax and enjoy your blossoming relationship with a fascinating new friend, except in shadows and secret.

Because you come from a community of witch hunters. And your friend is a witch.

You will always be looking over your shoulder and wondering and waiting. Waiting to get caught. Waiting to go on trial and possibly die for your illicit actions.

Either way, Caleb is losing something. Pick the Demon Realm and lose Philip. Pick Gravesfield and lose Evelyn. Pick happiness and lose your only family. Pick your only family and lose your passion.

Happiness or misery. Leave or stay. Live or die.

What a heart-wrenching choice.