#i would think he’d want to talk to them bc they’re his real ticket to learning about blitz

[bloomeng]

what i want out of helluva boss?

for Stolas to acknowledge any of the significant people in Blitz’s life. like he supposedly has strong feelings for him yet does he know the names of anyone in IMP? does he know Luna’s name?? how does he feel about Blitz’s obsession with Moxxie and Millie’s relationship??? like we literally know he’s aware of these things; he’s met Moxxie and Millie and Luna multiple times, he seems to know who all of them are, he even was dragged by Blitz to be a plus one to his lil spy session for Moxxie and Millie’s anniversary. he must have thoughts on this, and yet i feel like he never interacts with them. which feels significant bc if you like this guy so much you’re certainly not even trying to get to know the parts of his life that aren’t even a secret!! even fucking Verosika, she was also there that night and that wasn’t addressed.

like sure i wonder how Stolas would feel about Blitz’s relationship to Fizz or even his sister but that all makes sense for him to not know about bc Blitz goes to extreme lengths to not talk about them. but cmon man not his daughter? not his best friend?? shaking my head.

that and real Millie development but that’s a given

[celestianstars]

OK I AM OFFICIALLY IN LOVE WITH THESE TWO! 🥺🥰

Wow oh man my heart is just bursting right now! Your writing is incredible and so real and you can tell this was written with lots of love, I absolutely feel it! @wyn-n-tonic Alison and Joel are everything! I have so many thoughts so forgive me for how long this ramble ends up being, hopefully it’s coherent lol!

Really loving how you wrote things progressing between them through the month, they’re seeing where it goes and while they’re both scared about their feelings and how different but good this is, they don’t shy away and I think it’s because they both feel safe with each other which is something you touch on throughout that really makes their emotional connection stand out! 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾 it’s so beautiful!

Just the small ways Joel opens up about Sarah and later about his past with Sarah’s mom and then likewise for Alison when she opens up about her family (which oh gosh I have so much to say about her going to her grandfathers funeral and her reaching out to Joel after I legit teared up reading that part but ok let me try and focus my thoughts so this makes sense dhdjss) but yeah ahh their little garden picnic date!!!! How sweet! They’re so a couple already at that point!

“He’s lit up in a thousand ways, smile and eyes both bright”

This line right here 🥺 the way Joel talks about Sarah, his baby just makes me melt, he’s such a loving father and I adore how you’ve highlighted the way he cares for her and how she’s part of his life here! His hesitation when he’s like wait maybe we shouldn’t be together because you and Sarah together would be an ordeal lmao which made me think of Ali and Sarah teasing him and shit, he’d act annoyed but you know he’d love it too!

Also love how Alison was gonna pay for the garden tickets but Joel beat her to it lmao! And just the way they talk to each other, their banter, the things they talk about, they fit so well together ahhh!

“The people pleaser that I am probably would’ve jumped in bed with him on the first date if that’s what he had wanted but it wasn’t.”

Oh she’s sooo real for this line bc same about people pleasing! And it also touches on how Joel is different from her previous experiences, cause that isn’t what he wanted from the get go, this whole thing with him is different and I like that it creates a bit of an internal struggle for Alison because it isn’t what she’s used to but she likes it and is finding that she can keep taking steps because yes the ground (Joel) is safe, sturdy, good…yeah…yeah 🥺 beautiful!

The sprinkles of Alison’s daily life and her times at work are so nice and immersive to read too! Feels like you’re right there with her, going through her day and especially when she’s with Joel, which is just a testament to your writing! I literally said “yup” out loud reading the part where Alison was telling Joel about Greg and how he transferred to peds after seeing a severed arm cause yeah I’ll take mangled limbs any day over seeing a little kiddo sick or in pain, any time I get a pediatric patient (which for context isn’t often cause my hospital doesn’t really do pediatrics) for like a tooth extraction or taking out their tonsils in the OR it’s definitely a little harder that any other gruesome thing I’ve seen cause for sure! But I say all that to say that little details like that in this story just really ground it and make it feel sooo real like I’m reading but also watching a movie play out and I loveeee it!

I also like how there’s the aspect of other peoples opinions about her and Joel, people in her life, his life, noticing them, her teasing her about it but also warning her and then Drea kinda mirroring the same words that yeah Joel is deep in the trenches for her too! And then Tommy lmao I love his goofy ass, their interaction at the construction site was so cute! Like stop why is he already like her big brother in law I can’t take it! 💕 I love Tommy!

Eeeep and ok now to talk about Alison and Joel’s growing physical connection!!! Their dinner date at the house was so domestic and wholesome and so much more intimate with the interruption I have to agree with miss Ali, there’s something about the high level of intimacy about checking on him and asking how Sarah is doing, I’m so soft at how she left a trash can and some meds and liquids out for them while he was out picking her up! It’s the little things! Those acts of care!

But man I just love how steamy things got between them, the way Joel handles her is so sexy it’s insane! The petnames, the “sweetheart”s and “baby”s kill me! Even before when they’re watching a movie and he doesn’t let her shy away from stretching her feet out and then how he shows he’s looking out for her as he always is with this line

“Or go on to sleep? I know you’ve had a long day, baby.”

🥺😍 it’s ok I’m fine! He’s so sweet I can’t, I love him sm

And then him showing his care for her still up in his room when he’s undressing her…legit got shivers ma’am how dare you do this to me!

“You tell me any time you want to stop,” he tells me, tucking a curl behind my ear. “I don’t care how far we’ve already gone, you say stop and that’s it, sweetheart. Do you understand?”

The seriousness of it, like stern but not in a bad way, just in a way that he’s making sure she understands that he’s going to respect her limits, which in itself is so sexy just the way it’s worded, I can just hear his voice I’m dyingggg!

Their conversation about Sarah putting the pieces together, her comment about him sounding like Rice Krispies and Ali calling him an old man! More cuteness that’s making me melt! I really do love how much Sarah is weaved into their dynamic cause of course it’s important, like Ali said she’s part of him and it just feels so wholesome watching them go about their feelings and their connection while also taking into consideration Sarah’s feelings and her life, it helps make it all feel v real which I know I keep saying and hope it’s not annoying but idk it just ties this story together super well!

And finally, I just wanted to say reading Alison overwhelmed and upset about her family hit real close to home, being away from home and around people you don’t really know or have strained family relationships with his so tough and it reminded me of experiences of my own and god I just feel for her, she’s such a wonderful person and doesn’t deserve any of that shit and I was so happy to read that she called Joel and confided in him and although she cried and felt embarrassed for it, he reassured her and comforted her through it, he got protective and caring the second she called and he realized she was crying, that just meant a lot to me and I really love that she felt she could call him and then him picking her up after her flight back even though she said not to worry about it….I really did get emotional! ❤️

I could probably go on forever about all the little details but yeah these were some of the big things that stood out to me and made this such a great read, a great second chapter and I cannot wait for more, the way you’ve got me hooked!!!! The talent! Your mind! Brilliant! 💌💌💌 loved every single word of this, friend!

Days of You & Me: February

Word Count: 16.1k+ Warnings: Hospital talk (severe injury, sick children, etc). Eating disorder. Non-penetrative sexual activity. Body image. Strained familial relationships. Author's Note: A labor of love that had my beloved @darnitdraco sending a wild amount of messages during the beta reading stage. All the thanks in the world to my Carlie and @tauralmie for all their help, encouragement and suggestions for this series. The way I describe his house is based off of how it is designed in the video game as I cannot find a detailed mock up of the one in the show.

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February 2, 2003: 

He’s a singer.

I mean… I knew he was on some level. I had to with the humming but he’s stayed relatively quiet around me until now.

“Sarah hates my singing,” he says when he catches me staring. “Says it’s embarrassing. How is me singing in the privacy of my own home or car embarrassing to her?”

“Maybe you have ghosts.”

“Don’t”—he wags his finger—“Do not side with her on this, I get enough shit from her.” 

It’s damn near eighty degrees today and he’s put the windows down, insisting on driving to the gardens if I insist on paying for a date. He’d insist on driving no matter what after he saw me back into a mail box. Joel doesn’t accept the excuse that I did it because he was looking at me and I got nervous. 

“Why are you just staring at me, sweetheart?” He looks over again, one hand on the steering wheel with the other resting on my bare knee. “Do you actually want me to stop? Because I will.” 

“I just like looking at you,” I tell him. His nose is starting to heal, revealing the soft curve of it. Last week, he said that maybe the missing ingredient was that I just needed to kiss it better. That was sometime after he took me out onto the patio at the bar and slow danced with me to the end of the set.

The rest of the world seems to have had the same idea that I did, a picnic basket full of sandwiches and some wine disguised as juice, and the closest parking spot is the farthest from the entrance. But when he puts his hand in mine, it’s not something I mind at all.

He’s humming again in line, my hand brought up to his lips occasionally to place a vibrated kiss into my knuckles.

“You know, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he says.

He puts it out there casually in the tone I’ve come to associate with his quiet insecurities.

Blocking the sun from my eyes, I look up at him. His hair looks so much lighter in the sun while his skin turns golden. Yesterday, I found myself thinking about what he’d look like in ten years; in twenty.

“How so?”

Joel shrugs. “Just keep wondering if the whole kid thing will push you away.”

“But if it did, would you want to date me anyway?” I ask him. “Surely, the kind of person you want in your life is somebody who can accept the fact that you’re a father.”

He’s handing his credit card over for two tickets before I even finish my sentence, my own wallet half fished out of my purse.

“If anything is the other shoe, Joel, it's that you won’t let me take you out.”

“You bring me lunch sometimes,” he shrugs. “You’ll just have to be quicker on the draw next time, sweetheart.” 

Joel’s hand drops to the small of my back as he guides me through the doors, stride matching mine in beat. As I head towards the picnic area, however, his grip curves around my waist and he pulls me in the opposite direction, a small shake of his head when I start to protest. 

“We’re not eating near people, I want to kiss you.”

“And would you want to kiss somebody who isn’t accepting of the fact that you’re a father?”

He stops in the middle of the pathway and pulls me over to the side, lips crushed into mine before we’ve even found proper footing. 

“No,” his breath ghosts into mine. “I wouldn’t.”

We’ve laid the blanket out in a small clearing, an old UT Austin throw I bought in freshman year, outside a little structure made of stone that looks more like it belongs in an Italian tourism magazine than the middle of Texas. 

“What's she like?” I ask him. “I mean… if you’re comfortable telling me.”

Kneeling in front of me, organizing the contents of the picnic basket, he stops for a second and looks somewhere past me.

“Is there a bee?”

Shaking his head, he whispers, “calm down, ain’t no bee next to your ear. I’m just trying to figure out how much I should tell you before I—“

“Scare me off?”

Half a smile and a forced laugh, he nods. “Yeah.”

“Joel,” I lean towards him, waiting until his eyes are on mine. “My mom was a really young, single mother so I get it. Maybe not on your side, but on hers? Definitely.”

He scratches at his facial hair, grown back out, and sits next to me, leaving the picnic basket abandoned. “She’s-uh…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and then laughs again. “She's a fucking spitfire and so funny.”

“Yeah?”

He’s lit up in a thousand ways, smile and eyes both bright.

“She’s whip smart and likes soccer, talks a million miles a minute sometimes. She’s a good kid, too. You know? I know some parents talk about their kids like they’re precious little angels when they’re really the spawn of Satan but Sarah actually has that damn halo. She kicks my ass in video games and then doesn’t let me forget it and—actually, no.” He goes to stand up, knees popping as he does. “Maybe we shouldn’t be a thing, the two of you eventually meeting would be a disaster for me. I’m not sure I can take that much damage.”

Before I can even pull at his pant leg, he’s kneeling back down beside me, large hands framing my face. “I'm kidding,” he whispers. “I think you’ll really like her, though. At least, I hope you will. She worries about me a lot. I-I wish she didn’t, I’m grateful for it though. I hear a lot of guys around the sites talk about how their kids fucking hate them, she hasn’t hit that stage yet.”

There’s pride in his voice. Protection too.

“She’s a huge reason why I don’t really date,” he continues. “That probably sounds horrible—“

“I don’t think that sounds horrible,” I tell him. “I think that’s smart. You focused on your baby.”

Joel’s smile is wide. “Yeah, I focused on my baby… but I was seeing somebody for a while when she was much younger and I didn’t know any better. She was in Sarah’s life pretty much as soon as we became a thing and it’s because I didn’t have a babysitter, I didn’t really have money, so my dates had to be at my house.” He rubs at his eye and takes a deep breath.

“What happened?” 

He shakes his head. “I don't know but Sarah got really attached and then one day she was just gone and I’m not the kind of guy who shows up at a woman’s job wanting to talk.” 

I raise my eyebrows at him and he corrects himself. “Except you but that was different. If you decided tomorrow that you want nothing to do with me, then that's that.”

“Well, I’ll let you know how I feel when I wake up in the morning,” I tell him.

He twists, planting himself next to me, and leans close the way he was that night at the bar. “What can I do to sway you?” 

Sweat beads along his temple, mixed already with his cologne in the late morning, lunchtime sun. I like how warm he smells, allspice and vanilla and coffee mixing with the heat of his breath on my ear.

“You're doing it right now,” I tell him.

Bowing his head, he presses his lips to my bare shoulder, real kisses following butterfly kisses all the way to the crook of my neck. 

I’m so afraid of the way I feel about him already. Everything I’ve ever had has been intense and immediate, fizzling out after good sex I only later realize was bad and I haven’t even had that in a long time. This is intense, it has been immediate, but not in the way every other time was. 

He looks like an Old Hollywood actor, the kind that would thrive on black and white film. Joel has an interesting face. Far from ugly but far from the All American definition of sex appeal and six packs pushed in the movies and on TV now. He devastates me in ways I still have not been able to put true words or feelings to, I only know that I want to be near all this beauty I see within him for as long as he’ll have me.

Another kiss to my jaw, to the corner of my lips, before he grabs my chin and turns my head bringing us mouth to mouth.

There’s a giggle we share when he pulls away, the sound drawing him back in for more. “Can’t believe you paid thirty dollars to make out with me in a garden.”

And that’s it, really. That’s all there has been. It’s technically been three weeks but only this last one accompanied by his mouth on mine. The people pleaser that I am probably would’ve jumped in bed with him on the first date if that’s what he had wanted but it wasn’t.

“Can't believe you were going to pay thirty bucks to make out with me in a garden,” he responds. “Aren’t you glad I saved you the trouble?”

February 3, 2003:

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“Mom!” 

She shrugs, eyes rolling up to the ceiling with her coffee cup in hand. 

I picked her up from the airport last night but before I could even tell her about Joel, she smelled his cologne mixed in with mine.

“It's complicated,” I tell her. I said as much in the car last night; though, it’s really not.

She called bullshit and she does so again. “Sonny, sweetheart, you have never been with a man you didn’t tell me about immediately.”

“This is different,” I insist. Different and not a conversation for pancakes in public. “I was going to tell you about him this morning, it’s not my fault you sniffed it out before I could.” 

“Do you love him?” She asks. “That's the only way I can imagine it’s different.” Air quotes around that last word. 

I feel small. Like a teenager running up the phone bill again and missing curfew, her voice echoing the same words her parents said to her. “I don't know, mom, it’s early. You’re the one who’s always trying to set me up!”

“But I didn’t set you up.”

“No, mom,” I affirm. “But Drea might as well have. It’s fine, you’d like him.”

“I liked your father just fine too,” she says.

She’s leaned back in her chair now, arms crossed as she stares across at me. Her hair is a mix of grays painted through red, a natural ginger shade I tried so hard in adolescence to achieve. 

“And, yet, I don’t know who that man is,” I respond. “You’re the one always asking me about grandchildren and where my life is going, encouraging me to find somebody to build with because you’re worried about me dying alone married to my career.”

“It just seems fast for you to love somebody,” she says, leaning forward again. Elbows on the table, she reaches for my hands. “Sweetheart, I just want what’s best for you.” 

Tears burn in my eyes. “I know that, so trust me when I tell you that this is good,” I tell her. “Joel is good and I just want to keep it to myself for a bit, does that make sense? I don’t need to make a spectacle and tell everybody, mark my claim over him with public displays of affection and going down the list of my phonebook. I-I trust him.” 

“You love him.”

I ask her if we have to bring that into it right now; the idea that my attachments and feelings to him are more than what I’m willing to name for her at the moment. These might be little words but they’re big meanings. I shrug, “isn't trust enough?” 

Her head shakes, clear blue eyes filled up with worry. “No. Because you’re doing yourself a disservice by ignoring the other—you need to be prepared to protect yourself should his feelings not be the same.” 

 She begs me to be careful as the check is brought, as my card’s laid down. She tells me all the issues she had with my father, how amazing he was until my existence was known as if the existence of babies ever truly brings the best out of fifteen year olds. She says to not end up like her.

“I'm just saying, Sonny, be careful.” She tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “Life, and this world, loves to tear happiness apart. You probably see that more than anybody.” 

Recounting the day on the edge of sleep, he hums through soft laughter and lulls me closer to closed eyes.

“Your mom,” he says finally, the water in the background shutting off, “she sounds sweet.”

“She grilled me about you,” I yawn out. “At breakfast this morning.”

“You told her about me already?”

His accent’s thick with sleep, too, but still laced with surprise.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I tell him, eyes following my mother as she walks from my en suite back towards the living room pull out couch. “She smelled you on me.”

They both laugh.

“What? You had a smile two miles wide, sweetheart?”

“Maybe I did,” I tell him honestly. “But no, literally as well.”

He laughs again. “I was all over you at the gardens." Voice impossibly low. “And again in the truck.”

All over in such innocent ways; shoulder bumps with his hand in mine, large hands cradling my head to his chest. Forehead and eyelid and nose tip kisses. 

“And again in your bed.” Lower still, the way it was in the late afternoon as we laid together here trading soft whispers back and forth. “You like a lot of pillows, I’ll have to remember that.” 

We didn’t sleep together—haven’t slept together.

“Hmm, I think it was strong enough on me,” I tell him, casting a glance into the living room where my mother is laughing with the laugh track on the television.

He came in to help put the picnic supplies away, more kisses pressed into my shoulders and my cheeks as he walked around the small kitchen and washed up at the small sink. As he bent to put his shoes back on, I ran my fingers through his curls, thanking him again for the day. Joel looked up with big, watery brown eyes and kicked his shoes back off before pushing me back against the wall.

“I'll tell you what was strong, sweetheart.” He laughs again, the soft sound warming me over. “What was strong was my self control. Yours too, baby.”

I told him I didn’t have condoms, they’d expired so I’d tossed them. He said he didn’t bring one because he didn’t want to be presumptuous. 

That didn’t stop him from pressing his knee up between my thighs; didn’t keep his hand out from beneath my skirt, hard worked palms skating up my sides and back down to the waistband of my panties.

“You weren’t even wearing a bra,” he breathes out.

“Nope.”

“But I was still so respectful.”

“You were,” I affirm.

He was. Gave nothing but a surprised sound and a light squeeze to my ribs.

“I should let you sleep,” he says. “How long’s your mom in town for again?”

“Until Thursday.”

“Well, when I don’t get lunch from you tomorrow, I’ll understand why.”

February 7, 2013:

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joel breathes into the phone as soon as I pick up. “You got a second?”

I haven’t seen him in days. Between my mom visiting and him working a job in San Marcos, no times lined up for even the most fleeting of moments together. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” I’m in the break room, hard chair beneath me as I spear into a salad. “Are you breaking up with me?”

He laughs. “That'd be fucking stupid to do,” he says. “No, no. I just wanted to hear your voice. I kinda feel stupid for how badly I wanted to hear it.”

“God, you have no idea how much I've wanted to hear yours.”

“Yeah?” He sounds closer to the phone now, like he was holding it away before, waiting for rejection. “I got used to seeing you every day there for a minute and now I miss you.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I’ve given up on the salad, it’s nothing but soggy lettuce and croutons now. The chicken wasn’t even good but I bought it pre-packaged out of the cafeteria so, you know, beggars can’t be choosers. “I was so focused on getting my mom to the airport this morning and getting to work on time, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, I ended up forgetting my lunch.”

“Damn, it would’ve been my time to shine.” 

“Really disappointing me here, Joel. How dare you?”

“Watch yourself,” he says, laughing low and dangerous. “I meant what I said to you last night.”

I glance down at my watch to check the time, five minutes left for lunch and an hour left in work. “Maybe you should give me a reminder.” Maybe I should save the rest of this conversation for when I get home.

“Mm.” He huffs a laugh. “If I could, I would show you. Keep having to school my thoughts, can’t stop thinking of the mess you made of me last weekend.”

“If only there were a way you could send me a picture,” I tell him. 

He hums. “Or you could send me one.”

“It's probably a good thing I can’t, given how last week went,” I laugh out. “I imagine I’d be a terror with that power.”

Joel laughs alongside me, says he thinks it’d be real dangerous for both of us if we had that power. He ends with telling me we’ll make plans soon, dinner or lunch or a five minute kiss in the parking lot.

“I expect you to behave yourself until then,” he asserts. “No grabbing yourself one of them polaroid cameras and dropping pictures off at my work.”

“Oh, Mr. Miller… that might be exactly what I do.” 

February 12, 2013:

Wolf whistles follow me into the new build followed by calls to watch my step as I go.

“Bring anything for me, Alison?”

Tommy meets me in the doorway, arm up to lean against the frame and block my way in with a shit eating grin. 

“You know, actually”—I reach into my bag—“I did.”

He holds his hand to his chest when I pull mine back out with my middle finger up, head thrown back acting as though he’s been shot. “You have the humor of a teenage boy and I am so jealous of my brother.”

“Maybe you’d be in his position if you hadn’t questioned my credentials that day,” you tell him. “Watch your mouth next time.”

“Oh come on, Ali, I meant it in the way that I’d never seen a doctor so hot unless they were on television.”

“Oh my god, Tommy.” I push past him into the house, the smell of sawdust and insulation and sweat thick in the air. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him. “My brother’s gonna kill me if you don’t put on a hat,” he says, taking his own off and putting it on my head. “The neon yellow really goes with the pink dress.”

I reach into my bag again and hand him one of the cling wrapped sandwiches I brought. “Where’s he at?” 

“You don’t hear him cussing up a storm in the kitchen?”

I shake my head. “The only thing I hear is your grating voice.” 

He holds the sandwich to his heart, dimples pulling a smile wide across his face. “If he doesn’t marry you, I’m killing him.” 

Through to the kitchen, Joel’s working on a cabinetry install.

“Hey, Miller.”

He practically melts as he turns, shoulders dropping all tension as he looks me up and down. “Hi. What are you doing here?” 

Not only did our schedules not line up last week, they didn’t line up over the weekend either. I had baby showers and wedding showers to attend and an extra shift I picked up at the hospital between those. He had already promised Sarah a trip to the zoo because the weather had been nice for it and a trip to the same gardens we visited the weekend before. Yesterday, I caught up on sleep and cleaning and television shows and he was here. 

“I brought you lunch,” I tell him. “And there is coffee in my car.”

He follows me out, passing the hat from my head and back to Tommy as we pass barely built threshold. Nobody tells me to watch my step this time, or whistles like a horny cartoon, not with Joel’s hand on my back guiding me across the pathway and down the road.

A small praise leaves his lips when he sees that I’ve parked in the cove, away from the prying eyes of his coworkers. 

Joel drops his hard hat in the grass, tipped up and off his head as I turn to him in the open door of the passenger side, and pins me to the edge of the seat with his hips on mine.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” he whispers.

“It's been ten days, Joel.”

One thumb swipes across the swell of my cheek while the other presses into the pout of my bottom lip. “It's been two weeks.”

“You're so good at math, how do you not end up in my emergency department more—“ 

Fingers sliding back into my hair, he cuts me off with his lips against mine, opening my mouth beneath his own. Sweat drips off his nose and down my cheek, clings to his facial hair and his clothing and I know that I’m covered in it. Covered in him like that night the last time I saw him. But he didn’t kiss me like this. This is hungry and half feral.

Joel pulls away and comes back, a kiss to the corner of my lips; my cheek; my temple. He gathers me up and pulls me close to his chest, chin resting on the crown of my head. “It’s been two weeks,” he says again.

My only answer is a nod of my head against the sweat stained, cotton fabric of his shirt. All I can do, all I want to do, is sit here like this with him for as long as I can but I know I can’t. Not with the sound of hammers and nail guns and table saws in the background. 

God, I feel safe with him.

He steps back and looks me up and down again. ”Where have you been hiding this dress?” 

“In the back of my closet behind all the scrubs.”

“You look gorgeous,” he says. “I'm really glad I rubbed my sweaty man smell all over you. If you go anywhere after this, nobody is going to speak to you.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I really have to beat the boys back at the library.” 

Laughter, light and infectious. He takes my hand in his and raises it to his lips, brushing them against the back of my knuckles. “I need to ask you something.” 

“Oh boy.”

“Sit,” he nods his head behind me.

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. You sit, you know you won’t be able to until you drive home otherwise.”

“With my knees?” His face twists in preemptive discomfort. “Baby, if I sit, I’m not getting up.” 

Conceding, I nod. “Okay. Ask me something, then.”

He takes a deep breath, runs his hand across his forehead and then down his face, and breathes back out. “Sarah has this Valentine’s dance thing at her school on Friday,” he starts. “After that, she’s going over to a friend’s house for a slumber party and I was wondering if”—he pushes out another breath and scratches at his beard again—“I was wondering i-if you’d come over and let me make you dinner.”

“Oh my god, yes,” I tell him. “Why do you sound so nervous? I literally showed up to your job with food, I’m not even your girlfriend.”

“Are you not?” He asks. “Because there are no other women I’m making out with in gardens or bringing exorbitant amounts of coffee to while she slogs through her twelve hour shifts. How’s my friend Gary by the way?”

“Greg,” I correct him. “He couldn’t get his shit together over a patient with a severed arm from a car wreck so he transferred to pediatrics.”

“Fitting.”

“He'll be begging to come back when he realizes a severed arm isn’t nearly as bad as seeing babies in pain.” 

Joel licks his lips and leans in for another kiss and then another and then one more. Small pecks against my lips as he gently cradles the crown of my head, holding to me to him like he’s afraid of letting me go.

“I was nervous,” he whispers. “Because I was also wondering if you’d like to have a slumber party of your own with me?” 

Dear God. “Yeah.” I try to school the enthusiasm in my nod as I pull back, his hands falling to my shoulders, but judging by the way his face lights up, I’m not doing a good job.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” I affirm. “I’d really like that.”

Eyes closed, he smirks. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

“Did you think I’d say no?” I ask him.

Lips pursed, he nods. “I thought this might finally be the time you tell me to fuck off, yeah.”

February 14, 2003:

Slow is a bad word in the hospital.

Hell, it might be a bad word everywhere.

But it is quiet and I will take that over the bullshit most holidays bring. Not that we won’t see the lovers and how their nights have gone—scorned and bloodied or the romantic, candlelit sex gone wrong. But that’ll hopefully come well after seven when I’ve walked out for the day.

“Murphy,” a familiar voice comes up behind me. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Two hours ago,” I tell her, not looking up from my notes. “Another sandwich.”

“Preparation for a long dinner with that broken nosed hunk from last month?” 

“Not tonight, Andrea,” I tell her.

“No Valentine’s date?” She asks, sitting beside me. “Trouble in the honeymoon phase?”

Laughing, I look over at her and shake my head. “No, no trouble. Far from it, he just has plans tonight.” 

“I want to pry but I’m trying not to.”

I laugh again. “He doesn’t have another girlfriend,” I assure her. "He has a tradition with his daughter. They get all dressed up and he takes her out for a fancy dinner which, to a kid, means Olive Garden. Then they go to the movies. Tonight they’re seeing Daredevil.” 

“That seems fitting for him,” Andrea says. “You didn’t tell me he had a daughter. She must be older if she’s seeing that with him.”

“Um… yeah. She just turned fourteen,” I tell her. “Her birthday’s later in the year, I think. Around the same time as his, maybe, I can’t remember if he said.” 

She’s looking at me, eyes narrowed to read my face. “And you’re okay with that?” 

I shrug. “Can't imagine not being okay with a kid.”

Drea continues looking at me, that worried mom look my own mother wore last week.

“I like him and she’s apart of him,” I say. “Everything he tells me about her tells me she’s sweet.” 

“Dating a man with a child is a big responsibility, Alison.”

“I know. You’ve met my mother, Drea, I was also the child of a dating parent. But I love who she ended up with and she took my opinion seriously, I would want him to take hers seriously too,” I insist. “Besides, he doesn’t want us to meet yet. it’s still early and he doesn’t want to drag people in and out of her life.” I shrug again, hopeful to convey that she doesn’t need to worry about me. “I think we’re being smart about this.” 

“Your mama was right,” she says.

“Hmm?”

Mom had visited the hospital on Wednesday, brought lunch for both me and Drea and the two women sat in the break room catching up like old friends. By this point, that’s exactly what they are.

“You're in deep already,” she says. “Judging by the way that man looks at you, he is too.”

“I don’t think he is, Drea,” I say. “But I appreciate you thinking he is.”

“He is,” she reiterates. “Just be careful with your heart, involving kids is a different kind of heartbreak and not just for you.” 

The day goes by, the calm putting me on autopilot until after my shower.

Hell, the cruise control lasted me through dinner and a couple episodes of some SVU repeats. It kept my mind off of Joel, what Drea said. I was just like Sarah, watching my mom get her heartbroken which broke mine in turn. I believe we are being smart about this, the fast but slow burn of it all.

I can’t stop thinking about how she said he was in too deep, too. She said it was the way he looked at me. Said she told my mom as much. Maybe I’m blind because I’m in it, I don’t know.

Maybe I just find it hard to believe because my body wasn’t the first thing offered up—wasn’t the first thing asked for. Intentions never felt motivated by more than just wanting to get to know each other.

I should be asleep. Instead, I’ve been reading and rereading the same pages over and over again, trying to commit them to memory through some sort of comprehension. All I can think about is what to wear tomorrow, what to pack. Briefly, I wonder how childish it would be to bring my pillow. 

Vibrations cause the phone to start dancing across the bedside table seconds before the screen lights up, Joel’s name popping up beneath the low lamplight.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty girl,” he breathes into the line. “Did I wake you?” 

“No,” I yawn out. “Can't sleep.”

He laughs, a breathy little sound somewhere between relief and guilt. “In that case, I’d really like it if you came and buzzed me into your building.”

“Buzz—Joel, are you here?”

“Mm, yeah.” His voice is low, happy and warm. “I know it’s late, I’m sorry. Was gonna go on home if you didn’t answer but you did so—“

“Press my apartment ringer,” I tell him.

I hit the buzzer through as soon as he does, barely catching a glimpse of what he looks like in the small camera that connects my intercom to the entry vestibule. 

Five minutes pass. I lost his call as soon as he stepped inside the elevator. My head hurts, I’m starting to think it’s an elaborate prank of a sleep deprived mind and then there’s the smallest knock at the door.

It’s barely cracked before he’s pushing against it, allowing just enough space to slide his body through and against mine as he closes it behind him. Large hand flat across the small of my back, his arm squeezes around my body as he opens my mouth beneath his to grant his own tongue access.

Something’s dropped onto the small table next to us, the catchall container of coins and keys and business cards full beside it, and he grabs my hip with his now free hand—squeezing and groaning into me.

Pressing against his chest, I push the smallest bit of space between us. “Wait… Joel—“

“Yeah?” 

He pushes my hair back now, tucking an errant curl behind my ear before rubbing across the spit slick pout of my bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Where's Sarah?”

“She's asleep in the truck with Tommy,” he tells me, lips pressing into mine again. “He went to the movies with us, said he’d watch her while I came up here real quick.”

“You wanted to see me that bad?” I ask him, sweeping the tip of my thumb below one tired eye. “Just couldn’t wait for tomorrow then?”

“No, I really couldn’t.” He presses another kiss into my lips and then another. “I gotta go though,” he continues, doorknob already twisting in his hand. “If I stay any longer, I’ll end up not leaving. Do you understand?”

It’s the tone of his voice when he asks me if I understand, low and stern; tossing diesel onto the half built fire in my belly. All I can do is nod and he kisses me again—hard—before pulling away and walking back out the door.

Gently clicking back into place, I hold there at the door, hands and legs both a little shaky in the same way he’d left me that afternoon and the other day outside his work. There’s the surprise of it all, too, in the lit up nerves just beneath my skin, and no steadying breath is pushing my newfound wakefulness away. 

Locking the door, finally, I turn back towards the bedroom and my eye catches on what he left beside my keys.

Several small, orange roses sit on the entryway table wrapped in clear cellophane. 

February 15, 2003:

Oh God. Oh God.

His neighborhood is cute; quiet and tucked away just shy of the city in the south of Austin. 

The sun’s already far gone but the house is bright, lights on in the windows of the downstairs and I can see him moving around the living room through the sheer curtain he’s not yet closed for the evening.

Car’s parked on the street, hugging the curb that serves as barrier between his yard and the rest of the world. He told me he didn’t have a dog, that Sarah had been wanting one, and, really, that’s a shame. I know he’s busy, Sarah’s got soccer and school, but this yard was meant for dogs.

Drawing closer, I catch the swing on the porch as well as the small table with two chairs, and realize that the curtains aren’t just open—the window is too. Music filters out and into the open air, the sound of Stevie Nicks barely audible above the hum of a vacuum and his own singing. I almost—almost—don’t want to interrupt him. Just sit here and listen to him go about life like this.

He told me where the spare key is, told me to go ahead and let myself in when I arrived, but something felt strange about that; a strange, young woman with a duffel bag letting herself into a random house on the street. No, that wouldn’t go over poorly at all. Then again, there’s also the optics of Joel Miller standing at the door welcoming a strange, young woman with a duffel bag to his home. Whether it’s a shot gun for suspected trespassing or gossip about the single dad and his lady caller, I can practically feel the the neighbors’ eyes all on me.

Eyeing the Lone Star decoration—where the key lives—nailed to the wall beside the door, I weigh my options, take a deep breath and press the doorbell in.

Nothing happens.

No sound above the vacuuming or the singing or the music.

I try again.

Nothing. Again.

Making a fist, I bring it up to knock. The vacuum cuts on the third hit followed by the door opening and Joel standing in the frame, silhouetted by the light behind him and lit up by the one outside. 

The sleeves of his worn, plaid button up shirt are pushed up to his elbows with one button undone at the neck, exposing both his thick forearms and the defined column of his throat. His short hair is a mess, no doubt tugged between his fingers as he ran his hands through the curls again and again.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, large hands wrapping around my forearms and pulling me forward into the space. “You’re early”—he checks his watch—“I had you pinged for fifteen minutes from now.”

"One of the night nurses came in early and I hauled ass out of there,” I tell him.

The living room is huge, housing a large, worn, brown leather couch across from the television, with an armchair to the side and a dining table directly behind that.

Weight comes out of my hand, Joel’s fingers brushing against my palm to take my bag from me, and he kisses my temple. 

“Should we go for the tour?”

“Actually…” I turn to him. “I was wondering if it would be okay if I took a shower? I’ve been in and around and beside germs all day.”

Joel nods, a half dazed look and a crooked smile overtaking his face.

“We'll tour the upstairs first.”

He points to my left and takes my hand, leading up the stairs. There are pictures all over the walls of him and Sarah going through life. When she was a baby; fishing; soccer matches; concerts. 

“Be nice to me,” he says as we reach the top of the stairs. “I actually cleaned my room today but it’s still not that good looking so…” He trails off, twisting the handle to the first door at the top of the stairs and pushing it wide as if in presentation.

It’s a large room, bed against one wall with a dresser and television directly across flanked by two more doors. There’s another dresser in the corner and I try to hide my smile when I spot the elliptical but he must be two steps ahead of me.

“It's good for my hamstrings,” he whispers, mustache hairs brushing the shell of my ear.

He points me to the attached bathroom, staying to talk to me through the door as I figure out how to turn it on, and leaves when the water’s finally running.

Near eight, I meet him back downstairs, following the sounds of him humming again. 

“What are you cooking us?” 

He looks over briefly and then again shortly after turning back to the food, eyes moving up and down and up again. “Hi.”

Again, a half dazed look and a crooked smile. 

“You gonna pick your jaw up off the ground? You saw me in shorts last night.” 

Reaching out, Joel grabs the hem of the sleeve of my sweater and pulls me forward with the slightest tug until I’m close enough to kiss. “I wasn’t looking at your shorts last night,” he says. “Now, with the way you house a burger,” he says, “I figured you like steak… just don’t know how you like it cooked.” 

“Medium rare.”

He blows a breath out hard. “You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart.” 

I don’t say anything about another button being undone, the faded black neckline of his t-shirt now visible, or the hollow of his throat framed by the worn fabric like a piece of art.

If he notices me staring, he doesn’t say anything; just works his thumb into the palm of my hand, pressing up and into the heel of it before bringing it to his lips. “Let me cook, baby, you go look around.” 

“I thought I was getting a whole tour, Joel.”

“Well…” He pulls me into him, hands squeezing into the meat of my hips and he turns me in his arms. “You're in the kitchen,” he tells me, “that's the living room”—he points over the counter and back to the couch—“and that back there”—he points to glass French doors—“is my office.” He kisses my temple. “Go explore, you know where to find me.” 

I choose the office, the sound of his humming once again backtracking his movements and now mine. 

The room isn’t small. Not like you’d expect an office to be. On one wall, sits a desk with a computer, a cork board above it adorned with notes and reminders, with a bookshelf beside it. A full bookshelf, the planks bowing beneath the weight of his collection. I pluck out one I’ve been waiting for at the library before looking through the rest. 

Out the sliding glass doors is a large backyard housing a shed and an orange El Camino.

“I’m fixing it up,” Joel says. He’s watching me from the doorway, hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. “It was my dad’s.”

There’s sadness in his voice but I’m unsure if I should poke at it.

“He died when I was twenty,” he continues, like he can read my mind. “Both my parents, actually.”

“I'm so sorry.”

Joel shakes his head, raising a hand to wave me away. “Don’t be, baby,” he says. “I went off the deep end for a bit but I’ve made peace with it and”—he shrugs—“I got Sarah out of all that grief so I honestly wouldn’t change it.” 

I nod as if I understand.

I don’t, though. I don’t know a loss of that magnitude but, sometimes, I think of a world without my mother in it and it starts breaking me down bit by bit. Andrea says it’s our brains finally understanding the mortality of it all, preparing us for a world without our parents so it doesn’t hit us near as hard when it happens.

I can’t imagine how hard it hit him, to learn the mortality of it all at such a young age.

Book still in my hands, I follow him back into the kitchen as the oven timer goes off. 

He pulls out Brussels sprouts and baby potatoes and asks if I prefer red wine or whiskey.

“Wine,” I tell him, placing the book down on the white tile counter. “Can I set the table? Help at all?” 

He shakes his head, lips pursed as he turns to me. “You’re helping by being here, baby. Usually, Sarah goes out and I just take a damn bath and go to bed.”

“You didn’t really strike me as a bath kinda guy.”

Joel shrugs. “You come to appreciate the finer things in life when you hit your thirties. A quiet bath and a book?” He blows a breath out, big smile across his face as he begins plating the food. “One day, I’d like to get a bigger house just so I can have a damn hot tub in my bathroom—what? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” I tell him. “That’s a good idea.”

Truth is, I’m trying not to picture him naked and tucked down into the water as steam rises all around him. Trying not to imagine me in there with him, sharing a book and a drink. 

We finish close to nine, the dinner punctuated with a light head and my hands in soapy water. Joel’s protesting my help, keeps saying I’m a guest in his home like he wasn’t doing chores in mine two weeks ago. 

“Didn't think you could get cuter,” he whispers into my ear as he presses himself against me. “But here you are in your little shorts, moving around my house and looking right at home.” 

“Yeah?” His chest is so broad against my back, warm and all encompassing. “You like the picture of me doing dishes, huh? Want me to be your little maid?” 

“You're an ass,” he whispers, lips lowering down to the crook of my neck.

His hands are back at my hips, lightly moving beneath my sweater and up my sides.

“I loved my flowers, by the way.”

His smile stretches across my neck and he hums against my pulse point. “Good, sweetheart.” 

One more kiss, half bitten in, and he steps back, hands dropping from beneath my shirt and back to his sides.

“I don’t know if you maybe wanna watch a movie,” he says, voice moving back across the room. “Or go on to sleep? I know you’ve had a long day, baby.”

“You've been calling me that a lot lately.” When I turn to him, he’s pressing exhaustion from his own eyes, another button undone on his shirt that starts revealing a graphic on the t-shirt beneath.

“Do you hate it?” He asks.

“I never said that, sweetheart.” 

Dimple pulling the corner of his lips up, he laughs. “You sure do think you’re funny, Alison. Why don’t you pick out a movie,” he suggests. “I'll make us some coffee.” 

Despite being made fun of, it takes me five seconds looking through the options to put on Jurassic Park and tuck myself neatly into the couch to watch Joel work across the room. 

He keeps adjusting his sleeves, staring down at the coffee maker as if willing it to brew faster. 

I’ve never looked at him like this—seen him like this. In his element, mindlessly stretching and scratching at the exposed lower belly as he yawns through the exhaustion of his body and mind. 

“Sarah's been drinking coffee lately,” he turns towards me. “It’s mostly creamer, because I’m trying to curb addiction, but we have it if you want it”—he holds the bottle up, gives it a shake as if in presentation—“it’s hazelnut.”  

He walks over soon after, cup in one hand with the creamer in the other. “This beige enough for you?”

It is and I know I won’t even drink much of it but it’s something comforting for the nerves I have just beneath this surface level calm.

Years have gone by since I’ve slept next to somebody; crawled in bed beside their warm body and fell easily into sleep. I don’t even know why I’m nervous, I feel safe enough with him that I know it’ll be easier than all the times before. 

“You better be glad I like you a whole lot,” he says, sitting beside me. “Corner of the couch is usually mine.” 

“I need an armrest.”

“Damn, baby,” he breathes out while he places one warm hand on my knee and leans. “So do I.” 

There’s that shared comfort again, that familiarity in a close space with one another.

Not long through the movie, I start to stretch my legs out before thinking better of it and tucking them back under myself.

“No,” he says, shaking his head and taking my coffee from me. “Turn towards me and lay back.”

I watch as he puts our cups on the table and leans back again, gripping into my knee and pulling it towards him. “Baby, turn towards me and lay back, you can stretch out that way.”

Once I’m settled with my feet in his lap, he asks me if I’m cold.

Releasing the breath I was holding, I shake my head. Cold’s not something I can be with heat radiating through my body from the epicenter of where his hand lays on my leg. “I like this view a whole lot more than that one,” I say, pointing over at the television.

Red and angry as it is, the stitches are almost fully dissolved in the cut across his nose finally revealing the smooth, subtle curve of it. He shaved as well, not by much—just a trim to clean it all up—but it exposes more of that strong jawline I’ve only felt beneath my hands. Must’ve been too distracted by the humming and the forearms to notice.

He laughs, large hand curving around my knee again. “Watch your dinosaurs, pretty girl, not me.” 

The weight of his hand is almost different now, like he’s putting more behind the small grip he has on me and I’m hyperaware of it—aware of every minuscule centimeter it moves up my leg.

All I keep thinking about is the timbre of his voice last night asking me if I understood him. That if he stayed any longer, he’d stay all night. I barely slept, moved through the day like a caffeine addicted zombie. 

Now I’m the one staying the night and his half shot nerves seem to be taking over all that confidence he used to push past my door and into my mouth.

Every time I look at him, he looks back at the television, the smallest of smirks on his face, but his hand moves higher still. His grip tightens on my inner thigh when I stretch, raised arms and arched back pushing my chest out.

Laughter. I catch him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye while his thumb runs across his lower lip. “Fuck.” 

Halfway turned to him again, he pushes himself up and my legs apart—laying himself between them and on top of me.

“This is what we both really want to be doing, isn’t it?”

The nod of my head is stopped by his grip around my chin, mouth opening easily beneath his as he presses the flat of his tongue down against mine. 

Sound tunes out to nothing, all I can hear is Joel’s heavy breaths mixed in with mine as his hips push down. 

“I asked you if you wanted to go on up to bed,” he whispers into my neck as he maneuvers my head to the side for access. “We could’ve been doing this.”

“Actu—oh—actually, you asked me if I wanted to go on up to sleep,” I tell him. “That's a much different question, Joel, and I wanted to—“

His hips bear down against my center and I know how uncomfortable he must be, how tight those dark blue jeans must feel right now.

“You wanted to what, baby?” There’s a half mocking tone in his voice, like he already knows how wet I am and he’s just trying to get me to admit it. “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me with him when he pushes himself up, and kisses across my knuckles before adjusting himself in his pants.

“After you,” he says, voice scratchy and strained, as he points to the stairs.

Right on my heels all the way up, he stops me as I reach his door, spinning me in his arms and pushing me against the hard wood as he pins me with his hips.

His hands are in my shirt again, my own fingers working at the buttons of his, and he makes a strangled sound right into the cup of my mouth as his rough palm skates up my ribs.

“You're not wearing a bra?” It comes out like a plea, like he’s begging me to prove him wrong.

I can’t. I won’t. “I'm not,” I confirm, placing my hand on his beneath the fabric. “I haven’t been.”

Joel steps back, both hands running through his hair before he drags them down his face. 

Swollen lips and crimson peaked cheeks, I adore him. This man who surprises me for a kiss in the middle of the night. This man who brings me coffee and orange flowers. This man who kisses like he made a deal with the Devil but still looks wrecked over a suggestive lack of clothing.

Opening the door with one hand, he lays the other flat across my back and pushes me forward into the open space, barely illuminated by one bedside lamp, and pushes me onto the edge of the bed.

“Do you wanna take that shirt off, sweetheart?” He asks, pulling his button up from his shoulders. “Or do you want me to do it?” 

Low and dangerous, an ultimatum but the result is the same either way. 

I hesitate too long and he clicks his tongue at me as he pulls the t-shirt over his head now. “Answer me.” 

Beautiful, built, broad shoulders hold him up, paler than the parts of him exposed to the sun. Edges of gold bleed into the pale skin of his chest, adorned with a light dusting of dark hair. 

“Baby,” he catches my attention again as he leans over me at the edge of the bed, “I’m taking this now, is that okay?” 

Nodding, I meet his hands at the hem of my sweater, helping as he coaxes it over my head. He takes in a sharp breath and I’m trying to imagine how he’s seeing me, trying to bolster my confidence with it. I haven’t sat half naked in front of somebody else in so long. I know he knows who I am and how I look, I know he’s touched me—my stomach, my hips, the thick of my thighs—but being bare to him in the light, no matter how low, is shaking me down.

“You tell me any time you want to stop,” he tells me, tucking a curl behind my ear. “I don’t care how far we’ve already gone, you say stop and that’s it, sweetheart. Do you understand?” 

Hands framing my face as I agree, he leans down to press his lips to mine again, up to the top of my cheek and back down again accompanied by whisker induced laughter. 

“You should take these off too,” I tell him, hooking one finger into one of his belt loops.

Joel huffs a laugh. “Take them off of me then.” 

He says it like a challenge against the shell of my ear before sucking the lobe between his teeth, letting go only to bite down onto the pulse point of my throat instead. 

Fingers trembling, I work at the button of his jeans until I manage to pull it through the hole. Joel reacts to the progress with the smallest sound of contentment as he meets my lips. Still, I can taste the frustration—the eagerness, the anticipation—building up within the both of us. Both of us wanting it over with and wanting to make it last. Another groan of relief, this time louder and longer, hums off of his tongue and onto mine as I pull the zipper down. 

Before I can pull the jeans down around his hips, he puts me flat on my back and crawls over me with both hands bracing his full weight above me. 

“You're gorgeous,” I tell him, head filled up with him.

He shakes his head. “That's you.” 

Palming over his underwear, I open my legs and mouth wider beneath him.

Wet with just a thought of him, I’m desperate to have him and he knows it—meets it with the same ferocity.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Joel pushes himself back to his feet and pushes his jeans down, adjusting himself, again, through the fabric of his briefs. He stares down momentarily, like he’s strategizing how best to approach me before leaning in again and hooking his fingers into the waistband of my shorts.

Just my shorts.

Feeling the brush of his knuckles only against my hips, knowing that he’s leaving this barrier between us makes me want him more. Because it feels so juvenile and so adult at the same time, both curious about these new feelings and taking it slow so actions can be weighed and walked with intention. 

He molds my body to his, weight sinking into me as his fingers dig into my flesh and pulls until all space between us has gone—fused together with lust and the lightest sheen of sweat.

“You have a condom this time, right?”

Laughter, bright and happy and vibrating against my body. “Yeah, baby, I didn’t think I was being presumptuous this time.” Bearing his weight against my hips, he takes in the small gasp I feed him and smiles wider. “Was I?”

He wasn’t.

He couldn’t be—not when it comes to this.

Scraping his teeth down the expanse of my neck, all composure leaves me as he wraps his lips around my sensitive nipple. Clouds fill my head—cottony, fuzzy. If I was warm beneath him before, the rush he sends through me puts that to shame. 

Breathless and panting, he looks up and says, “I won’t last inside of you, sweetheart.” 

Worry’s laced in his eyes, dark and bold and fixed on mine like a puppy begging forgiveness. Only, the forgiveness he’s asking for isn’t needed.

“That's okay,” I tell him.

“It's just that it’s…” He trails off, eyes drifting down to our connected, but not yet bare, hips. “It’s been a while since I did this with somebody else.”

“Somebody else?” I ask him.

“Well yeah,” he confirms, eyebrows pinched up and a look like it’s obvious. “I’m a solo act, baby.” 

“And what are you now?”

“I’m—" 

The phone rings, cleaving right through the silence to cut his words short.

“Fuck,” he says, grabbing the phone as he pushes himself off of me and to the side. “Hello? H-hey Susan, everything alright?”

His voice is raw and he pinches the bridge of his nose, a small expletive falling from his lips as I push myself up to sit beside him.

“No, it’s fine, Susan,” he says into the phone. “You didn’t wake me up and, even if you had, I’d prefer that over any possible alternative.” He waits, a small laugh at whatever the woman on the other end of the line says. “Yeah, I appreciate it. I’ll be about fifteen to twenty minutes.” 

“Is everything okay?” I ask as he hangs up, an apology halfway out of his mouth.

“No.” He places the phone back on the stand and stands up. “Sarah’s sick as hell, all the kids are. Slumber party’s turning into a goddamn vomit pool.” He turns to me then, adjusting and readjusting himself through the fabric of his briefs. “Sorry,” he says again.

“Hey, I work in a goddamn vomit pool,” I remind him, pushing myself up to stand as well. “You don’t have to apologize, shit happens.”

Those nerves I felt laying bare in front of him earlier didn’t come up to stand with me, leaving me again with that silent comfort he makes me feel. 

“I know, baby, but”—he pulls his pants on—“we were gonna have the best sex.”

Looking around for where he threw my shorts, I tell him, “so imagine how much better it’s going to be when we can finally—“

“Hey.” His touch is gentle on my elbow as he calls my attention back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I figured I’d go ahead and head home,” I tell him honestly, having spotted my shorts—and shirt—halfway across the room.

He shakes his head, worry worn eyes darting around my face. “Obviously, I don’t make your decisions, sweetheart, but I really don’t like the idea of you driving on these roads so late and”—he shrugs on his button up—“at the risk of sounding like a selfish asshole, I was really looking forward to sharing my bed with you tonight and I don’t care what capacity that looks like.” 

“But… Sarah.”

“We can sneak you out tomorrow,” he insists. “Please tell me you’ll stay.” 

“Well”—I nod—"if you have your heart set on it.” I don’t tell him mine is, too.

Huffing a laugh, he steps into my space and leans down to press his lips to mine. “Thank you.” 

It’s edging towards midnight when the door creaks open again.

“Hey.” I close the book I picked up while downstairs. “How does she feel?”

Joel starts unbuttoning his shirt, eyes focused on mine. “Did you do all that for my baby?” He asks, shrugging the fabric off of his broad shoulders. “The empty trash can? The gatorade and crackers?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about, Joel. It must’ve been the elves.”

“Alison…” 

“There should’ve been some children’s acetaminophen and an anti-nausea tablet as well.”

He nods. “Yeah.” 

Hugging my legs to my chest, I place the book on the bedside table and watch him as he steps out of his jeans and walks towards me. We didn’t have sex but this seems more intimate—sitting up to wait for him, to check on him. 

Exhaustion is heavy on his lids and on his tongue as he tells me to scoot, lifting up the cover to lay himself beside me. “You mean so much to me,” he says, shaking his head. “If that’s laying all my cards out on the table then”—he bites his lip—“then so be it, sweetheart. It’s important to me that you know.” 

The way he looks at me takes me down—consumed and restrained all at once. It’s how I know him, how he’s been this whole time. Honest and vulnerable while holding just enough back because he’s waiting for me to choke him with it.

“Hey,” his raw voice pulls me from my reverie, “did I finally do it?”

His short curls spill between my fingers as I push his hair back and ask, “do what, baby?”

A grin splits his face and he rolls to his side to lay scratchy kisses across my outer thigh. “Was gonna ask if I finally scared you off,” he murmurs against the skin as he kisses up to my knee. “But I guess I got my answer.”

February 16, 2003:

Bed’s empty when I wake up, but still warm in Joel’s space.

It’s somewhere near six in the morning, it has to be judging on the light coming in through the windows, and it’s cold—I’m cold. 

The toilet flushes as I bury my head into his pillow, taking in the subtle sweet and spicy smell of his soap, his cologne, his work. Him.

I barely hear the bathroom door click shut but I hear the bedroom door creak open and open my eyes just in time to see him slipping out. 

But no matter how soothing and warm his spot feels, or how late I stayed up, my body is stuck thinking I’m already late for the day as I’ve slept well past my normal alarm clock and I can’t fall back into sleep.

When I come out of the bathroom, Joel’s pushing back into the room, his finger held up to his lips as the door creaks shut behind him. He’s put on clothes. Rather, he’s put on a shirt and changed into boxers.

“I turned the heat on, baby,” he whispers.

Nodding, I rub my eye. “She awake?”

He shakes his head. “No, she’s knocked the fuck out but I had to clean out the trashcan, she got sick sometime in the night.”

“Did you spray disinfectant in it?” I ask him, crawling back into his space in the bed.

He’s not far behind me, broad body encouraging me forward before pulling my back flush with his chest. “Was I supposed to?”

“It’s recommended but the scent might have woken her up so probably best that you didn’t,” I say.

“Hm. Okay.” 

Tightening his grip around me, Joel buries his nose into my back and takes a deep breath. “I could get used to seeing you in my shirts, baby,” he mumbles. “How'd you sleep?”

How did I sleep?

Usually I wake up several times in the night, if only for just a second, by the creaks and groans of my apartment and the building that holds it up. Or by the heavy footed steps of my upstairs neighbors. But I didn’t have that here. What I had, instead, was several hours of uninterrupted sleep until I no longer felt his warm body beside mine. 

“Really well.”

He hums approval into my back, pressing further forward to lay a kiss over the fabric and up until he reaches the exposed skin of my neck. “You called me baby last night,” he whispers.

Running the tips of my fingers along the back of his, I ask, “do you hate it?” And he laughs.

“I never said that, sweetheart.” He takes another deep breath, saying, “I could get a little too used to this, baby, so you better break my heart soon if you’re gonna do it at all,” on the exhale. 

He says it like a joke but I know it’s not one. Maybe it was when he said similar a month ago, but it isn’t now. Now he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, just like he said at the gardens, and hoping I’ll give him just enough warning to dodge the impact.

“I'm not going to,” I tell him, turning my head back to him. “I mean… life is messy, Joel, and I know shit happens.” He looks over me now, eyes searching mine, and I cannot get over how beautiful he is like this—kind, dark eyes and pillow mussed curls in the early morning light of day. “I can’t make any promises, Joel, but I need you to know that I don’t foresee the end of this, it’s not even on the periphery of my mind.”

“I'm not worrying you with how fast we’re moving?”

“That's the thing, Joel,” I tell him, “this doesn’t feel fast. I mean”—I rub the sleep from my eye—“it feels like it’s been just a few seconds, you know? But it also feels like it’s been a few years.” 

Joel nods and he pushes his weight down on me, hand sliding up my chest to grip around my chin while his nose slots against mine.

“I should go, though,” I murmur into his lips. “Before she wakes up.”

“Can you stay for one cup of coffee, pretty girl?” He asks. “Please?” 

His smile mirrors my own when I say, “yes,” kissing down before pushing himself back up and out the door.

Dropping my bag off by the front door, he pouts when he sees me.

“What?” I ask him.

“I was gonna bring you coffee in bed,” he tells me. “Wanted to still see you in my shirt.”

I take the cup from him, grateful I said yes to this as the lack of sleep is starting to hit me.

“It took everything in me to change back into mine but”—I run my free hand through my hair—“you and I both know it would’ve turned into a lot more than just a cup of coffee if you’d brought it to me up there.” 

“Have a little faith in me, sweetheart.” He taps his mug against mine and winks. “Did you get your book?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s yours.”

He shrugs. “Sweetheart, you could throw your coffee into my face and I would not care.”

“Yeah you would,” I call his bluff.

He shrugs. “Only because that beige bullshit I put in there would get me all sticky and I’ve already showered.” 

“You showered?” I ask and he nods while he tips the cup back again. “When did you shower?”

“Mm, bit before you woke up. It wasn’t a full one, just…” He trails off, his cheeks flushing red as he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh no,” I say. “I have to know now.” 

Joel rubs his forehead with his free hand and huffs a laugh. “Somebody was rubbing her sweet, little ass on me all night and I woke up in a very sticky situation.”

Laughter starts before the final words have even settled, his whole body shaking as my jaw drops. “Honestly,” he starts, trying to regain control of his giggles. “That’s kind of how you looked in the dream I was having about you too.”

Heat is rushing through my veins in different shades; embarrassment and horniness, shame because his wet dream makes me want him more, and powerful over having made a mess of him without trying.

He steps into my space, large hand smoothing down my hair as he moves to cradle my head, and leans into me. “I can’t wait to do this again, we’ll just”—he shrugs—“cut right to the chase next time.” 

“Oh, that’s all I am? Just a chase you gotta cut to?”

“Yeah,” he whispers into my lips. “Right. That’s so right, sweetheart.”

As I finish my coffee, he disappears back up the stairs, a kiss to my temple as he goes, and leaves me alone in the space of his kitchen. It’s weird how familiar it feels, like there’s half a shade of deja vu over my presence in his space. 

Everything looks real here, like a true place where people live. My apartment looks like a copy of a copy of a copy with two or more coats gray-beige paint on every wall—I’ve lived there for years at this point and I’m unsure if it’ll ever feel for me how this looks like it feels for him. There is so much love in these walls, I could melt.

“Daddy?” Sarah’s voice filters down from upstairs and I can hear his feet walking to meet hers.

“Hey sweetheart, what are you doing up?” There’s the click of a door behind him as he meets her in the hallway.

“I heard voices,” she says. “Are you talking to somebody?”

“Television must’ve been too loud, baby. I’ll turn it down when I go back downstairs. How do you feel?”

“Better,” she says. “But also horrible.”

Their voices continue to get further and further away but his laughter still finds my ears easily before I hear him say, “well, you stay up here or maybe get a shower but I think you should try to rest some more, okay?”

Her response is lost behind closed doors as Joel’s footsteps walk back towards the stairs and down.

“Hey,” I whisper, as he reaches the kitchen, “I'm gonna go ahead and go.”

“Did you finish your coffee?” He asks. 

“I finished enough of it.”

One eyebrow raises like he’s calling bullshit but he nods. “Okay. I put the book on your bag”—he takes my mug from me—“we’ll talk about it when you finish it.” 

February 18, 2003:

“Wait…” I type into the open chat. “She’s not dead?”

“No,” he texts back.

“But…”

“Just keep reading, we’ll talk about it tonight.” 

 “This is insane,” I tell him when I answer the phone.

It’s just after ten and I can hear the clicking in the background that I now know to be the lamp on his bedside table. He laughs followed by a groan, probably from sitting down, and then he laughs again. 

“Only person I know smart enough to pull off some similar shit is you, sweetheart,” he says. “God, I better not ever get on your bad side.”

“I don’t know what my bad side is,” I tell him honestly.

“It's whatever the fuck Tommy and that jackass at your work are on,” he responds. “And you wouldn’t fucking believe what Tommy did today.”

“Oh no, did he fuck your nose up again?”

Joel’s laughter is a little more intense. “No, your craftsmanship is well protected, sweetheart.”

“Then I really just can’t imagine what Tommy Miller could do that would shock me more than screwing up your face.” 

He pushes out a hard breath and groans again as his head hits the pillows. “This dumbass, baby, did a goddamn strip tease against an unfinished support beam and now has splinters—”

“No thanks,” I tell him, waving my hand to shut him up as if he’s right beside me. It hits me then, harder than it did last night or the night before that and all during the days since I said goodbye on Saturday. I want him to be here or me to be there; honestly, I just want to be anywhere where he is. It makes me feel an ache somewhere deep within me, higher than the pit of my stomach but lower than my heart. I want to share these words, however trivial they may be, in a shared space with shared breaths. “I don’t need to hear anymore.” 

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath. “You been reading all day?”

“God, I wish,” I tell him. “I had to brave the grocery store—“ 

“Mm, braver than any US Marine.”

“—and cooked some things for the next few days. All the Valentine’s candy was so cheap but I only bought a few bags.” 

“Mm.” There’s shuffling against the speaker of the other phone, his voice muffled and it comes out sleepy and far away as he says, “good girl.”

My insides twist up with want. Not so much over his words but more over his tone, the intimacy of a voice raw with exhaustion.

Joel clears his throat. “What'd you cook?” 

“Nothing special,” I tell him, “I made chicken, rice and broccoli to take to work and then ate an entire pizza while watching television.”

He laughs. “You contain multitudes, pretty girl.” 

Silence falls between us, easy and comforting, and I’m struck by how close I am to sleep just listening to him fight it off. 

He takes another breath and lets it out. “Listen, baby, I gotta talk to you.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting up. “Okay.”

“It's not bad, it’s just…” He trails off and I can hear him shuffling, another groan followed by the sound of his head resting on the headboard. “You know how that child of mine is whip smart?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, she figured me out, sweetheart.”

I can feel the muscles in my face pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“She knew I was lying to her the other day that I was just watching television,” he continues. “She said I’m always smiling now and sneaking off to take calls in secret.”

“So she knows about me?” I ask.

“Hmm, she knows there’s a woman that I’m seeing and I told her that I like you a lot and that you’re important to me and I want to keep seeing where things go with you.”

“And what did she say?” 

“She told me she can’t believe anybody would like my grumpiness or my creakiness.” 

“Your creakiness?” I ask on a laugh.

“Yeah, she said I sound like a bowl of rice krispies when I stand up or sit down.”

“Oh my god,” I breathe out. “You do. Oh, you’re such an old man.”

He laughs, steady and comforting and it fills me up.

“Look,” he goes on. “If you’re worried about her mother—“

“Joel.” 

“You’ve never asked me about her,” he says.

I shrug against the pillows at my back. “I figured you would tell me when you wanted to, I’m not interested in poking open closed wounds.”

“How do you know it’s a wound?” He asks and I can see those two lines of concentration between his eyebrows even from the tone of his voice.

“Because you’ve never said anything about her,” I tell him. “She's not in any of the pictures of Sarah in your house so I assumed it was a wound.” 

“Well,” he says on a hard breath out. “I’m telling you about her now and… if there’s any worry you have—“

“I don’t, that’s not me.”

“I know but, still… I told you I went off the deep end when my parents died. I got Sarah’s mom pregnant and I thought I was doing the right thing by marrying her. I missed being a member of a family and, you know, I saw it as a sign that I was being given a chance to build one out of all that hurt I felt.”

Water rises up in his voice, shaking and threatening like a dam begging to burst in a hard rain. It hits me that this is the foundation of all those jokes, the small comments, telling me to break his heart and do it soon to minimize the damage.

“She didn’t want to be a mom though,” he continues. “Or a wife. She just didn’t think she had any options to get out of it. Sh-she signed over all her rights, our marriage just went away like it never happened—poof.” He snaps his fingers. “I don’t know where she is now, I just hope she’s happier… and she was the last time I saw her. I was never really angry at her, just scared.”

Silence falls between us and I can hear the measured way he breathes in, harder than a sniffle, and the exhales he pushes out of his mouth.

“Are you there still?” He asks after several minutes.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

With my head in the pillows and a hurt in my heart.

“That was a lot,” he says. “It’s so late and that was a lot, I—I’m sorry.”

“It is late,” I affirm, “but I don’t think this is a conversation you’d have with me in the light of day, baby.”

Joel laughs but it’s laced with a sadness and I feel like I should apologize but I know him. I know I’m right. 

“You’re still scared,” I whisper and he sighs with relief like he’s finally been seen.

“Yeah.” That dam does start cracking now. “Scared out of my mind but”—he sucks in a breath again—“just have to keep finding something to fight for.”

 Quiet. Again. Just him and I at the end of our days in separate beds but still together. I want him here, I want to be there. After all of these words exchanged, I know he has thoughts of scaring me away rushing through his mind again. I don’t call them out—just reassurance isn’t enough to keep them at bay.

“Anyway, baby, I miss you.” He laughs again after that, the smallest sound of disbelief pushed through closed lips. “Just showing my hand every day here aren’t I?” 

“They’re good hands, Joel.”

He says, “yeah,” like I’m humoring him and then, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart. Sleep well.”

Sleeping well is not something I can do, hasn’t been since I came home, but I don’t tell him that. I tell him goodnight and let him be the first to hang up after a couple more moments of silence, not wanting to be the one to end the call tonight.

Before I close my eyes, I pick his name out of my contact menu and choose the option to send a message. I think for a moment, considering whether or not I really should send this and wondering how he’ll take it. After a few moments, I take a breath and type, “I dreamt about your hands last night.”

February 25, 2003: 

“You ever gonna tell me about this dream you had?” He asks.

I woke up to several texts begging for clarification with more questions coming throughout every conversation of the last week as I’ve dodged the subject and continued on in other areas. 

Not that Joel would ever admit to begging.

I look over at him now in the passenger seat, leaned back and tucked down with eyes closed looking for relief from the day he’s already had. 

“You ever gonna tell me about the one you had the night I stayed over?” I counter.

“I told you,” he says, “I'm not telling you shit until I can have you flat on your back to recreate it.” 

“I guess you have your answer then.” 

He laughs and his whole body moves with it followed by a twist of pain in his face.

“You okay, Joel?”

“I'm fine,” he says through a yawn. “Barely slept last night, migraine coming on. I know I’m not being great company, sweetheart.”

“Do you need something for the migraine?” I’m halfway to my bag before I’ve finished asking but he grabs my wrist, pulling it up to his chest instead and holding it there beneath both of his hands. 

“I'm fine, baby—already took something.”

“Maybe you should go home,” I suggest.

He shakes his head, tells me there's no sick days in construction.

“That's gotta be bullshit.” 

“The only thing that’s bullshit, darling”—he peeks one eye open at me—“is that you won’t tell me what this dream of yours was about.” 

It’s been ten days since he had me underneath him, fevered up to the tips of my ears with how badly I wanted him. Ten days since, what he calls, the biggest cockblock of the century. That doesn’t sound quite right though, it was probably very low on the ratings list given how many parents must have experienced being called away for sickness.

Ten days of a kid that feels better but still refuses everything she normally likes to eat, afraid of getting sick again. Apparently she picked it up from her favorite pizza place. Joel doesn’t think he’s ever seen somebody go through so much betrayal as Sarah is now.

Ten days of double shifts for me while he drove back and forth across Travis County completing two jobs and still somehow managed to bring me coffee or chocolate or even just a kiss.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

“For me? What could you ever have for me—“ He stops speaking as I hold the envelope out to him, eyeing it suspiciously before sitting up fully.

Joel opens the envelope slowly, remarking that it’s rather heavy so it can’t just be a card and then his eyes go wide as he catches the first glimpse of the polaroids. “Alison, you didn’t.”

“I did,” I confirm. “Keep them safe.” 

Groaning he adjusts he adjusts himself, back arching in a stretch before he lays himself back down. “How much time do I have left in here with you?”

I check my watch. “About ten minutes.”

Face pinched up in anger, his nostrils flair. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll take the damn sick time. Tommy can finish the job for all I care.” 

“You don’t like taking care of yourself,” I tell him.

Both eyes open. “What?”

“This was the tone you had at the hospital that day we met,” I say. “You were about to leave, you thought it was pointless to be there.” 

“I didn't think it was—“

“You would rather have duct taped your face together than be on that gurney, Joel. It’s not a question, I’m telling you.”

He smiles. “I met you out of it so I think it was worth it.”

“Forget me,” I say. “I love how much you care for other people, Joel, but you cannot take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself. I know there are times you just have to push through it but this isn’t one of them. Sarah feels better now, most of the work you were absolutely needed for is finished. Go home, take a shower and then go to sleep.”

My hand is still held between both of his and he pulls it to his lips now. “Will you come tuck me in?”

“I can’t,” I tell him. “But I’d love to.”

“Mm, you got a hot date, I understand. What’s his name?”

“No, I-I’m going back home for a couple of days,” I tell him.

Both eyes open and he lets go of my hand to push himself up, “you don’t sound too pleased, Alison.” 

There’s—I—“ I can’t think of how to say it. I didn’t tell him when I got the news yesterday, it didn’t really impact me all that much. It’s not that I felt nothing but I didn’t really feel anything either—I still don’t. But knowing now how he dealt with the loss of his parents, how much he values family, I don’t want to give this image he has of me a callus nature.

“Alison?” He sits up further, repeating his question. “Is everything okay?”

“My grandfather died.”

“And here I am complaining about a goddamn headache,” he breathes out. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrug. “He wasn’t a great guy,” I tell him. “Not to me, anyway. He wasn’t the greatest guy. He kicked my mom out when she got pregnant and he only mildly tolerated my existence for my grandmother’s sake but I still want to be there for her,” I tell him. “And for my mom, you know? Like, he didn’t really like me but that’s still her dad.” 

He nods, eyes searching my face.

“Anyway,” I continue. “I fly out tonight. I’m taking bereavement leave so I’ll cash in on my doubles next week or whatever.”

“Well, if you need me for any reason or, I don’t know, want me”—he kisses my hand again—“just tell me.” 

February 27, 2003:

Stumbling drunk and full of shit.

That is the end to a hated man’s wake.

At least it is for me.

Shaking hands through tears brought on by rye whiskey, I thanked mourners and took their food and thanked more.

Through every question of, “Do you remember me?” From people who apparently knew me as a baby.

Every statement of, “Look how big you got!” Followed by a wink as eyes went from my chest to my ass and back.

I smiled sadly and I said thank you and I took another drink.

I love my mother.

I love my grandmother.

But I hate the people they come from; hate the ones they married and mated with respectively.

One person remarked that they were shocked I’d actually shown up.

I promised to stay through the weekend, help my mother and grandmother sort through the bills and the bullshit but I can’t. I can’t do this, I can’t be here. 

I can’t stay and listen to the crimes I’ve committed according to a dead man, including being born and abandoning my family. As if he didn’t set the precedent by throwing a pregnant fifteen year old on the street in the seventies. 

He came around about the time I was two months old, moved my mother and, by default, me back into the family home. We stayed there until I was fifteen, sleeping in the same room like sisters until my mother married rich enough for us to, as she put it, “strike out on our own.”

We actually were on our own six months later when the marriage dissolved faster than it started with the rumor of a brother or sister on the way. Which was just that—a rumor. Nothing was wrong with him, she just moves too fast in search of the high of an orgasm and when she was done with that—when she was coming down on those days after—he was too.

Nobody was abusive, mad or outwardly angry. I was just the elephant in the room born into fear and tension. Now I’m the elephant in the room except everybody’s sad and I’m indifferent. 

The tension remains, however. Because when it came time for college, I took the Pell grants available to me and went to the farthest away school that had accepted me. I wanted to be something other than what others thought of me or thought I would become.

Alone in the hotel room, telling Joel all of this now, I realize there are actual tears stinging my eyes and not just the burn of alcohol on an empty stomach shooting acid reflux up to my eyeballs.

“God, fuck.” Wiping away snot with the palm of my hand, I laugh. “This is so pathetic, Joel, I’m sorry.” 

“What’s pathetic about it, baby?” 

“All of it.” My head’s not spinning. It hasn’t been for a while. 

“No,” he tells me. “None of it.” 

“I became a nurse because I wanted to prove that I could actually be useful,” I tell him. “That's so fucking ridiculous.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

A beat. Maybe two. God, my head’s already pounding.

“I was just constantly reminded that I was a mistake or, rather”—I laugh—“an unfortunate byproduct of my mother’s promiscuity. Chose a career that’s never out of demand. You know? I technically… shouldn’t be here so I’m paying for my life by making sure I’m the most useful I can be.”

I am fully crying now, the heat of embarrassment flushing across every inch of my body.

“And to make it that much worse, everybody just had to comment on my weight, including my mom’s creepy uncle who”—hiccup—“who actually patted my stomach and said there was nothing wrong with a little more cushion for the pushin’.” 

“He did what?”

“And, like, yeah… I get it,” I go on. “I’m not as skinny as I was when I left for college but I’m also not starving myself anymore—I’m not sick anymore.” Goddamn it. My head is in my hands, body folded forward to contain the hunger and sadness that I feel. “Goddamn it,” I say. “I’m spiraling, Joel, I’m sorry.” 

“Alison, take a deep breath.” Joel’s tone is low, stern and sad. “Stop apologizing to me,” he says as I follow his instructions. “I’m sorry that this is what you’ve dealt with from your family, that shit is not fair, but I want to make one thing very clear to you right now—you are not, and never have been, a mistake. Teenagers had sex, it’s what they do, and a baby happened because of it. Because that is what happens and you should never have been made to feel like your existence was your fault. Your mother was the responsibility of her parents and they failed her and blamed you for it.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay is good enough for now,” he says. “But, sweetheart, I want you to actually believe it.” 

“Maybe someday,” I tell him.

“Now… I’m trying not to sound like an asshole here, baby, but what is wrong with your weight?” 

“Nothing,” I tell him. “Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just… I was like ninety-something pounds when I went to college and now I am noticeably m-more than that. You know? I have a stomach with rolls and thighs. I have tits, I have an ass.” I’m naming these things I’m proud of having as if I’m ashamed, that’s what two days has done to me here.

“Ninety-something pounds?” If I actually broke his heart, this is what I imagine he would sound like. “That’s—fuck. That’s almost what Sarah weighs, baby. Where are you right now?”

“I'm at the hotel,” I answer. “I didn't want to stay with my mom and her husband or my grandma. I knew I would feel like shit but, Jesus… I do not want to bring this shit back to Austin.”

“You said you changed your flight to tomorrow? What time?”

“Late,” I respond. “It was only like twenty bucks to switch to the late Friday flight but it would’ve been two hundred for the early one.”

“Tell me what time, I’ll pick you up.”

“I told you, baby, it’ll be late.” I rub at the point between my eyebrows, tensed up around a headache. “Don’t worry about picking me up.”

“I'm your boyfriend,” Joel says, a smile in his voice. “I should pick my girlfriend up from the airport.” 

He can’t see it but I’m shaking my head, still wiping away the tears that did fall—are falling. “Joel, you can’t leave Sarah in the house alone.”

“Okay, baby,” he concedes. “Get some sleep.” 

February 28, 2003: 

Landing in Austin is the first breath I feel like I’ve taken in days.

I don’t think I’ve ever pulled off a sweatshirt faster, hugging it into my stomach while the cool—but much warmer than Boston—air hits my shoulders as I walk the bridge from the plane to the gate.

Mom wanted to drive me to the airport after we met for lunch but I couldn’t do it. I needed to separate and compartmentalize before boarding. Because I didn’t want to bring the events of the day before back home and I didn’t want to bring it back to Joel.

Joel who, as I walk through baggage claim, is waiting for me with his hands in his pockets and a look like he’s bracing for impact.

“I told you not to leave Sarah,” I tell him as I meet him by the doors.

“They’re having a redo of that slumber party tonight,” he says, taking my bag and hoisting it up on his shoulder. “You said you were coming in on a later flight so I looked up what time every flight from Boston was landing. I came straight here after work.”

“It's close to eleven, Joel!” I turn on him in the parking lot. "You’ve been sitting here since work ended?”

He nods.

“Have you even eaten?” I catch sight of his truck and start moving towards it. “Oh my god, you must be so fucking tired.” 

Following me, he tells me that he is tired but that he’s eaten. Then he tells me the exhaustion means nothing because it was more important to him to be here for me.

I was wrong about landing being the first breath I’ve taken in days.

There’s so much comfort in him—in his coffee covered, sawdust scent.

“I told you, you didn’t have to come get me.”

“I know what you said,” he confirms with me. “But let’s switch for a second, okay? If I’d called you from two thousand miles away, drunk and crying, would you not be picking my ass up from the airport?” 

“I would be.”

“So here I am, baby.” 

He kept one hand on me until he put the car in park and was out the door before I was, grabbing the bag from the back.

“I can take it now, Joel, thank you.” 

“Do you not want me to come up with you?” He asks. “You can tell me.”

“I would love for you to come upstairs, I just don’t want you seeing me like this.” I shrug when he raises his eyebrows, the movement slipping the strap of my tank top down. “I'm really embarrassed about what happened on the phone last night.” 

“I'm not,” he says. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, not with me. I barely slept last night, I just wanted you to be okay. After what you told me last night, I should be the one asking if you’ve eaten—“

Asserting that I have, I tell him he doesn’t have to worry about me. Tell him that it’s fine, I’m fine and I’m home now so it can only get better. I don’t tell him about how I’ll be worse before that happens—further down before any up can be gained.

Joel steps back a pace, looks me up and down, and then forward again, closer this time, and smiles. “Good, now can we get out of the cold before your lips turn blue or is that something else I have to worry myself sick over, Alison?”

He takes the keys from me on the third try when I drop them because my hands are shaking I can’t get them in. He can be not embarrassed all he wants but that doesn’t change where I’m at. Where I know I’ll be for a while, because it’s where I go when there’s too much happening at once.

The elevator’s slow, filling up my ears with the high pitched humming of operation. Joel still has the keys when we reach my door and he holds them up.

“Which one?”

“Um”—I grab the end of the skinnier key—“this one.”

But he takes it back from me to turn the lock instead.

And then I’m home, genuine relief flooding into me the moment I’m across the threshold. Even more when I hear the drop of the bag before strong arms find me.

Pulling me back against his chest, he presses kiss after gentle kiss into my temple.

“I need you to know that when I answered the phone and heard you crying, my fucking heart almost stopped.” Rough hands slide beneath the fabric of my shirt and squeeze me tighter. “I was so worried.”

“Does Sarah really have a redo on her sleepover? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

“She does,” he says. “No pizza this time.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that last night?” I ask him.

“I would've loved to, sweetheart,” he breathes into my skin, “but you weren’t in a spot where you wanted to hear it. Would you even have changed your mind if I’d told you?”

“No.”

“Right,” he says and he takes the sweatshirt, still hugged to my stomach, out of my hands to toss across to the couch before pulling me closer still. “Now, do you want to shower or do you want food? What can I do for you to help?” 

Turning in his arms, I push my face into his chest and breathe him in. “I’m fine, baby, thank you,” I tell him on the exhale. “You can head on home if you need to.” 

A small expletive born out of frustration tumbles into my hair and his chest rises against mine. “I don’t give a shit about me, Alison.” His chest falls. “What do you need?” 

[i-need-air]

Hey it's me again ❤️

I'm just gonna whisper something in your mind (is that even possible?)

Having a baby with Hybrid Katsuki.

Just that. Imagine girl. Perfection.

Ok, real talk here. Every time I see a request from you I uwu a little bit bc I know for a fact whatever you're requesting will make me get so immersed and involved and I'm gonna 💕💞AAAAAA💕💞 while writing AND [lemmecatchmybreath] it happened once again skdjdkfkf Hope you enjoy and sorry it took longer than normal~

Word count: 1.8k

× listen 🥺 I already started and I'm melting, ok?

× when he finds out you're having a smol baby together?

× he freezes and looks at you in a whole different light

× if you're getting pregnant, he will definitely smell the change in your scent and will know even before you do; he'd be instantly by your side with a bewitched expression on his face, taking your cheeks into his palms to just soak everything in yet he's shaking slightly

× and even if you adopt [hopefully a smol hybrid], something deep inside of Katsuki, burried and long forgotten surfaces

× this is the life he always wanted, he always craved even in his darker moments

× this happiness, this fulfillment, this joy

× I absolutely believe he will diligently read and learn everything about the baby to come; will educate himself like no other, deciding to be the very best father he could ever be

× his life was rough and he was stolen away from his biological family, he will now have a chance to have his own and he will not fail you or the baby

× when you hold the little bundle of sunshine in your hands, head down admiring the beauty of a new life, he will stand there, again in shock, again soaking this moment in... so beautiful, so perfect

× will he ever tell you that? of course not; angry ass wild pomeranian—

× but his face gives him away every single time and when you tilt yourself to hand him his new son or daughter, he falls in love for the second time in his life;

× he burries his nose in the soft and fragile skin of the baby's head and breathes in, his instinct kicking in to defend, protect, care, look out for...

× watch carefully because once the baby makes a noise, he'll still, unsure of what to do, but smile so softly as the baby coos in his arms securely; that right there is the best image you can have of soft Katsuki.

× the first few weeks are actually horrible, sorry to break it to everyone aksjskdj not because he doesn't know what to do or does not want to help; on the contrary, he is so incredibly attentive but he also recites the books he learned by memory at this point and it's getting absolutely infuriating;

× although understand him, please; he wants to prove he's a good dad 🥺 except you wanna smack him bc he scoffs if you suggest something he isn't sure about.

× you will find him standing by the baby's crib as it sleeps; he's just???? making sure this is not a dream????? don't question anything though

× can we hc Bakugou with a daughter too? [ already established in the Hybrid!Kiri hcs that Kiri'd have daughter bUT i just really really like beefy men with tiny daughters;;; my heartttt;;; ]

× his little angel, no discussion, no argument, his daughter can do NO WRONG!

× he's very down to earth though, don't get me wrong, he just absolutely adores spoiling her

× speaks softly into her ear, the lowest you'd hear from him

× gruff, raspy, gutural voice ofter overused to scream now low and soft as he holds her into his chest; doesn't do baby-voices or anything like that, but calls her his angel then smirks at you if you're watching;;; then starts softly complaining and bitching about you to the baby 💀 all while rubbing her back

× omfg his hand is as big as her tiny back; guys, call an ambulance, I'm—

× Katsuki would be the type of little shit to pull what I just said then grab you and glue you to his chest too; he'd look down at you both, eyes shining in such adoration he'd take your breath away just before he continues his ranting about you;

× once the baby starts being more interactive, her giggles specially the ones induced by her daddy will make him melt; absolute diminute baby with a small wiggling tail clapping her chubby hands at her dad? his eyes would widen suddently, ears snapping high in surprise and he's taken back by the emotions overtaking him

× he's gone, man; she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger and you can't do anything about it

× instantly acts all in denial if someone is around though; scoffs to hide is obvious smile, placing a palm on his mouth to further block it out and tickles her with the other, earning another fit of giggles

× please, don't tell him his whole tail is waving from side to side

× the only clear giveaway apart from his ears and it's;;; a d o r a b l e;;;

× specially when your daughter also starts wagging her tail in response whenever he does it;

× "Hey, come see what the dumbass is doing!" or "Look at what she did" while showing you a video; proud pappa 🥺

× we're bringing back Proud Bakugou bc hIS DAUGHTER iS tHe BeSt; no, seriously, his kid is the mf best in the world and he will start this presentation with—

× now sit down with me and accept this: the baby; yes, your sweet daughter; mhm, that adorable screeching angel; mhm;;; she'll talk so early it's disturbing.

× at 6 months or so she's already saying mamma, dadda, kitty, woof-woof

× seriously terrifying how sharp she is and how she cannot shut up; for the love of gOd, Katsuki, this is all your fault... it doesn't matter, he just smirks as he has another reason to brag to anyone about his child

× did that street vendor look at him funny? "I'M GONNA FUCKING TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAUGHTER—"

× super-protective of her and fucking hates with a burning passion if anyone dares to do that thing where they match up babies saying "Maybe they'll get married when they grow up"

× hands down, no filter, he just looks deep down in whoever had the audacity and says "Like fucking shit they'd deserve her."

× drag him away before he throws fists

× he will definitely if you don't drag him away and you know it, they know it, the baby knows it and cheers for pappa, the whole world knows it at this point and they're buying tickets to watch the shitshow

× chest carrier and walks around with the kid like a boss

× man has shit to do, don't even dare to judge him;

× handles fits really well, he's impressive to say at least

× she's spoiled, yes and always has new toys, coloring books, whatever she wants but the moment she throws fits, he puts his foot down

× baby would be smol angery bb all adorable in all her Bakugou genetics anger and he'd just stare, tapping his foot

× literally waits in place until she calms and looks up at him with big, round eyes, puffy red cheeks and ears lowered

× mission accomplished; he nods then picks her up;

× and you're there amazed??????

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" lil shit still has a foul mouth tho, but make him get just as pouty and embarrassed as the child in his arms by saying something cheesy like "How amazing you are as a dad 💕"

× all rainbows and unicorns until she starts repeating insults and fr tho, Katsu almost shits his pants, fearing your reaction. Will, hands down, chill out with the insults even if he meant no damage with them; he has this unreadable expression on, a mix of shame and fluster, dread too? he's sorry, ok????

× loves, loves, loves cooking for you both and once the kiddo has her own special chair to sit at the dining table together, that's when he sees it: his dream

× you, wiping some food off her cheek with a loving expression, talking about your day casually, baby giggling while she moves her face away playfully; he loves you both so much.

× has these rare moments where, at the end of the day once you're settled in bed, he'd hug you tight and thank you in his mind for... for this... all of it...

× once she starts walking they're both a disaster

× seriously, do not expect the household to be silent ever again [ well, that dream was gone long ago anyway lol ]

× "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

× rapid giggle running around from place to place

× "Oh, for fucks—"

× "Katsuki." you only need to say, catching him in his insults

× 😳 ... "Kid, come back, we're goin' to the park." Skdjkdfkl

× sudden adorable tiny fast steps approach him bc they're going for walkies!

× he is very careful with her and teaches her about stranger danger; also teaches her how to growl and even if her attempt is a total failure, small rawr leaving her lips, he's like "Yes. Good job. Now give it more heart."

× he growls as an example

× she growls back, sounding like a cute lil pup 🥺💕

× as she grows up, she obviously acts more like her father yet he knows when to stop the bad behaviors and it only takes a warning growl from him to get her to cease

× yet somehow you're the strict parent at the end of the day??????? tf????????? who made the rules??????

× starts calling her brat, squirt, lil shit 💕lovingly💕

× "your child" if she did something bad

× "Your fucking child kicked the ball into the vase and broke it." Aha, nice one, Katsuki. Good job.

× not to brag but her puppy eyes don't work on him but yours do; the problem is her puppy eyes do work on you bc she's the light of your life so if she wants something; she'll puppy-eye you knowing you'll get it for her bc daddy loves you very much 💕💞

× literally evil mastermind; didn't I tell you she's sharp? pft, she's playing you both so hard

× every day he comes back from work she runs to him at the door, tail wiggling happily behind her as she stretches her arms to be picked up and he always does, without a doubt, then proceeds to kiss the top of her head

× come out to greet him too? the whole loving routine is his absolute thing and wants to see you, have you kiss his cheek; he complains but adores it soooooo much!

× you have a family night; BONDING WITH MOODY POMERANIANS. Yes, plural, and it sounds perfect~

× even if it's just one of those animated movies he hates so much, he'll watch through all of it and make sarcastic comments just to make you both laugh; will grin satisfied asf if he manages to do so bc he's the best.

× will definitely want another kid, so how about maybe a boy??? hmm???

× asks you if you're up for the idea and if you agree, he'll roll his eyes and crack his shoulders, acting so very uninterested and purely exhausted yet his smirk would give him away:

× "Knew you'd torture me with another devil"

× throw him out, istg— 💀

[the-cookie-of-doom]

In estranged , what if claudia took Mitch with her? What would their dinamics be like? How would Mitch feel about Noah stilinski? What is his reaction when he finds out he's about to have a baby brother? I just need Mitch being ruthelssly protective of stiles. I need stiles being spoiled by Mitch and them having the cutest sibling pair ever. I need Claudia teaching Mitch how to control his powers and teaching him about ✨magic✨. I need Mitch being the most famous lacrosse player in school and little stiles, Noah and Claudia cheering for him across the field. I need Mitch taking over his father's company ( he's still the heir) fixing it up the same way , but this time he has actual support. I need Mitch having real friends and family 🥺💔

Oooh this is a Good Ask, I love talking about the What Ifs 👀 (Edit to add: Also, not many people realize, but Estranged really is a tragedy. And seeing it side by side with how things could've been just makes it worse.)

The central mystery of the AU is why Claudia didn't take him with her (and there was a reason! She didn't just abandon him like everyone assumes), so I can't tell you much about that without spoiling the whole thing! I promise I'm going to write the sequels some day. But let's just say that she was protecting him, and the Nogitsune is involved.

I can also say that had they actually been raised together, they would've been a platonic pair. They only end up together in Estranged because they're strangers to each other, and their respective abandonment issues react interestingly, shall we say xD

But aside from that, it would pretty much happen exactly as you think! Mitch has no love for his own father, so I think he would respect John bc he makes his mom happy, and that's all Mitch wants. But John would treat Mitch just like a son and before long, Mitch would love him like a father.

I think in this case, rather than casting Mitch aside, Robert (his father), would have sued for custody. He would see it as Claudia not only leaving him, but stealing his heir, and he can't have that. And Mitch knows it; his father only wanted a legacy, not a son. There's also the fact that a lot of men sue for custody as a way to hurt their partner, by taking away her children. Robert is spiteful enough to do that, given their divorce reflects badly on him and his reputation.

In the beginning Robert might be more active in Mitch's life than he was in Estranged. Might try to bribe him with materialistic things, giving him a lavish life to make Mitch choose him over Claudia, but it never works. Because on one hand, you have a rich life that's cold and hollow with a father who doesn't care; or you have a more modest life with a family that loves you. Mitch is the kind of person to choose family every time, at least in this AU.

When he's old enough (I think it's 15, but it could be younger), Mitch would choose to stay with Claudia full time. At that point Robert would likely fully cut him off, aside from what he's legally required to pay, and give up his parental rights. Maybe Mitch should be hurt that his father is throwing him away, but he's really just relieved that it's finally over. And it means John could adopt him and officially, legally become his father. But until then, Mitch would have to live with being jerked around between two parents, which only gets harder when Stiles is born, because he doesn't want to leave his little brother behind. (Maybe it's every other month, given the distance.)

Also at some point, Mitch definitely tries to create credit fraud, probably when he's like 13 lol. He's just a kid but the financial differences are obvious. Claudia thinks it was very sweet that he was trying to help, but makes him give everything back. (In "canon", Mitch does steal his dad's credit card and buys a plane ticket to California when he's I think 14? But he gets caught before he can make it.)

Mitch would probably be so excited to have a little brother, but also Worried bc his childhood was so emotionally Rough, so he promises to always make sure Stiles is loved and cared for ;_; I think there's the opportunity for jealousy bc Stiles has both of his parents to unconditionally love him, meanwhile his are divorced, but honestly? Claudia raised him better than that. Mitch just wants to be a Good Brother.

Since a lot of his problems with his powers come from Claudia locking them until she died, Mitch would have a way better time growing up with her. She would teach him how to properly use and control them, and keep them from overwhelming him. In Estranged, the telepathy is actively killing him, but she would be able to protect him from that. And then when Stiles gets his powers, Mitch would get to help teach him, too.

Mitch would likely also have a tie to the Hales, since he'd have gone to school with Derek and Laura. Given he's psychic, he would've been able to protect Derek from Kate, and the Hales never would've died. (And bc I can't help myself: Mitch would probably end up dating Laura, and Stiles would eventually become Derek's mate/the Hale emissary. I like what I like, okay!)

Mitch would absolutely be a lacrosse star. It's American Assassin canon, and it's one of my favorite things about Mitch. He would still get the scholarship to Syracuse, but where he turned it down in Estranged bc he didn't need it, this time he would actually accept it, and go on to have a great college sports career. Or maybe he takes a smaller partial scholarship to a school closer to home.

I just reread the ask and see you want him to still take over the company, but I was actually thinking that in this AU, it would take a different direction. Robert lives bc Mitch was never there to kill him; his company is run into the ground and he doesn't know he's been betrayed by his partners until it's too late. That legacy he worked so hard for, destroyed his family for, turns to ashes right in front of him. He lives, but for a man like him, it's worth than death.

Meanwhile he gets to see Mitch's success grow. He's making headlines in college, and Lacrosse is much bigger on the east coast so of course his father would hear about it. He's got offers to go pro, but Mitch has lived the high life before, and he doesn't want it. He chooses a modest life with his family, in a career he loves, over money and fame. Works in a few different restaurants in San Francisco until he has the experience to open one of his own. He names it Orion, as a final fuck you to his father. (And, on a more sappy note - Orion is one of the main constellations to navigate by. It's what guides him home; to his real family, and the life he's built, not the one his father wanted for him.)

Because Mitch is with Claudia, fully trained in his magic, she never dies. There are other conflicts and close calls, but they're able to protect each other, and a young Stiles. But she never gets FTD, bc in Estranged, that not even what she had in the first place, and they survive. Not unscathed, but it's not they can't get through together ;_;

And then, the day Mitch is finally able to open his own restaurant (Either the same age he is in Estranged, or a little older, but definitely still Young for the industry), his family are all there to support him. John and Claudia and Stiles, and it will be absolutely packed (haha) with the Hales opening night. It's one of the proudest days of his life.

[starkerforlife6969]

Jealousy’s a Dancer - starker/spidershield, ft creepy Norman

hello you fucking ray of sunshine, can you write one where norman osborne goes to some big ballet production where Peter is dancing (the nutcracker? it's christmas?) and literally just falls in love with my boo and starts stalking him but peter doesn't want to worry anyone and so the tony&gang are so fkn jealous and possessive in diff ways and then norman SNATCHES MY BABE and gets bruised up and hurt in the process and they raise HELL... OR (same anon, ran out of space bc i love everything you write and you scratch my NEED for soft, sweet adorable peter) you can just make it a drabble and make it solely starker or steve/peter or whatever is easiest for you. omfg i love you. i'm gonna go crawl back to hell; the tour bus is leaving without me

This is the nicest way anyone has ever asked for a story ever??? So, um, I love you. Let’s get all sorts of married. And I hope this doesn’t disappoint!

TW: mentions of violence, kidnapping, jealousy, obsession. Mafia Boss Tony and Body Guard Steve, Ballerina Peter

Tony’s face is creased with worry and regret, as he draws Peter into his arms and kisses him firmly on the forehead. “I’m so sorry I won’t make it, sweetheart,” he whispers, and Peter smiles, and surges onto his tiptoes and kisses Tony right on the nose.

“Daddy,” he murmurs sweetly, shaking his head. “It’s okay, really. Steve’s coming and ’m on for five nights, you can-“

“But I’m missing opening night.” Tony groans, “and you’ve been working so hard, and I…” he shakes his head angrily, and there’s murder in his eyes. “I’m gonna kill whoever it was that blew up our shipment, baby. Because they’ve interfered with you and I never tolerate that.”

Peter wants to urge his boyfriend not to kill anyone, but really, there’s no convincing Tony when he’s this upset. So, instead, he peppers kisses onto Tony’s beard until the older man huffs a fond laugh and hoists Peter up into a hug.

“You’re going to be superb,” Tony insists, and he smells of gunpowder and and expensive fabric. It’s a smell Peter associates with safety and comfort, and he nuzzles in closer. “You give me the names of anyone who doesn’t give you a standing ovation and I’ll hunt them down.”

Peter giggles at that and promises for the umpteenth time that it’s really, really okay, before Tony finally goes to sort out business.

Opening night is tomorrow, and he’s still a little jittery. But he’s excited, and he can’t wait, and he hopes the reviews are good and-

The front door opens and for a second Peter thinks Tony’s come back and decided to leave the manhunting for another night- but it’s Steve, wrapped up warm from the cold, winter air.

“Steve!” Peter squeals delightedly, bounding into his arms, and Steve chuckles, catching him easily and kissing him gently on the lips. “You just missed Tony!”

“Shit, really?” Steve frowns, setting Peter down gently and unwinding his scarf. “I have to talk to him- something big’s come up- Dubroveski’s doubled his men, I have to go with him.”

Peter nods worriedly, following on his heels as Steve heads for the bedroom. “Do you want me to call him for you or…?”

Steve shakes his head distractedly. “No, no, baby, don’t worry. I’ll pack a bag real quick and catch up with him at the airport.” 

Peter nods, and sits on the bed as Steve packs. It then occurs to him that-

“Oh!” He gasps, a little sadly, and Steve’s head snaps up worriedly. “Oh- it’s nothing, really,” he hurries, but those blue eyes are relentless, so Peter’s shoulders slump a little and he blushes. “It’s silly, really, I know how important your work is but- it’s opening night tomorrow and-“

“Shit.” Steve whispers, closing his eyes in frustration. He immediately abandons his bags and comes to sit by Peter on the bed. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have slipped my mind. You know what, I’ll have Clint tail Tony instead and-“

“No, no!” Peter insists worriedly, because Steve is the best bodyguard and Peter couldn’t handle it if something happened to Tony because Peter had been selfish. “You have to go, it’s fine! You can both come to one of the other nights.”

Steve frowns, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, scooping Peter up and onto his lap. “I’m sorry, doll, really.”

Peter smiles warmly, “I know you are. Now come on, if you don’t pack Tony one of his Armani suits he’s gunna be angry that he couldn’t do his fashion power play.”

Steve snorts at that. “It is his go to move.”

*** Norman normally doesn’t care for the ballet.

If anything, he’s annoyed that he’s here. Some bullshit tickets were purchased for Oscorp’s charity fundraiser and here he is, in one of the most expensive seats, watching the Nutcracker.

It’s a cliché of a Christmas ballet and he’s wondering whether he can get away with sleeping through it when-

The boy walks on.

He’s beautiful. One of the most beautiful young men Norman has ever seen. He can’t be older than 21 and his costume is fitted, leaving nothing to the imagination, and he’s cloaked in pink glitter and salmon silk and Norman coils his hands into fists and wants.

Suddenly, he’s very grateful for his vantage point, and for the viewing glasses he has. Suddenly, he’s invested.

The boy is the epitome of grace and elegance as he moves. Technically perfect and wonderfully in tune with the music. Norman was forced to see a lot of ballet performances as a boy and he knows that there’s no wonder this boy was cast as Clara. He’s perfect.

The look on his face when the Nutcracker falls, how he falls to his knees, lips parted in a soundless gasp of pain, how he leaps into the air like he weighs less than a feather-

It makes Norman dizzy with desire. How that supple body would feel writhing under his hands, what the boy’s voice sounds like- no doubt, as pretty as him.

When the boy’s not on stage, Norman leafs through the pamphlet. Peter Parker as Clara. Peter Parker. A pretty name for a pretty boy.

He wants to suck hickies into that perfect, marble skin.

The hours pass by like minutes, and when the curtain falls, he’s up on his feet just like everyone else, but he’s only applauding one person.

And it’s the boy who outshone all the dancing dolls and snowflakes and soldiers.

He’s applauding Peter Parker.

* Because he’s Norman Osborn, billionaire and tech-tycoon, it’s easy to get backstage, and what surprises him is the lack of anyone at Peter’s dressing room door.

No girlfriend, then? No boyfriend? People are clearly blind.

Norman knocks, checks his perfectly tailored suit, and is still winded when Peter opens the door.

This close he can see everything. The smattered of freckles across the boy’s dainty nose. The faint dimples as he smiles. The flushed skin with a few strands of oaky, chestnut hair stuck to his forehead. He’s dainty, so small and slender, and he smells like perfume and flowers. The scent is intoxicating.

“Hi?” Peter smiles warmly, looking at him.

“Peter,” Norman grins, extending his hand. “I’m Norman Osborne. I just wanted to stop by and say that you were- are- absolutely remarkable. An exquisite dancer .The true stand out of the company.”

“Mr Osborne?” Peter repeats, aghast. “From Oscorp Industries?”

Norman grins; sharp and proud. “The very same.”

And then the compliment seems to sink in, and the boy goes an even more delicious shade of pink, and he’s inviting Norman into his dressing room. “Thank you so much- I mean- everyone was amazing though. I mean, Harlequin’s dance? I never could have done that in a thousand years, Ronda is amazing-“

“You’re too modest,” Norman cuts him off, even though he’d quite like to listen to the lovely lilt of the boy’s voice for hours. “Forgive me for being too bold, but could I take you out for a drink to celebrate? Perhaps even dinner? You must be starving after a performance like that.”

Peter flushes again, it goes right down his neck. “Mr Osbourne, you’re too kind, really, but you don’t have to-“

“It would be my pleasure.”

Peter smiles, but his eyes are slightly hesitant. They’re lovely eyes. Like melted amber and caught sunlight. “I’m in a relationship, Mr Osbourne,” he says apologetically, “though I’d love to get a drink as friends? I’m not much of a wine drinker but I’ll never say no to something sweet.”

A relationship, Norman wants to roll his eyes. It can’t be much of one, if whoever it is isn’t even here. They don’t deserve a boy like Peter. They wouldn’t know what to do with those needy fingertips and desperate whimpers-

Whoever they are, they’re irrelevant. So, he plays along. “As friends, I would be thrilled.” And he offers his arm.

Like the perfect boy he is, Peter takes it.

** Peter is a vision the second night.

Tony is the first on his feet when the curtain closes, whistling and clapping so hard his palms sting. Steve’s applauding beside him- the whole crowd follow suit and get to their feet, and when the curtain rises and Tony sees his boy, he whistles loudly and throws bouquet after bouquet of blue roses onto the stage.

He’s front row, dead centre, so Peter sees him immediately and bows low and gorgeous.

God, he was perfect. Tony is going to come and watch this performance every night. Peter’s hypnotising on stage. As graceful as a snowflake, he was made to dance.

“You were incredible!” Steve gushes once they’re backstage, scooping Peter into his arms and spinning him around in the air. Peter’s still in his tutu- frilly white and fringed with silver, and he giggles with delight, before Tony reaches in to grab his boy into his arms and kiss him hard.

“Bambino, you’re perfect. Sublime. You’ve blown me away.”

Peter laughs, kissing the underside of Tony’s jaw.”I’m pretty sure those flowers will be covering the stage for ages! How many did you buy?”

“Nowhere near enough for you.” He promises, and Peter laughs- head tipping back, glitter shimmering all over his face. He’s gorgeous, when-

“Norman!” Peter beams, and Steve stiffens as someone enters. Tony turns and his eyes widen a fraction- that’ll all the response he’ll show outwardly. But inwardly, he’s furious. That’s Norman Osbourne, what the hell is Peter doing greeting him like an old friend?

Norman smiles warmly, enveloping Peter in a hug that’s far too fucking familiar- Tony’s already reaching for his gun, but Steve’s hand is gentle and warning on his elbow. Norman’s in a fucking three piece suit- deep green with streaks of velvet embroidery, and Tony’s in Tom Ford- his suit is more expensive, no doubt, but Norman’s suits him better.

When Osbourne finally looks at him, he’s smiling like he knows. It’s a tight, smug, cordial smile. “Tony Stark. What a surprise it is to see you at a place so cultured.” His eyes drift to Steve and he chuckles. “And not without protection, of course.”

“Osbourne.” Tony greets bitterly, “and what are you doing here? Preying on the souls of the young, or-“

“Guys,” Peter laughs nervously, moving to stand between them. “Tony, Steve, this is Norman. We met yesterday at opening night when he came to congratulate me and took me out for a few drinks. And Norman, this is Tony- who you already know- and Steve, my boyfriends.”

Tony smirks, mean and victorious, at Norman’s look of surprise.

“Boyfriends.” Norman repeats, still a little starstruck. “So modern.”

“Peter knows what he wants.” Steve murmurs lowly, and Norman sizes him up, before accordingly stepping back. This isn’t his arena, Tony knows. Norman may have a legitimate tech business but he has a number of goons who Tony’s run into before. Ties to the seedy underbelly of New York.

And now Peter knows him. Norman’s come along- must have done his research about Peter- knew Tony wouldn’t be here and-

“I won’t keep you.” Norman smiles, all polite and fake, “I just wanted to say you were spectacular again, Peter. We must have lunch sometime.”

“Oh sure!” Peter beams, curls tumbling into his eyes. “Text me anytime.”

“Texting.” Norman chuckles again, heading for the door. “So modern.”

* Peter is, understandably, angry when Tony bans him from ever seeing Norman again.

Steve tries not to get too involved, because he knows how quickly Tony’s jealousy can shift to anger, but Peter is yelling now, and Steve can’t bear it when they fight.

“He didn’t even know I was with you!” Peter cries, out of his outfit now, and in his warm, pink pastel pyjamas. He’s still got speckles of glitter across his freckles, but his cheeks are flushed with indignation.

Tony lets out a patient sigh. He’s still in his suit- he’s been pacing agitatedly since they got back, calling some of the others to see if Norman had been sniffing around their operation- and he leans against his oak desk and shakes his head. “Baby, you’re too trusting. He’s lying to you-“

“I’m not-“ Peter glares at him, choking a little, “I’m not an idiot, Tony, he’s not using me! He just- he just wanted to be friends-“

“He’s dangerous.” Tony growls, standing up straight. “I won’t let you put yourself in danger. You’ve known him for what, a day? And you’re already picking him over me?”

Peter gapes at him, swiping his hand viciously through his curls. “Picking him? Tony, I just don’t want you to tell me who I can and can’t see! He’s been nothing but nice to me-“

“He’s using you, Peter, don’t be so blind!” Tony yells.

Tears, crystal and sparkly, slip from Peter’s eyes and he wipes them away as fast as they appeared. Steve gets to his feet and crosses the room, pulling Peter into his arms. He gives Tony a warning look, but the brunet already looks contrite. “That’s the only reason anyone would even talk to me, right? To get to you?

“That’s not what I meant, piccolo, I just worry about you.”

Peter turns away from him, and buries his face into Steve’s chest. He hugs him tightly, rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s small frame. Steve doesn’t trust Norman either but…Norman had looked surprised to see the two of them- to learn about their relationship to Peter. Plus, Tony keeps Peter so well hidden- how could Norman have known-

Tony can’t bear it any longer, before he crosses the room in three long strides and wraps his arms around Peter too, so their boy is cuddled between them. “Let me look into it first,” he pleads quietly, “just to make sure- just to check. Peter, if something happened to you, I-“ his voice wavers uncharacteristically, “I’m not sure what I’d do. But I’m pretty sure a murderous rampage is fairly high on the list.”

Peter looks up, cracking a small smile, and threads his fingers through Tony’s. “And if you don’t find anything?” He asks, sniffling.

Tony pauses, but under Steve’s glance, he sighs. “If there’s nothing then, I won’t stop you.”

*

Try as Tony might to find something, he doesn’t.

It seems more and more likely that Norman found Peter quite by chance, which is just…furiously unlucky.

But true to his word, he doesn’t stop Peter from hanging out with him.

His jealousy gets the better of him a lot of the time. He’s a possessive bastard. Steve’s managing to be above it all, and Tony tries to listen to his advice but it’s hard.

Because all the things he loves most about Peter- his big, honest eyes, his innocence, his belief, his ability to see the best in absolutely everyone- well, it’s all the things that are allowing Norman to elbow his way in.

So far, Norman and Peter have only met up twice- Norman had magically appeared at Peter’s final night of the ballet, and they’d gone out to brunch at a small bistro up on Terrace street the next morning.

Nothing’s happening. Nothing’s happening, Tony knows that. He trusts Peter- he knows that Peter would never, ever cheat. And Peter’s so open about everything- he keeps his phone unlocked and Tony’s seen him texting over his shoulder- all the messages to Norman are polite and courteous and-

Peter is an angel.

But he’s their angel. He’s with Tony and Steve, and-

Tony is greedy. He doesn’t want their boy out with anyone else and-

“Tony,” Steve says urgently, walking into the room with a frown on his face. “Has Peter called yet? I told him to message by six, but he’s still not back.”

“He hasn’t.” Tony mutters worriedly, reaching for his phone. “Who’s he out with?”

“Norman.”

* This is all rather humiliating, if he’s honest.

His head still throbs from where it was slammed into the brickwork, and he thinks his lip is busted from the struggle he put up as he was loaded into the back of a limo.

It’s a nice limo, he thinks dully, looking up at the open roof. He can see the stars rolling by. There are plush leather seats and it smells clean.

Tony’s limo is nicer, though. It has a mini-fridge stocked with all of Peter’s favourite snacks, and there are comfy throw pillows everywhere.

“I wish it hadn’t had to be like this.” Norman says, and Peter lets out a muffled noise through the gag, to see the man looking down at him. “But he’s got you so wrapped around his finger, pet. They don’t care about you. They weren’t even there at your opening night. They let you come out with me. Besides, Stark’s involved with- dangerous operations. Someone like you shouldn’t be anywhere near his line or work.”

Peter rolls his eyes in annoyance, shimmying onto his back. His vision is still a little dizzy, but all he can think of is how smug Tony is gunna be.

Damn, Peter should have listened to him. He’s always right, in the end.

Right on cue- a horrible screeching rings out as another vehicle scrapes along the side of the limo. Norman jolts up, but Peter just curls into a ball and tucks himself as far under the seats as he can- just like Steve taught him.

The screech happens again, and then the driver swerves and they crash to a halt-

Cold wind whips in as the door is wrenched open, and Steve is there- tugging Norman out of the car, and then-

Tony’s there, and he’s scooping Peter out and removing his gag.

“You were right,” Peter gasps, even as he’s carried bridal style in Tony’s arms to their own car. “I’m sorry.” He nuzzles into his throat. “You’re right, I should have- I should have listened to you-“

“Precious boy,” Tony mutters, yanking a blanket from Clint to wrap over Peter’s shoulders as he’s buckled in. His touch is quick, but careful, his fingers dragging softly over Peter’s skin. “Never change.” And he kisses Peter’s forehead-

That’s when he notices the little trickle of blood, and his worry morphs into cold fury.

Peter tries not to smile. That’s Tony’s killing look. Norman’s going to die.

“You hurt, baby?” He hisses, hands curled into fists and Peter leans in to kiss him on the lips.

“I love you,” he says instead, and Tony kisses him back- distracted for a moment- before he goes to join Steve.

Peter can briefly hear Norman begging, but then the door is being shut and radio is being flipped on.

“Steve put some ice packs in the bag,” Clint says, “he thought you might need ‘em.”

Peter smiles, reaching for one and pressing it gingerly to his head. He thinks he might fall asleep. “Tell them I love them?” He asks drowsily, and Clint smiles warmly at him.

“Sure thing, kid. But trust me- they already know.”

[awaylaughing]

Pippa and Hamin for the ship meme!

let’s GOOOOO. Under a read more because I can talk about Ideas For Fucking Ever. The meme in question and if you read this and think “golly gee, I’d love to give you an opprotunity to chat more about othere people” I have a shiny new character page you could reference here.

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

This one I had to think about. Hamin probably makes a better werewolf, but Pippa makes a UNIQUELY terrible hunter so, pivoting ever so slightly maybe she’s more like a behind the scenes information broker type (Pippa, Collector and Keeper of Secrets is incredibly canon after all). She’d obviously have to start off allied with the hunters, to keep the tension with Hamin real and true. Hamin’s pack doesn’t have the WORST reputation possible, but they’re definitely not above suspicion. They retain their passion for ocean voyages, which strikes other people as odd because prejudice.

That said, you know who ALSO makes a great werewolf? Pippa’s mother and “aunt”, Roshan and Jessamine, so Pippa as part of a bamf all lady’s wolf pack who get tangled up with hunter shenanigans is also an excellent plot. Not least because Pippa would be a very pretty wolf, I dare say (maybe they’d actually be were-jackels, a la the Golden Jackel? A Consideration, given where I HC a modern AU Pippa would be from).

In this case I’d say the lady’s pack almost never maul people, except maybe domestic abusers and rapists, but who can blame them? So another pack moves in (it’s prob Jarrude’s lbr) and causes problems and Very Serious Hunter Hamin (ha) has to wade through the complicated world of lycanthrope politics to find The Truth. And of course falls in love with the nicest werewolf this side of whatever major geographical feature of your choice.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

Mermaid Pippa and “fisherman” Hamin, natch. Pippa’s not very ruthless canonically, but I can apply liberal use of Alternate Cultural POVs On Ethics and say Pippa only leaves her goaded people on rocks, she never drowns them! That’s very nice of her! And sometimes she pulls an Ariel and helps a bro out, which is probably related to how her and Hamin meet. Some options:

1. Pippa had previously saved Hamin’s life, so in turn, something happens and she gets caught, and he saves her life as repayment. Similar to Bog Standard Plot Below, she’s obviously too injured to return to sea so they’re forced to cohabitate. High jinks and romance ensue.

2. Bog standard mermaid washed ashore plot. Bathtub high jinks ensue. There’s a scene where someone catches Hamin carrying a bucket of raw fish into his house and he has to explain it away. Leala catches on in the first 20 mins. At some point, they’re forced to bring Pippa to dinner with Hamin’s dad and there is much nerves, only for Pippa to reveal she’s stranded many a gentlemen adventurer in her time and she picked up some epic etiquette knowledge along the way.

3. Hamin gets stranded somewhere and Pippa’s the only person around who can come visit. It starts with her bringing him fish. Requisite Second Act Breakup is when Pippa, conscience having formed in the last hour of run time, reveals a way off his small deserted island. Obviously, he sails off in a huff and they meet up again in the next 35 minutes, have the big damn kiss and idk how you turn this one into a true happy ending and not a sort of esoteric one but Hollywood and or an Indie Darling Director will manage.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

Witch Pippa, hands down the answer. She gets it from her grandmother (er, step-grandmother?). Does Hamin have an animal form? If so, does it align to Pippa Aesthetic and is he a snakey boi or, does he get to pick? What would Hamin pick? Seagull - the goose of the sea?

Other option is he’s always human and either case I’m betting Hamin’s not a traditional familiar. Rather, he needed to get out Faerie/Familiarland STAT and filched Pippa’s contract off a Traditional And Proper Familiar and got himself a ticket to human land away from whoever he pissed off.

High jinks ensue.

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

I had to think about this one because I mean let’s be very real here - neither Pippa, Quintessential Nice But Still Privileged Rich Girl or Hamin “cause problems for the staff on purpose” are shoe ins for having worked for customer service. That said, Hamin’s more likely to piss off his dad and be forced to get a job and like, have a real person job in general. So, Hamin’s barista job is his in-world Summit equivelent and he planned to quit the moment he paid off whatever damages he’s definitely paying off.

Except, Pippa comes in and orders only moderately complicated coffee orders and this isn’t a place that does the name thing so Hamin knows Nothing except she’s friendly and pretty and omg this one is perfect to throw in the OT3 because clearly the only reason he doesn’t just immediately ask Pippa for her name and number and also the next 20 years of her life pls and thanks is her hot boyfriend.

(But it’s okay, Pippa has two hands and so does Zarad u_u)

Otherwise she’d have to be someone who just comes to drive through bc idk why he’d hold off on asking since this is HAMIN we’re talking about.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

...either of these two in academia is an interesting prospect. Maybe he’s a kid who got into archeology because of Indiana Jones and, while there’s far fewer chase scenes and death traps, Hamin ended up with a PhD and a job and look, he’s as confused as you are about how this all happened. It’s alright though because the job does come with cute anthropology TAs who work in an allied and often cross referential field. Pippa’s less immediately enamoured with Hamin but warms up because he’s the only person who actually listens to her and doesn’t treat her like she’s a child just because she’s a short woman.

This one could be set in exciting locales for a bit of Indie Flavour but with more consent and less horrifying age gaps, and no breaking of international laws and if anyone gets squished by rocks it’s a horrifying rock slide scenario.

Alternatively, polisci professor Pippa is working alongside the marine biology department to work on smth enviro-politics and ocean protection. TA Hamin is Very Enthusiastic about helping her out. This one features a scene where people naturally assume Hamin’s the professor and he trolls the ever living shit out of them.

This one is set in conferences which is 10000% less sexy but also way more familiar.

Depends on the vibes u want. Either way, Lyon is there somewhere and he and Pippa are unlikely friends purely because 4′10″ Pippa and like, 6′5″ or whatever Lyon being friends is never not hilarious. He definitely disapproves of Hamin just in general but especially in a library setting.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

This is legit a Knight’s Tale AU, except instead of Jousting, we’ll say Hamin ends up taking Princess Pippa across the country as a sort of personal security situations and, as usual high jinks ensue. IDK who makes the best Chaucer stand in as a pal to help Hamin in his quest but he definitely needs the help. Pippa catches on like, super fast anyway because her interpersonal insight is boss af but she just goes with it because it’s amusing and he’s doing a fine job.

Another candidate for the OT3 bc Chaucer!Zarad is perfect, but so is the plot being that Hamin and Zarad had a thing aaages ago, now Pippa’s being carted off to marry prince Zarad and oh hey this is also nearly a Sinbad AU but with the proper Poly Ending in place

There is no AU where Pippa’s a the knight to Hamin’s prince, I’m sad to say. Her martial skills are about nil.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

HMMM. I think Early Childhood Specialist Hamin and Parent Pippa shake out best, mostly because at the end of the day I don’t think Pippa like...likes kids that much. She doesn’t dislike them but she’d never want a life devoted to spending all her time with them. Her own kids though, different story.

Evil instinct says dad is Clarmont, because I feel like Clarmont is really easy to kill off in incredibly tragic but heroic circumstances and Modern AU Pippa would totally be down for a Clarmont romance. Anyway, Pippa has an adorable little girl who thinks Mr. Hamin is the BEST teacher, he helped her dig up worms for her show and tell at recess mama!

Pippa and Hamin in this set up don’t actually meet for like, a solid three months so they both form skew-whiff images of the other and so they get a CLASSIC “oh no (s)he’s hot / THIS IS MR. HAMIN / THIS IS MS. X” moment. Adorable Little Girl is captain of this ship despite being like, 4 and Pippa and Hamin are just along for the ride.

High jinks ensue.

(alt bc I’m never not on my bullshit dad is Zarad, and not dead and they just never married bc Family Drama and OT3 babey)

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

Absolutely writer Hamin and editor Pippa. She inherited from someone who quit and she really shakes things up by like, having Expectations and shit and Hamin, who’s been not in a good place following a personal trauma, finds himself annoyed for all of two seconds before she shows up on his doorstep on the day after a due date because if he wants to play Pippa will Play. And oh no, she’s cute. Hamin is enraptured, Pippa just wants him to work at first. Romance blossoms lopsidedly but he charms her after some sort of deal is struck that includes her dragging him out of the house to buy food or just go for a walk or whatever.

Shenanigan ensue.

This one is pure fluff about the power of human connection, there is no second act drama they get to skip ahead AND collect their 20 dollars it’s great.

[randomoranges]

i’ve had this idea in mind since summer. it’s a combination of things. it continues the narrative of étienne visits ed and cal over spring 2020, it’s also a prize fic for @allbeendonebefore who is the only one in the friend circle to have completed the dictation challenge and wanted something with succulents and it’s also a reflection on long distance whatevers and how when they’re away it all feels fine bcs you get used to it, but when they’re back errthing feels so much bigger and when they leave again you’re crushed it’s over.

anyways.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Early June 2020

 Edward makes himself comfortable and swings an arm around Étienne’s shoulders. He likes the way Étienne curls up around him and furrows his face in his chest and lets out a content sigh. He likes how Étienne comes to him for these things – how he doesn’t hold back as much – how he’ll seek him out for hugs and cuddles when he wants them. He likes that they’ve grown closer around each other over the past few weeks and that some of their stilted attempts at normalcy have gained fluency.

 Shame it ends in the morning, really.

 But, Edward tries not to think about that.

 Instead, he focuses on the now – on the last few moments before it all ends.

 To be honest, Edward thought for sure that Étienne would stay a little longer, but he’s also not surprised that his boyfriend has decided to head back home. It’s summer, after all, and despite everything, Étienne still feels the pull and call to go back – to soak up the rays and recharge as much as he can before winter strolls in again with its harsh winds and long and dreary nights. He knows the good summer does to Étienne and knows how important it is for him to reconnect with his land.

 Still, it stings a little.

 It’s strange, he thinks, but after a few weeks of Étienne being back home, he gets used to it again. He falls into his own routine, picks up a new one with his boyfriend where they text and video chat every so often, but every time they see each other, Edward realises how much he misses him and how great it is to have him around. It’s as if his feelings and emotions are cranked to the max and time seems to slip through his fingers. And then, just as he’s getting used to having Étienne around, just as they start making plans and start developing a different type of routine, the trip is over and Étienne is yanked out of his reach.

 It’s the same thing tonight.

 He sees it with Étienne’s half-full suitcase.

 At least, this time, he’s had more than a few days hastily thrown together. It’s more than he can say about the state of the suitcase. Maybe, if he hides a few of Étienne’s possessions, Étienne will stay a little longer. It’s wishful thinking and it can’t hurt.

 “Hey, I can hear you thinking, what’s up?”

 Edward blinks and looks back down to gorgeous green eyes he’s already missing. He offers Étienne a small smile and bends his head to peck his lips. It’s a welcomed distraction and he goes willingly when Étienne pulls him down for something with a little more feeling and a little more heat. He wonders if he’s not the only one ruminating this departure that feels both sudden and planned and tries not to think too much about it even if it’s hard.

 “Thinking of nefarious ways I can keep you back here,” He admits with a chuckle. Étienne rolls his eyes at him, but it’s soft and so very fond. His boyfriend levels with him and rests his forehead against his own.

 “I’ll miss you too, Eddy,” Étienne says and Edward holds him a little closer than necessary and a little tighter than needed for more than a few seconds.

 He remembers how it started, a few days after Étienne’s birthday. He remembers sitting out on the back porch with Étienne, quietly staring at the chickens and the dog. It had been another quiet day; another quiet morning and it looked as though it would be nice and sunny. They hadn’t been saying much, enjoying each other’s company and the pleasant weather, when Étienne had spoken, nearly startling him.

 It had been a quiet sentence spoken to no one in particular, but there to be heard if anyone cared to. It seemed to be the other man’s new way of doing things – stating things softly as if addressing the blades of grass that grew in the gentle breeze of the wind and the caress of the sun. Étienne’s vigor and energy were still a thing of the past and Edward not only feared, but also wondered if he’d imagined them all along.

 Yet, Étienne had simply said that he thought it was time to go home and he was thinking of leaving by the end of the week.

 Edward had been – shocked.

 Edward is still shocked.

 They’d talked about it. Étienne had explained that for as much as he still didn’t feel one hundred percent and even though he was eternally grateful for Edward’s (and even Calvin’s) hospitality, he needed to be back home. He needed to be there for his people, for his sister – and for himself. He wished things could have been different, but at least, they had gotten this time out of it.

 So, Étienne had purchased his ticket and had quietly and slowly started packing.

 And now it’s their last night together.

 Edward feels like there’s so much he still wants to do and say to Étienne. He feels like he’s run out of time and the fact of the matter is that they both don’t know when’s the next time they’re going to see each other. He supposes that’s the real kicker – that there’s no real planned next visit – that they don’t know if they’ll be able to. They got this, but will they get more? He knows Étienne’s been thinking about it – about whether or not it’s wise to go home, not because of the caseload back home, but of potentially not being able to come back. But – there used to be a time when the only thing they had was letters. At least now, there’s technology to make the cold, lonely nights a little friendlier.

 It’s something.

 They’ll manage.

 They always do.

 They’ll find a way.

 “I have something for you,” Edward blurts as he disentangles himself from the cocoon of warmth. Étienne gives him a puzzled look and even Mercury raises her head to see what the commotion is all about. Edward excuses himself and leaves the room to retrieve the three items. He’d thought of the best time to give them, had figured they could do as birthday gifts, had decided against the idea and had gone back on it ever since, but – now seems like the best of times.

 He returns to the guestroom and lets himself get pulled back under the covers, wrapped around Étienne’s legs and arms, trapped in the best of ways. This time, Étienne sits up, curious as to what this is all about and Edward grows a little shy and quiet. These presents feel a little lame, now that he’s holding on to them and he hopes he hasn’t built up any hype that will be met with disappointment.

 Étienne brushes Edward’s worries away as he grabs the small bag out of his hands and eagerly opens it up. He pulls out a first box and sets the bag aside to open it up. The curious expression and smile on Étienne’s face vanish and Edward thinks he may have gone overboard with the gift, considering his boyfriend has grown silent.

 Étienne looks up at him, clutching the key and the key ring tightly in his hands and a myriad of different emotions play in Étienne’s eyes that Edward briefly reads.

 “I thought – you gave me yours back in February, I figured it would only be fair if – you could have your own – for real, this time – I want you to have your own key to my place – for you to use whenever you visit.” Edward remembers a time, what feels like ages ago, when he’d made a key for Étienne. When he’d purposely made one for him, even though at the time he – hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of others seeing him with Étienne – with his friend visiting – and he’d never told Étienne he could keep the key. Étienne had obviously only used it during his few and far between stays, but – it had hurt Edward when Étienne hadn’t kept the key or absconded with it, as though Étienne was pushing him away or shunning him, even though Edward had never specified. Now, however, he is being clear with his intentions. He wants Étienne to have a key. To feel that he could come here whenever. That he is welcomed. That this is a safe place for him. A port in a storm and such.

 He wonders if Étienne is aware of all of its significance, and he must, for Étienne’s eyes mist over for a moment and he grows serious as he brushes a finger over the grooves and ridges of the key.

 “It’s yours,” He reiterates. “I want you to have it and use it. You come here anytime you want – you’re welcome here. I want you here, okay? And you can come back whenever – I don’t care if you make it home, wake up the next day and realise you want to return. You do that. I don’t want you to second guess yourself and wonder if you need to check first. You can stay here even if I’m not here. This place – my home – it’s – I want you here. You’re part of it. I –” He tries not to get choked up on his words, but he stumbles halfway through and gets thrown off balance when Étienne near topples them both off the bed when he semi-launches himself at him and hugs him tightly and closely. Only Mercury seems disgruntled by the sudden shift, but she settles back down.

 “Thank you,” Étienne says with all the sincerity of the world and Edward watches as he clutches the key tightly in his hand. He then puts it back in the box and moves on to the next present.

 This one is wrapped in tissue paper and doesn’t weigh much, but – Edward has spent ages on it. Months, really, and has made his best to finish it in time.

 It’s a mask, Étienne finds out, black fabric with intricate needle and beadwork motifs on the front.

 “I know you’ve been making your own and have quite a few,” Edward starts, as if he wants to defend his going away presents, “But, I liked the idea behind this one...”

 “Did you make this?” Étienne asks to be sure as his fingers dance over the carefully placed stitches and beads that form the motifs of his flag – the thistle, the shamrock, the lily, the rose, and the yellow pine. It’s an ode to him – to some of his roots and either Edward spent time making this for him, or he commissioned someone for it.

 “I – yeah, I did,” He admits.

 Étienne is quiet as he looks at the intricate details, still carefully feeling the beads and the stitches under his gentle caress as though worshiping the artisanship that went into it. Edward had been inspired by a local native company that had launched its own sets of masks and figured he could give it a go. It had been tedious work, but he enjoyed it. At first, his intention had been to mail it to Étienne, but once Étienne had shown up on his doorstep, he figured he could gift it to him at some point. Working on it while Étienne wasn’t around had proven a little difficult, since he wanted to keep it a surprise, but he’d managed.

 “It’s beautiful,” He says, voice filled with awe. Edward’s cheeks pink at the comment, but he’s pleased. He worked really hard on the design and the mask and he’s proud of the result. Now, he’s glad Étienne likes it. “I’ll wear it tomorrow,” He ads and Edward’s insides do a funny loop at that. There’s something alluring about the thought that Étienne wants to wear the mask he made and will actually wear it.

 “You didn’t have to go through all the trouble, though,” He says as he puts the mask carefully back in the bag.

 Edward sighs. He’s heard Étienne tell him he didn’t have to go through all the trouble for many things over the past few weeks and he’s quite frankly tired of it. “It was no trouble. None of this was any trouble. Having you over was not a trouble. I did everything – I keep doing everything I do – because I enjoy it. Because I like doing things for you and because you’re worth my time, okay? Now please get it through that thick mass of curls of yours or so help me.”

 Étienne offers him a quiet smile in return and Edward thinks it’s all worth it just for those little quiet smiles.

 “What’re you gonna do if it doesn’t get through then?”

 Edward recognises the teasing edge hidden behind Étienne’s words and he rolls his eyes fondly. At least Étienne teases back now. At least he’s on the road back to his regular self. At least, Étienne feels safe being himself around him again. Less and less of that guarded glass personality. No more polite smiles and empty conversations. They’re back to something similar to what they’d had before, friendship wise anyways. They’re working on the rest, but Edward feels confident about this. If anything, this month and a half or so has sped up the process. Helped mend a few bridges along the way and such. He’s thankful for that, if nothing else.

 “I don’t know, I might just have to force it down, for starters.” He offers back.

 There’s a spark in those pretty green-brown eyes he loves so much and it’s lit up with with mischief. He likes this version of Étienne – likes the playful edge he has.

 “Yeah? How so?”

 Edward scoffs and leans over so that he can claim Étienne’s lips with his own. He thinks he’s going for a surprise attack, but Étienne had seen it coming and wraps his arms around him and pulls him in for something much deeper. Edward sighs against his boyfriend’s lips and changes the pace for something much softer but lingering.

 This, by far, has been the best thing about Étienne’s prolonged stay with him; the exchange of plush kisses that never seem to end or quench his burning desire for more. There are still decades worth of catching up to do, but now they have time to make up for all those lost opportunities.

 The gifts are momentarily forgotten and Edward silently thrills as Étienne wraps his legs around his body and manages to dip his hand underneath his shirt to caress warm skin he’s ever so fond of. They don’t do more than heavy kissing, at least, not now, but it doesn’t matter; Edward feels more connected with Étienne than he ever did before and he’s content to stay here with him, even if all they do is talk and curl-up tight around each other.

 “Did that help a bit?” Edward asks when they pull away, later, faces flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He thinks Étienne looks beautiful this way and should always look like this with his tousled curly hair and pretty pink lips.

 “A bit. Might need a few more lessons before I leave, though. It would be such a shame if I went back home and forgot all about it.”

 Edward pecks the corner of his lips as a response, “Of course; it would be a pleasure.” He ads for good measure.

 Étienne takes the bag again and pulls out the last of the presents. It’s heavier than the other two and a little bulkier. Edward warns him to be careful with it and Étienne wonders what could possibly be in the box. He opens it with gentle, careful hands and moves the tissue paper around, until he finds the smallest of clay pots holding what seems like the tiniest of little plants.

 The plant looks both foreign and similar and Edward remains silent to see if Étienne will come to some conclusion. He touches the delicate leaves, deep in thought and Edward rubs his shoulder.

 “I can hear you thinking,” He parrots back to Étienne. His boyfriend looks away from the plant and up to him and Edward sees the questions running in his eyes.

 “It’s a plant. I’m trying to figure out why and I’m also – it looks familiar. But – I know it can’t and I’m probably misremembering something.”

 Edward beams and is relieved that Étienne more or less figured it out.

 “Indulge me, why does it look familiar?” He presses on and Étienne goes quiet again, looks at Mercury who is back to snoozing at the foot of the bed for now and then back up at Edward. His cheeks are a little pink and he looks a little uncertain.

 “I’m probably wrong. And – it’s fine if it’s not that. But – my sister gave me a succulent, ages ago. You came over once and a leaf snapped off. I was going to throw it out, but you wanted to keep it. Said you’d read something about how you can start a new plant with the leaf. Asked if you could keep it to try it out. I said to knock yourself out. I – we – shortly after that we – didn’t see each other much and neither of us brought up the leaf or the plant. Mine died, eventually. Either gave it too much water or forgot to water it once too many times. It – looks like that plant. Sort of. But – it can’t be.” He pauses, “Right?”

 Edward grins and presses a kiss to the top of his head. God, but he loves this man a stupid amount. “What if I told you that I got that leaf to develop into a plant and that I still have it?”

 Étienne blinks, “Impossible.”

 “It’s in the living room. You’ve seen it. Many times.”

 Étienne looks completely baffled and Edward can’t help but laugh. He has indeed seen the plant. Knows exactly which one Edward is referring to, but Étienne had never thought it was the same. Hadn’t even given it much thought. “This just goes to show you that there’s always hope – somehow. Even if you think something is over – that it’s gone for good – sometimes, things have a way of coming back – stronger than before.”

 “Who the hell gave you this much insight and what have you done with Edward Murphy?” Étienne says as a deflection from his thoughts that keep crashing in his mind, as he tries to make sense of all of this.

 Edward laughs, deep and rich and Étienne cracks a smile at that, “I’m just saying, it’s a good perspective to keep in mind.”

 Étienne nods and settles back against him, cradling the plant in his hands, “So, this is a cutting of it?”

 “An offset of it, yeah. I cut off a few of them in early April and then with you coming over and everything else, I thought it would be a nice gift.”

 Étienne examines the plant for a moment longer, before he carefully puts it back in the box and then the bag. “It is – thank you; I promise I’ll try my best to look after it.”

 “That’s all anyone ever asks – to do their best.”

 --

 When Edward wakes up the following morning, there’s already pleasant sunshine streaming through the curtains and he feels as though the weather is mocking him. He obviously knows that Étienne wouldn’t spend the rest of his life here in Edmonton with him, but – it would have been nice to have more time. He tells himself to be grateful for what he got and that’s how he starts the day.

 Breakfast is a quiet affair even if Calvin tries to liven it with his usual jokes and trivial talk. Normally, he welcomes the distraction, but this morning it feels out of place and Calvin must get it, for he stops as well and keeps to himself.

 Étienne excuses himself after he clears his dish and returns to the guestroom to finish packing before the drive to the airport. Calvin volunteers to take Mercury for a quick walk and Edward secretly wonders if Calvin isn’t giving him some space with Étienne before it’s time for him to go. Regardless, he’s happy for the diversion and thus finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed as Étienne throws in the last of his things, while making sure he isn’t leaving anything behind.

 “You’ll just have to come back and get them,” Edward says and he wants it to sound light and funny, but it comes out a little heavy instead. He’ll miss the bugger. Miss having him around and stealing hugs and kisses from him. Miss the late night talks and just being able to share the same space without rush.

 “Or, I can just drop by unannounced and crash. I have a key now, Murphy and I intent to use it.” To prove it, Étienne fishes out his own set of keys from the front pocket of his backpack and there, with Étienne’s set of house keys, Edward spots the keychain and key he had given Étienne the night before. The idea that the keys will be together – that the key to his place will be so readily accessible makes his heart flip this way and that.

 “You better; I would be extremely disappointed if you didn’t.”

 Étienne puts the keys back in the bag and then moves across the room to tackle Edward into a tight hug. Edward is only a little surprised and holds him close for a good long while.

 “Thank you, for absolutely everything,” Étienne tells him with all the sincerity of the world when they pull away slightly. “I promise I will call and do my best not to fall off the face of the earth.”

 “If you don’t, I swear I’ll find a way to track you down.” It might be a joke, but there is also truth behind the words. Edward will worry. It’s in his nature and he also genuinely wants his boyfriend to be all right. Not to spiral out of control and such. He hopes he won’t. He fears he will. Not because he doesn’t believe in Étienne, but because he knows how Étienne can get, despite his best intentions and the last thing he wants is for Étienne to feel as though he’s stuck in a situation he can’t get out of. Scared he’ll do something rash and irreversible. Scared Étienne won’t reach out to him and that he won’t be able to help.

 “Hey,” Étienne says and it brings him out of his own mental nightmare. Étienne reaches out for him and cards his fingers through his hair. Edward leans into the contact and lets out a deep breath. “I was going to take a shower,” He pauses for a moment and then offers him a kind smile, “Wanna join?”

 Edward chuckles, but nods and then gets up from the bed and follows Étienne to the washroom.

 --

 When they get to the airport and unload the car of Étienne’s luggage, the three of them hover by the truck, not really wanting to make it to the door of the airport, knowing that once they get there, this will truly be the end of this venture. It was agreed upon that Calvin would wait in the car, what with the new restrictions and not really knowing if “such a crowd” would be accepted. This way, at least, they can go through with the proper goodbyes without having to wear their masks or risk getting whisked away.

 “Y’know – if things quiet down some and we’re allowed to have fun again, you can come visit me this summer.” It’s a nice thought to have – something to look forward to, maybe and even if it doesn’t happen, it’s nice to know that Étienne wants him over and that he hasn’t grown tired of him after spending over a month and a half in his presence. “And – you’re invited too, Calvin – you’re both welcomed to my place any time, yeah?”

 He sounds a little unsure of himself, as if afraid he’s offering too much too soon but wanting to anyways and Edward’s heart swells. He’s ever so thankful that both Calvin and Étienne are trying. That they haven’t asked him to chose between one or the other and that they’re doing their best. He’d honestly feared at some point that it wouldn’t work out – that Calvin wouldn’t get it or that Étienne wouldn’t be able to get along with Calvin, but maybe even this little has helped the other two, in its own way. He can’t say that Calvin and Étienne have reached best friend status, but they’re slowly getting to know one another and it’s already a good enough start. With time, he hopes, they’ll get closer, but for now, he’s glad that the two men he loves most have decided that the best course of action is not to shun him for the way he feels about them both.

 “Yeah – I’d like that – it would be great to visit,” Calvin says, a little surprised by the invitation, but Edward can tell that he’s touched by it and would really like to visit as well.

 “Guess I’m off now, thanks again for everything,” Étienne reiterates for what feels like the millionth time that day. He steps up to Calvin first and Edward watches as Calvin goes for a handshake, but then Étienne swats his hand away and instead pulls him down for a hug. Calvin’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he quickly recovers and wraps his arms around Étienne’s waist.

 “Better take care of him, McCall. I know how to find you.” Étienne whispers to Calvin and Calvin knows that it’s a threat to be taken seriously.

 “Promise I will. You look after yourself as well – he needs you in his life too.”

 They part after that and after Calvin says goodbye to Mercury, Edward and Étienne, along with Mercury, head off towards the departures entrance. Étienne reaches out for his hand a few steps in and if they hold on to one another’s hands a little tighter than necessary, they don’t comment on it.

 “Text me when you get in?” Edward offers as a final platitude, trying to come up with something clever to say.

 “Text me whenever you think of me?” Étienne counters and Edward smiles and pulls him in for what might be the last hug for a long while.

 “Sure you can handle that many messages from me?”

 “From you, always.”

 Edward is, once more, taken aback – in all the good ways, by Étienne’s words and their sincerity. He settles instead for a caress to Étienne’s face and before his emotions get the best of him, he kneels in front of Mercury to say goodbye to her as well.

 “You take good care of him,” He tells her and whether or not Mercury understands, she acknowledges his recommendation by licking his face.

 “Come on, off with you, before you miss your flight.” He warns Étienne once he’s standing again.

 “I’m sure you wouldn’t object to that.”

 “I wouldn’t, but I know you really want to go home and – maybe the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll come back.”

 Étienne gives his hand a tight squeeze and finally, after a last goodbye, he heads towards security check.

 Edward watches them both go for a moment longer and waves to Étienne one last time, before he heads back towards the truck. He wonders if his heart will ever not feel this heavy when he’s at an airport with Étienne, but by the time he gets to the truck, he laughs when he finds a message on his phone from Étienne.

 “I know I’ve said it a million times, but really, thanks for everything. And not just this time. I’m really lucky to have you in my life. Miss you already and talk soon. I love you <3”

 His heart feels ever so full as he reads and re-reads the message and, as he gets into the truck, it gives him hope that really, things will end up working out.

 FIN

[bluejaybabbles-archive]

IS IT TOO GAY OF ME TO ASK FOR ALL THREE MIDWEST MONSTERS WIP CHARACTESR FOR THE SOFT MEME... i just love them DEARLY

IT IS EXACTLY THE RIGHT AMOUNT  OF GAY TO ASK FOR ALL THREE OF THEM MAX 

Putting this under a cut bc it got a bit lengthy!

Let’s go in alphabetical order! First up, Antonia Figueroa!

what they smell like

I haven’t thought about this much, but definitely something soft...like fresh laundry, or something floral! She tries to seem aloof and standoffish, but she’s really just. So soft, if you gain her trust, so I think her scent would reflect that! 

what their favorite smells in the world are

Vanilla!! She has far too many vanilla candles. She also loves the smell of the ocean breeze. The last time she went to Puerto Rico, she used her magic to bottle the ocean breeze, and when she’s stressed, she opens the bottle and just sits in the scent for a while.

what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in

Big t-shirts! She has a collection of graphic tees just for sleeping in. A lot of them have the Pepsi logo on them ajsdbsdufh and some of them are just like. You know those tacky shirts with the animals printed on them?? These ones:

[id: a grey t-shirt with images of a bald eagle, a mountain lion, a wolf, and a moose on it.]

Yeah.

my favorite ship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

okay this one’s gonna be a little hard bc Toni, Javi, and Avery are all in a polyamorous triad so OBVIOUSLY I ship them all together but also! I definitely ship Antonia with Triss, a monster hunter from the Summer Court!! I can’t decide if it’s a casual thing or if Antonia is just also in a serious relationship with Triss, but Triss is over at Toni’s place all the time. Triss takes a big interest in Toni’s witchcraft and asks lots of questions, and she definitely curls up on her couch and reads spell books while Toni’s mixing potions or smth!

my favorite friendship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

Antonia and Javi!! Like yeah they’re partners but a) they don’t start off as partners, and b) YOU SHOULD BE FRIENDS WITH YOUR PARTNERS!! They’re the kind of friends that bounce snarky fake-insults off each other and then just end up cuddling on the floor and playing with each other’s hair. They’d also definitely bond over their experiences in being Puerto Rican out in the Land of Corn and Ghosts and Corn Ghosts

a song that reminds me of them

Wild Roses by Of Monsters and Men! Specifically this part Gets Me:

Down by the creek, I couldn’t sleep, so I followed a feelin’

Sounds like the vines, they are breathing

(Oh it sounds like, it sounds like, it sounds like, it sounds, oh)

And I’ve seen the way the seasons change when I just give it time

But I feel out of my mind all the time

In the night I am wild-eyed, and you got me now

what animal i think they would be if they were an animal

She would ABSOLUTELY be a cat. 100% a grumpy cat who reveals her True Soft Nature around maybe one or two people. She says “mother I crave violence” but what she really craves is a good snuggle session

what position they sleep in

She starts off on her back, but she’s a restless sleeper, so she usually ends up on her side by the end of the night! She definitely starfishes, though, which becomes a little bit of a problem when she, Javi, and Avery start sleeping in the same bed aifhsidgh

their favorite drink

PEPSI!! She’s specifically a big fan of wild cherry pepsi, but regular pepsi also works. At any given time she’s probably wearing some sort of pepsi memorabilia. 

a gift i would give them if i could

Spell ingredients! Dried plants from my yard! A ticket to PR! also this:

[id: a white shirt with the word Pepsi across the chest in blue. Beneath the word Pepsi is the Pepsi logo, a red, white, and blue circle. The shirt also has several Pepsi logos down the sleeves.]

Next up we have Avery!

what they smell like

Avery smells earthy and like. Fresh?? Crisp?? At the same time?? Kind of like a winter morning in the woods! Y’know that smell of “things are still alive here, the cold is just keeping them dormant”? That!!

what their favorite smells in the world are

His senses were enhanced during his time in the Court of the Moon, so he has some OPINIONS about smells ajfhsdiufhud that said! He LOVES fruity smells, specifically citrus scents! He’s also a big fan of the smell of fresh baked goods, whether that be bread or cookies or brownies!

what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in

So Avery sleeps nude and keeps clothes next to the bed so he can put them on really quick if he needs to, HOWEVER! Javi eventually compiles a collection of lounge wear for him! (”Come on, you can’t just be in going-out clothes and armor all the time! Isn’t that uncomfortable?” “If I get uncomfortable I just get naked.” “I’m going out and buying you clothes right now.”) It’s honestly wild to see someone who wears mostly blacks and greys standing around his house in baby blue pajama pants with raccoons on them, or in a sheer green sleep shirt that says “Sunday is for snuggling”

my favorite ship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

Okay so here I’m gonna focus on him and Antonia because holy WOW they’re so sweet, like!! Antonia feels like she can be herself around him, which is so rare. She’s his main supplier for spells and things since she knows the way he works, but also he says he goes to her because she “casts her spells/brews her potions with love” and that “makes them all the more effective.” He definitely comes to her place if a hunt goes wrong and she does the whole “patches you up while affectionately calling you an idiot” thing

my favorite friendship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

Avery and Triss!! Triss is the first person Avery really opened up to after being released from the Court of the Moon. Even though the Celestial Courts are...different from the others, he felt that another monster hunter would be the one to understand him most. She helps him open up to more people, and shows him the beauty of the world. I imagine she gathers bouquets of wildflowers and “weeds” and brings them to him sometimes!!

a song that reminds me of them

Some Kind of Disaster by All Time Low! Especially these parts:

I woke up from a never-ending dream

I shut my eyes at 17

I lost every moment in between

I felt the sun rise up and swallow me, yeah

and

I crashed down from a high that felt so real

I never knew how much it would hurt to feel

You gotta hurt sometimes to learn to heal

You gotta get back up and learn to deal, yeah

AND

And it’s all my fault that I’m still the one you want

So what are you after?

Some kind of disaster (Some kind of disaster)

Fuck I gotta. I gotta go listen to this song now. I’m having Feelings

what animal i think they would be if they were an animal

Y’know, I was gonna be tacky and say a wolf, but now that I’m thinking about it...he’d be a coyote. Adaptable, can be a loner or in a pack, tend to be crepuscular when around humans, some people are very adamant about how they should be shot on sight.....

what position they sleep in

If he’s sleeping alone, he’ll sleep on his side, but if he’s sleeping with other people, he sleeps on his back so they can curl up on his chest!

their favorite drink

Water. Like, actually, he really loves ice water. Sometimes he’ll get frisky and drink *gasp* flavored water!

a gift i would give them if i could

A weighted blanket! Like, I know you have to be able to jump right up and get to work if duty calls or whatever, but can you please get one night of deep sleep?? And a hug. Someone hug this man

Last but CERTAINLY not least, Javi Justiniano! 

what they smell like

Fresh rain on dirt, crushed rosemary, and fresh cut wood! 

what their favorite smells in the world are

They absolutely ADORE the smell of peppermint! They’re also a big fan of pumpkin spice candles. It really is a shame they love seasonal scents so much sdifuhdiu I imagine they try to stock up as much as they can to last them through the year

what pajamas they wear/what they wear to sleep in

Okay so Javi is EXTREMELY tacky and will wear like. A sheer nightgown and silly patterned pants as pajamas. So a combination like this:

[id: a pale person with long, dark hair wearing a sheer and lacy white nightgown]

[id: a pair of black pajama pants with a red waistband and a red pocket. The pants are decorated with images of various red lobsters and the words “Pinch Me...I’m Dreaming”]

If anyone asks them about it they just shrug and say “I’m nonbinary, it’s allowed”

my favorite ship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

Here, I’m gonna talk about Javi and Avery because Holy Shit I Love Them. Javi is EXTREMELY chaotic and Avery rolls his eyes about it but secretly adores everything about them. Like. Javi canonically drunk calls Avery and asks him to carry them to bed because they don’t think they can make it up the stairs and Avery actually does it. And when Avery’s about to leave, Javi asks him to stay until they fall asleep, and he stays until morning, and hold on I gotta sit down--

my favorite friendship (if applicable) and a cute hc about them

So I’ve already talked about how Javi and Toni’s friendship is AMAZING but I wanna give a shout out to Javi’s as of yet unnamed roommates! Like, they have to deal with the random monsters that Javi attracts and at this point they’re pretty unfazed by them. They walk into the kitchen and see a weird floating eyeball with wings or some shit and Javi’s like “I’m sorry it was there when I woke up” and they go “It happens. Does it like peaches bc ours are about to go bad” 

a song that reminds me of them

3am by Halsey! Specifically this part:

My self-preservation and all of my reservations

Are sittin’ and contemplating what to do with me, do with me

Think I took it way too far

And I’m stumblin’ drunk, getting in a car

My insecurities are hurtin’ me

Someone please come and flirt with me

I really need a mirror that’ll come along and tell me that I’m fine

I do it every time

I keep on hanging on the line, ignoring every warning sign

Come on and make me feel alright again

Baby. Has some abandonment issues. It’s probably fine.

what animal i think they would be if they were an animal

DEFINITELY a dog. Like, a big, sweet, clingy dog whose adoption profile labels them as “Thinks they’re a lap dog, so they need to be taught not to fall asleep on top of you. Unless that’s something you want!” 

what position they sleep in

On their tummy or their side! They don’t like going to sleep alone, so they have a couple people-sized stuffed animals to snuggle in bed. When Antonia, Javi, and Avery are all asleep in the same bed, Javi’s in the middle, curled up on Avery’s chest, and Toni is spooning Javi. It’s so good

their favorite drink

An iced mocha with peppermint syrup and LOTS of whipped cream! Most drinks are honestly just a vessel for whipped cream for them

a gift i would give them if i could

A big house with a nice backyard, and also a big dog to snuggle when they have to go to sleep alone! I’m totally not projecting! 

THANK YOU AGAIN MAX, this was a lot of fun and I’m even more excited to write about these characters now!! 

[okaybutlikeimagine]

consider this: Steve couldnt get to college so he went to police academy instead, working with Hopper is a part of his internship and the more time they spend together the closer they become, at first Billy is happy that they get along but then Hop can't seem to shut up about Steve and his achievements so Billy starts getting jealous and worried that he will never be able to make Jim proud like this

Ohmydearrr!!! Okay i’ve seen a few things talking about Steve and/or Billy joining the police force in Hawkins and i just? Love it. I think it’s so good. And This is so good bc we know Bratty Billy = Jealous Billy.

So Steve, being the lovely little dummy that he is, is unable to get into college. I love him dearly, i think we all do, but also I don’t think college is even right for the boy. It’s a totally viable option to just Not go to college. That’s 100% fine and I think that Steve was very gently told that by people like Joyce and Jonathan and Nancy and Billy (who may not have been as gentle and might have been a bit more like: College doesn’t deserve you! Fuck college, you can still do whatever you want without college, goddamnit!!)

And when Hop hears that Steve’s been struggling with this, he puts a large, comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder and says: “y’know… we’ve been thinking about getting some more officers…”

So Steve starts his internship!! And lemme tell you, Hop is tough on him at the beginning. And the other officers + Flo watch him really put Steve through the paces and they’re like: “Hop. Give the boy some slack, this job is mostly about getting cats from trees and catching kids who kick pumpkins in on Halloween.”

But Hop is 1. Paranoid about more government monster shit happening

And 2. Kinda having fun messing around w/ his son’s boyfriend. Just to get him a little scared, give him a little reminder that “Hey, I’m big and tough and can crush you in a second, so be wary.”

But after about a week or two of Hop putting Steve through the paces, Steve being tired as all hell just about 24/7, and Billy bitching at Hop about how “You’re trying to kill my boyfriend, huh? Quit working him so hard, he’s tired as hell every day because of you!”

Well… the Officers think it’s time to give Steve a little break.

So they invite him out to Guys Night. Which is just heading to a bar and getting just a little buzzed. And yeah, Steve isn’t 21 yet, but Hop has known the owner of the bar for decades now and they know he won’t card Steve. Plus… it’s the police that are bringing the boy in and letting him drink. So like… who’s gonna get called on him, y’know??

So Steve is strung tight, sitting uncomfortably as all the guys laze around and chat, Officer Callahan telling him how he trained under Hop when he was working on being an Officer and “let me tell you, the guy is a brute. He can be such a dick.”

“I’m right here, you idiot.”

“Yeah, but you like me now.”

“I can dislike you real quick if you keep talking.” Hop says over his glass of whiskey.

And Steve relaxes over time. Laughs with the guys like they’re his friends and they kinda do become his friends?? Officer Powell talks to him about the craziest things he’s seen on the job. Callahan is giving Steve tips on what to do with cats stuck in trees if you’re allergic. (Steve isn’t, but he listens to the advice anyway bc he’d feel rude not to). Hop hits Steve on the back and laughs big rolling laughs and Steve feels welcome.

Hop gets a lot easier on Steve as time goes on. Bc see, Hop never doubted Steve. He never thought the boy didn’t have it in him bc he’s seen the boy fight off scary as fuck monsters. And he still wishes he didn’t have to but… if anyone has what it takes to be a police officer in this fucked up town, it’s Steve. Plus it’ll be nice to have another person on the force who knows about all of the shit that’s really going on around here.

And after about a month, Hop is talking about Steve near constantly. He’s always talking about how good he did handling the Mr. Wilson today or how he knew just how to break up that fight between these two boys or how he’s gotten so good at writing out parking tickets that he doesn’t even need Hop anymore.

And some of the smallest, dumbest things make Hop beam and Billy watches it with growing pride in his chest bc Yup. That’s my boyfriend. I always knew he was good, fuck anyone who ever doubted him.

Except... 

He’ll ask Steve out and Steve will respond with: “Oh, you know I’d love to but… It’s Guys Night tonight.”

“Guys night?”

“Yeah, me and the other officers are going down to the bar. I’ve told you about it right? Anyway, they’re probably waiting on me so I’ve gotta go, bye babe!”

And the line goes dead.

And Billy’s livid.

Bc Steve and Hop are so buddy buddy now. Steve is always talking about how cool Hop is and how he shows him all of this different stuff and where the best donuts are sold and the different types of fucking paper airplanes you can make out of empty parking tickets and “Goddamnit do you guys every do your fucking jobs??”

And Hop is always gushing about Steve, even if it’s something stupid like knowing all the lyrics to some stupid Foghat song or how good he is at cleaning the cars or how respectful he is to old Mrs. James and Billy is just livid.

Because Billy feels like he could do anything, he could sprout wings and fly to the fucking sun and Hop would still be mooning over Steve being a “good egg” or some shit and he’s had enough. From what Billy has heard, Steve is barely doing anything and already Hop is praising him high and low.

So one day, when Hop is about to bring up going out on patrol with Steve again, Billy snaps.

“Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve! I get it! Steve is the best!”

Hop is shocked, watching Billy with wide eyes as he goes on.

“You should have just adopted him instead! He’s got a rough home life too, y’know?? He’s always alone, his parents barely talk to him, why didn’t you adopt him, huh? I’m surprised you don’t have pictures of him in your fucking wallet!”

Hop is blinking hard. “Billy, I-”

There’s a knock at the door. Billy waves Hop off as he goes to stand to get it.

“I’ve got it.” Billy growls, swinging the door open to find his boyfriend, smiling wide.”

“Hey, I-!”

“Oh, your buddy is here!” Billy spits to Hop, before storming out of the cabin.

Hop gives Steve a confused look before Steve follows his boyfriend outside.

“Billy, what’s up?”

“Why don’t you go talk to your partner? You guys are such good friends, no need to hang out with me anymore.”

Steve reaches out to stop Billy, holding him back as best he can. “Babe, what are you talking about?”

“All you ever talk about is Hop and all Hop ever talks about is you and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know how many times you’ve blown me off for Guy’s Night?”

Steve blinks. “I-”

“Seven. Seven times. It’s shit, Harrington. I’m so fucking sick of this.”

“I didn’t know-”

“Yeah, because no one fucking talks to me anymore.”

Steve wraps Billy up in a hug, kissing his cheek and down his jaw and onto his neck.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it.” Steve coos, holding the squirming Billy tight. “I’ve just… I’ve been so excited. I found something I can do without having to go to college. I really like it. I should be sharing it with you though.”

“Yeah, well… whatever. I’m glad you’re fitting in and everything. Just… quit telling me how cool my dad is. It’s weird.” Billy says, squirming still but Steve isn’t letting go, still attached to Billy’s neck and chuckling against it.

“Alright, I’ll stop. I promise.”

“Thanks.” Billy mumbles against Steve’s lips before kissing him soundly.

Just then the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from the doorway, and both boys look to find Hop with his arms crossed.

“Hi Chief!” Steve says with a smile, but Billy is untangling himself from Steve to go confront Hop.

“You keep making sure you’re keeping my boyfriend safe! I don’t trust anyone around here. There has to be some maniacs in a small town like this.”

Hop rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah.” He says, brushing Billy off before looking him seriously in the eye. “You know I’m proud of you for everything you do, right?”

Billy feels it in his chest, the warmth that rises up when Hop talks to him like he really is his son.

“Oh, sure. Would you be just as proud of me if I blew a bubble the size of my head like Steve apparently can?”

Hop smirks. “Yeah, I would, because your head is a lot bigger than Steve’s is.”

Billy shoves past Hop to get into the cabin, muttering a fakely bitter “I hate you.” as Hop laughs and walks off the porch.

But now he’s standing in the doorway and waving goodbye to them as they head off to work, happy to see his boyfriend so happy and to see his boyfriend and his dad get along and wow things just feel so nice.

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: “what do you have? “ I have a kNIFE” “NO”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au,  fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17) (18) 

L: I May Have Lost Roman

V: nice

P: not nice :)

V: i feel vaguely threatened

Rem:@L how the fuck did you manage that Rem: nvm i know how just give me details

L:I don’t know ? One second we were at check out L: Next minute he was Gone and Nieve is looking suspicious

L:Hold on lemme ask Dmitri

V: why is he there

L: I mean he’s actually pretty chill L: But he dropped Roman off and Nieve got attached L:I’m...not sure if she’s planning on letting him go?

V:logan, my friend, my buddy, V:the only person in this chat with basic reading comprehension

Rem: that’s pretty fair

P: it really is tbh

V: Send. Pictures.

L: Okay L: Slight Issue

V: you lost the snake too

L: I lost Dmitri too and Nieve is not spilling

Rem: oh they’re defeinately fucking

L:...Where? The bathroom?

Rem: Don’t knock it till you try it ;)

V: not to be that guy but im vetoing this discussion V: cause thats a Yikes even for you Remy

L: Alright time to find them

Rem: check ;))) the;))) bathrooms ;;))))

L: Remy.

Rem: alrighlright too far ill stop

L: Thank you.

V: keep me updated V: i only have silence and physics homework as company

L:Huh L:Found them

L: Roman….found a katanna…

V: im sorry WHAT V: Why The Fuck Does He Have A Sword

Rem: drop the location of that store man

L: 1) It’s a Katanna L: 2)I will certainly Not. L: 3) He’s trying to convince Dmitri why he should have it

L…..and Dmitri looks more amused then concerned

V: if I can't have a tarantula he sure as hell cant have a sword

L:I told him it was probably fake/ poorly made and that he should take the time to invest the proper skill in money in a real one

V: goddamit logan you cant logic roman.

L: It worked. He put it back. L: So I say I can do what I want with roman

Rem: some spicy takes from the chats only brain cell ;)

---

“So you’re turning eighteen, in a few months. ” His aunt said, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin. She still managed to hold an air of prestige despite getting utterly shitfaced the night before. Her appointments have been going well.

Dmitri looked up, masking his surprise and holding his tongue.

Dr. Montag looked over, quieting the running water and placing the dish was he was cleaning down, “Really?” he said, brushing his hands, “You got any plans?” he asked, Dmitri.

“Oh we usually do something small,” His aunt interjected, “But seeing as he’s my father’s favorite grandchild,” Only grandchild, “He’s is flying from Paris to join us. And he was never a man of modesty so I’ve been thinking about doing something special for the occasion.”

Oh.

Dmitri fought the smile creeping on his face, ducking his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that she remembered after all if his grandfather was visiting. It’s how he got his phone, laptop, his car.

It’s probably why she puts up with him, to begin with. Cause it wasn’t guilt.

“--We should get your hair cut,” She continued, and Dmitri snapped out of his thoughts, “Maybe invite Diana--he’d like her,” she murmured.

“Diana and I a-” He closed his mouth, and his aunt’s eyes shot over.

“You broke up?” She narrowed her eyes, examining her nails, “Huh, makes sense seeing as...” she gestured at him vaguely, “So who have you been sneaking around with?”

“I’m not sneaking around with anyone,” Dmitri said, meeting her gaze. And technically he was right, it’s not sneaking if she just hasn’t been asking. And he’s given up on telling.

Dr. Montag’s eyebrows knitted together confused,” Well that isn’t true,”

Dmitri’s eyes went wide, stomach sinking.

His Aunt’s grin spread, “Oh really?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck--

“He’s been helping me out, hon,” Dr. Montag set down a glass of water and pills beside her plate, “You’ve been so stressed lately,” he looked guilty and produced some tickets, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Her face softened and like that the tension left the room. Those two got to linger in whatever lovey-dovey spell had taken hold of them in the last few months, but Dmitri was still on edge.

She still kept him on edge, but he could get her back. Even the playing field. Anytime he could leave this—Anytime he could flip this switch and put her on edge and make her—

He stopped eating, setting his plate aside.

He felt sick.

---

R:helllloooo R:anyone up R: sigh R: allll by mySELLLLF

L: Roman?

R: the one and lonely yes hello human contact???

L: Are you alright? It’s 3 am why are you still awake?

R: why are YOU up mm????

L: My parents have newborn twins. What’s your excuse?

R: well fuck got me there

R: i was texting dee but he was rlly tired and i stILL can’t sleep

L: Any particular reason?

R: u m

L: Private chat?

R: please

- [TheTruthAboutTheMoon]

TheWalkingMouth: Okay shoot

Cowboy:it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: I’ll tell you if it's stupid or not just say it

Cowboy: i just….like Cowboy: it's all kinda….hitting me a ll at once and i Really don’t like thinking about it but i cant bottle shit up either like you bastards so i feel like the human equivelent og a washing machine with too much laundry in it

TheWalkingMouth: Then don’t? TheWalkingMouth: Even if it's too ‘stupid’ for me I’m sure Dmitri wouldn’t mind

Cowboy: yeah but i feel like im going to say something shitty to him i Cowboy: like we should talk about it Cowboy: and i will Cowboy: but not now--later when it's not too stressful for either of us

TheWalkingMouth: Why would you say something shitty?

Cowboy: idk id jst get frustrated trying to explain it Cowboy: like hes smart as hell and probbaly get it without me saying anything but like Cowboy: I have neither the patience nor articulation right now to explain like a civil person and he doesnt need me being shitty about it

Cowboy:like,,,,,for example,,,,, if he fucks up in school, he’ll get recommended a tutor and teachers would assume hes doing his best and hes such a sweet and quiet boy

Cowboy: like he is sweet!!but hes a little shit too!! And gets away with it!!! Half those pranks he pulled on virgil, as Iconic as they were he never got in trouble for them!!!

Cowboy: when i fuck up i

Cowboy: god it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: Might not get a second chance? Yeah I get it.

TheWalkingMouth:Remember when I first transferred here? None of the teachers would take me seriously bc of my accent and if they did, they were afraid of me. I could repeat something another kid said word for word and still be told I had an attitude.

Cowboy: god i remembered that Cowboy: you answered his yes or no questions in a fuckin montone, quiet ass voice and he legit called in the office cause he got scared of a goddamn freshman

Cowboy: But ye when i fuck up Cowboy: im suddenly the lazy ass brown kid who should spend less time corrupting youth with my feminine hips and curls Cowboy: like it's not like a lot of them say it outright but it feels like if im not perfect im fufilling all the stereotypes

TheWalkingMouth: Ah okay, rant away

Cowboy: OK like like like im not like virgil right?? in a lot of ways and it fuckin shows

Cowboy: he’s been planning on going into engineering since sixth grade meanwhile i only got my shit together in highschool

Cowboy: and like now that im here/???what now??? My mother expects me to have my shit together meanwhile im over here freaking the fuck out over whether not it's worth it to even try Cowboy: like yes mother i want to go to an art/or librel arts school that may or may not accept me that we may or may not afford to find a career in who the hell knows because if i have to sit in a healthcare class or a applied mathmatics class like you did i miight actually shank the professor????

Cowboy: that i dread the thought of not trying to explore my options outside of this fucking state but i dread the thought of going bc i cant stand the thought of being away from home but i cant fucking find a reason to stay cause everyone i love is leaving or planning their own life anyway???

Cowboy: like remys gunna fuck off to who knows where regardless of whether or not he has a plans or money, pattons gunna take care of his grandmother whereever the fuck a canada ,moms moving in with tia, virgils already mentally flipping me off ready to fuck nasa , and i only fucking hope dmitri even getss the chance to choose where he goes but hes g o n e and i die from yearning behind a screen like the gay victorian i am , and you….i actually dont know

TheWalkingMouth: Teaching for either biology or physics

Cowboy: huh it fits but what about chemistry??

TheWalkingMouth: Fuck chemistry.

Cowboy: oh thank god we’re on the same page

TheWalkingMouth: Anyway, I assume you’re more worried about whether you should apply rather then if you could get in?

Cowboy: i think so

TheWalkingMouth: Well if my opinion means anything to you

Cowboy: more than you’re assuming but yeah continue

TheWalkinMouth: Wait

Cowboy: nothing nothing continue

TheWalkingMouth: Okay-- I think you should go for it but you don’t need to dive head first into it and commit to everything 100% like virgil did.

TheWalkingMouth: You’re allowed to keep your options open, to have backup plans for back up plans

TheWalkingMouth: It doesn’t mean you’re not passionate about your art. Doesn’t mean you’re inevitably going to get a office job and abandon all your dreams. It means you’re being smart and not backing yourself into a corner

TheWalkingMouth:It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to have it all figured out

TheWalkingMouth: Nobody does.

TheWalkingMouth: Even if no one else gives you a second chance at least give yourself a second chance.

TheWalkingMouth: It’s perfectly normal to be afraid to fuck up and get fucked over TheWalkingMouth: That doesn’t mean you will everytime TheWalkingMouth: And it certainly doesn’t mean it's the end

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

[...Cowboy is typing…]

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

[yoyoplisetsky]

HELLLOOOOOO WELCOME TO “CARY ACTUALLY WROTE SOMETHING!?!?” feat. a little i will go down with this ship! story about the “real” viktor nikiforov

this fic asks you to disregard a little bit of canon. we all change things in our creative decisions, of course! nothing too major ;) i’ve changed and grown a lot since i started writing iwgdwts

but! the moment y’all have been waiting for! i thought it would be best to reveal in a small drabble on tumblr bc y’all are great and it’s been so long since i posted yoi fic so you deserved something fun and exciting!!!

“Are you sure I should do this?” Yuuri mumbled, resting his head against Viktor’s shoulder. He had been thinking about it for a while, ever since he and Viktor had started dating. He kept talking to Vik, and Viktor encouraged it.

“Of course!” Viktor mused, kissing Yuuri’s hair softly. “You’ve gotten really close to her, right? I think it would be fun! I’ll come with you, we can tell her that we both like the fics. It’s cute!”

“Most people would find it creepy, Vitya,” Yuuri laughed.

“She’s never done anything rude. She’s always very sweet and gives you the love you deserve. And her fics are great. We should meet ‘therealviknik’.” Viktor always put airquotes around Vik’s username because he thought that it was hilarious that someone online was claiming to really be him (at least, by URL).

Viktor, of course, wasn’t Vik.

That was a frankly laughable scenario. The kind that Vik would write in her fanfiction. The shocking, romantic kind that would take her a thousand years between each update because she can’t decide what will make the chapter the best and gets buried in other work and other ideas. The kind that Yuuri and thousands (unbelievably, amazingly, something that Vik would eternally be incredibly grateful for) of people would read.

It’s not the kind of thing that would happen in real life.

Yuuri swallowed and opened up tumblr.

katsukiforov: hey vik!

katsukiforov: i was thinking, and i know this is weird after all the anonymity and stuff, but i was thinking maybe… we could meet up?

katsukiforov: i get if you don’t want to!!! it’s a really weird request and sort of out of the blue…

katsukiforov: i just think … i should probably tell you about myself in person haha…

therealviknik: omg!!!! you want to meet? jsdalkfsa;;

therealviknik: i’m outta school rn and not working yet so i’m super free!!! are you coming here or there or

katsukiforov: i… don’t know where you are, but i can come to you. i don’t want you to have to pay for the trip when it was my idea

katuskiforov: plus my boyfriend wants to come with me and so he’ll find it fun to go somewhere new

therealviknik: i mean ohio is boring as Hell but you’re definitely welcome to come visit :)

therealviknik: i’ll show you the best of ohio ;)

therealviknik: so all of like… three things

katsukiforov: you’re in ohio, then?

therealviknik: 22 years here the real question is when am i Not in ohio asjldfas;;

Yuuri laughed at the messages and kept talking until he’d gathered a good date to meet up with Vik and the specific city in Ohio where she lived.

It was weirdly exciting, actually, that he was going to meet Vik. He’d pictured her a lot over the years of talking to her. He’d gotten what he thought was a pretty good image.

She never posted selfies, but he knew that she was in a wheelchair after many conversations about her frustrations with broken motors and dumb stories (like her tripping over it at 1 in the morning because she decided to push it with her feet instead of her hands).

She liked ants, loved Viktor, mostly owned the color purple, would die for Ant-Man, and had a lizard named Smaug, among other things.

And he was going to meet her in Ohio.

He supposed that explained the time that she edited Viktor’s face onto corncobs at like 3am. When he’d been in college in Detroit, he’d driven to multiple cities in Ohio (since it really wasn’t that far at all, driving from Ohio to Detroit was completely reasonable for a musical you really want to see, or something like that). And, well… once you got past Toledo, Ohio was pretty much all the same.

Corn.

Still, he was excited to go since it meant meeting Vik. Nervous, but Viktor did his best to help Yuuri keep his nerves down.

Before he knew it, he was in the airport, a ticket to Ohio in hand. He checked tumblr one last time before he boarded, sending a video of a lizard chasing after some crickets to Vik before messaging.

katsukiforov: getting on the plane now

therealviknik: !!!

therealviknik: i am So Hype kat omg jaslkdfas;;

therealviknik: i’ll be at the airport!

therealviknik: i’m the one in the wheelchair and the ant-man shirt probably Still crying about this lizard jsakldfas;;

katsukiforov: knew you’d like that one

katsukiforov: see you soon!

Yuuri turned off the phone as he stepped onto the plane. He tapped his fingers against his leg the whole ride, trying to keep breathing. This would be fine. Vik would probably freak out, but hopefully she’d be cool about it and not like… totally go crazy.

The plane landed and Yuuri went to gather his luggage before he could look for Vik. He held tight to the handle of his suitcase, each step feeling like a thousand as he approached.

There were a bunch of people in the airport, but after a second he was pretty sure that he saw her.

A girl sat there, pink earphones plugged into her phone as she watched some video, lost to the world. From the reflection in her purple and blue framed glasses, Yuuri was pretty sure it was something about… ants?

If the wheelchair and Ant-Man shirt weren’t dead giveaways that she’d told him herself¸ then crying about a video about ants in a crowded airport certainly would be.

That had to be Vik.

He walked up to her and she looked up, taking a second to untangle her earphone from her long and unruly ponytail. Her eyes widened as she made eye contact, opening and closing her mouth a few times before settling on just staring.

Yuuri awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… Vik?”

“Oh my god,” Vik whispered, staring up at him. She set her phone down (and, yes, she was definitely watching some video about ants). “Yeah, but you can call me Cary. Wait, are you serious? Are you Kat?”

“Sorry,” Yuuri groaned, covering his face. “I know it’s weird.”

Cary waved her hands and her wheelchair started to move before she yelped, tapping her wrist against her leg with an awkward look. “I forgot my motor actually was working, sorry,” she laughed before looking up at him again. “Are you telling me that Yuuri Katsuki has read my fics?”

“I know it’s weird,” Yuuri repeated, groaning. “This is why I thought it would be better to tell you in person.”

“It’s super weird,” Cary said, fiddling with the end of her hair before shaking her head. “Oh my god,” she whispered, laughing softly. “Yuuri Katsuki sends me videos of lizards that make me cry because they’re so cute.”

Then her eyes hardened, glaring at him.

That wasn’t what he expected. Of course, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, considering the fact that he had lied to her, but he had sort of… expected that to be the first reaction, not some follow-up. “My characterization is great, thank you very much!” she finally said and Yuuri stared at her.

“It is, Viktor and I have joked that you write like you actually know us and – “

“No,” Cary cut in. “You kept commenting about how I made Yuuri too good at stuff. You’re amazing, and you deserve everything I give you in fics. Shut up.”

“Oh.” Yuuri stared at her, his eyes wide. He was never great at taking compliments, but he’d gotten used to them from Vik, even though she hadn’t known directly that she was complimenting him before… “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” Cary said, crossing her arms over her chest before her face filled with a  bright smile. “I still can’t believe it’s you. Oh my god. Lily and I were thinking about getting a photoshoot with you and Viktor at a convention together, and we wouldn’t have even known.”

“You’re… not going to tell anyone, right? I know I’ve dropped out of the fandom quite a bit since me and Viktor started dating, but I just… want to make sure that no one knows.”

“Let it out, and lose you online? No way! Your secret is safe with me,” Cary smiled, tapping her hand against her wheel. The motor turned on, rolling smoothly though making an odd clicking noise. Judging by past descriptions of the motor, he assumed it was almost pristine with only a small noise. Yuuri walked after her, having to walk a bit too quickly to keep up.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, smiling at her. “I’d miss talking to you too. It’s weird. Phichit is totally open with who he is online, but I just… this is better.”

“Oh, especially. Wouldn’t want everyone finding out about you reading the weird stuff.” Cary turned to him and winked.

The weirdest thing he read was the time that she wrote a fic for her own birthday that featured him turning into a lizard at the full moon and keeping ants. He was pretty sure that no one would care about the “weird stuff.” He didn’t want to read any of the weird stuff.

They walked in almost silence for a little bit before Cary slammed her hand against her wheel, effectively stopping her motor. Cary glanced at Yuuri, a shockingly shy look on her face. “Wait if you’re Yuuri, does that mean when you said your boyfriend is coming, that means…” Cary trailed off, staring at him with wide eyes.

Right. Of course. That little detail was one she’d latch onto. Cary, as much as she wrote about both of them, had a habit to focus on Viktor and often posted compliments about him only. “Viktor’s showing up tomorrow.”

“Oh my god.” Yuuri could only describe the noise that Cary made as a shriek, her eyes wide and excited. Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. “Look, I love you, I love your love, you know I love that, but Viktor Nikiforov is my life.”

“I would have never known,” Yuuri laughed. Between Cary’s icon, blog description, URL, and everything else, her love of Viktor was hardly a secret.

He could relate.

After all, wasn’t that part of why he’d loved her fics?

happy april fool’s day 

i love you i’m gonna have a real update eventually i promise ajskldfa;;

[thelastspeecher]

So yesterday I wrote two Lute-oriented things in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU.  Here’s the more angsty one of the two, without a title bc I couldn’t think of one.  Enjoy the angst.

              Lute wasn’t expecting a phone call from Ford.

              He’d tucked in his nieces and nephew for the night, lying through his teeth when they asked for reassurance, offering empty platitudes that tasted bitter on his tongue.

              We won’t be able to keep things a secret fer much longer.  He closed the door to the room the children were sleeping and made his way to the kitchen for a much-needed drink.  Every day that we don’t hear from Stan, they get more suspicious.  He looked at the phone on the counter next to the liquor cabinet, willing it to ring. It stayed silent.  Dammit, Stanley, please just let us know yer all right.  And Fidds is all right.  And Stanford.  Lute shook his head and opened the liquor cabinet.  The phone rang.  He snatched the phone off the hook.

              “Hello, McGucket residence, this is Lute speakin’,” he said into the receiver, speaking so fast his words tripped over themselves.

              “Lute…I…”  Lute recognized the voice.

              “Stanford?” he asked cautiously.

              “Yes.  It’s me, I-” Ford was breathing heavily, like he had just done physical exercise.  

              Or finished cryin’ or screamin’. Lute’s heart sank.

              “What happened?” he asked.

              “I- it’s-”

              “If ya can’t answer that, put Stan on the phone, okay?  It’s been ages since we heard from y’all and we’re gettin’ worried.”

              “I can’t.”

              “Can’t what?”

              “Put Stan on the phone.”

              “Why not?”

              “He- he’s gone.”

              “He’s gone?” Lute yelped.  “What does that mean?”

              “It means he’s gone.  He’s not- he’s not here.”

              “Then where is he?”

              “I- I don’t-”

              “Stanford, what happened?” Lute hissed.  Ford let out a sob.  Lute’s chest tightened.

              I’ve never heard him cry before.

              “It’s a long story,” Ford said, seemingly gathering himself enough to speak. “I can’t tell it over the phone.”

              “Well, yer goin’ to have to, ‘cause-”

              “I need you to come here,” Ford interrupted.  Lute’s eyes narrowed.

              “I ain’t goin’ anywhere until I get more information.”

              “I told you, I can’t tell you over the phone.  I need to tell you in person.  Please, just come here.”

              “And I told you.  I need more information ‘fore I go bail you out of whatever trouble you got yourself into.”

              “Look,” Ford said desperately.  “I know we aren’t close.  And your decidedly mixed opinion of me is going to get much worse when I tell you what I’ve done and what happened to Stan.  But don’t think of it as coming for me.  Think of it as coming for your sister.  Fiddleford is still- I don’t know where he is.  Stan is- is gone.  Angie’s all alone in Gravity Falls.  She deserves to see a friendly face when she wakes up.”

              “…Fine,” Lute whispered.  “I’ll do it fer Angie.  But the second I get there, you best tell me what happened to Stan, or so help me-”

              “Yes, I’ll- I’ll explain everything.”

              “Good.  I’ll get there as soon as I can.”  Lute hung up. He stared at the phone for a moment before someone spoke behind him.

              “Lute, I heard ya shout, is somethin’ wrong?”  Lute spun around.  His parents stood in the kitchen, looking concerned.  Lute ran a hand through his hair.

              “I- I ain’t quite sure.  That was Stanford.  He wanted me to come to Gravity Falls.”

              “Stan got through to him, then?” Pa McGucket asked.

              “I don’t rightly know.  He didn’t say.”

              “You asked about Stan, right?” Ma McGucket said.  Lute nodded.  “And?”

              “He wouldn’t elaborate.  But I think somethin’ bad happened.  Somethin’ real bad.”  Ma and Pa McGucket exchanged a worried look.

              “Go pack yourself a bag,” Ma McGucket said softly.  “We’ll find ya a plane ticket so’s ya can get there faster.”

              “Thanks, Ma.”  Lute kissed his mother on the cheek.  “When I leave, don’t tell the kidlets where I am.  I don’t want to raise their hopes.”

              “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of ‘em,” Pa McGucket said.  “Find out what’s goin’ on.”  Lute nodded firmly.

              “I’ll do that.”

----- 

              “I don’t understand anything that’s goin’ on,” Lute croaked, staring at the machine in Ford’s basement.  He rubbed his eyes.  “What- how-”

              “It’s an interdimensional portal,” Ford said.  When Lute had arrived less than an hour ago, he’d found the front door unlocked and Ford passed out on the stairs, visibly disheveled. But immediately after waking up, Ford had insisted on taking Lute to the basement, and Lute had reluctantly followed.

              Not my brightest moment.

              “An interdimensional portal,” Lute repeated.  Ford nodded.  His eyes were bloodshot, his face unshaven.  It was difficult to take anything Ford said at face value at the moment. “And Stan went through it.”

              “Yes.”

              “So he’s in a dif’rent dimension.”

              “Yes.”

              “And Fiddleford went partially through it, and that’s why he ran off?”

              “Yes.”

              “Good Lord.”  Lute groaned. “I don’t know how much of this I can believe, Stanford.”

              “When we find Fiddleford, he’ll verify what I’m saying,” Ford said.  Lute sighed.

              “Okay, fine.  If he backs ya up, I’ll believe ya.  But he’s missing.”

              “…Yes.  He is. We need to find him.”  Ford looked down at the ground.  “I don’t want anyone else to suffer for what I’ve done.”

              “Findin’ him is goin’ to be easier said than done.”

              “I know.”  Ford looked Lute in the eyes.  “But I need to fix things.”

              “I agree.”  Lute glanced at the machine again.  “And since there aren’t exactly a lot of people ‘round to help ya with that, I’ll do it.”

----- 

              Lute paced anxiously at the foot of Angie’s hospital bed.  Fiddleford was dozing fitfully in the chair by her bed.

              Got to figure out what we’ll be tellin’ the fam’ly.  Lute chewed on his lip.  Got to find a way to phrase it without it soundin’ like Stan left on purpose.  One of the few things Lute and Ford had been able to agree upon was that the rest of the McGucket family wouldn’t be told the truth of where Stan had gone, deciding that it wouldn’t be right to drag them into the weirdness of Gravity Falls. ‘Course, I got dragged into it… There was a small groan from the hospital bed.  Lute’s head whipped around.  Angie was moving.  His mouth went dry.

              “Angie?” he whispered.  Angie opened her eyes.  Lute raced to the door of the hospital room and flung it open.  “Could I get a doctor or nurse in here?” he called.  “My sister’s wakin’ up!”  He turned around to face Angie.  She was staring up at the ceiling blankly.  Lute shook Fiddleford’s shoulder.  Fiddleford awoke with a snort.

              “What?” Fiddleford asked irritably.  Lute nodded at the hospital bed.

              “She’s up.”

              “She’s- oh goodness!”  Fiddleford jumped up from his chair and rushed to Angie’s side.  He took a hold of her hand.  “Banjey?”

              “…Fidds?” Angie asked quietly.  “Where- what-”

              “Try to stay calm,” Fiddleford said soothingly.  “Yer in the hospital.”

              “Why?”

              “There was an accident.”

              “Accident?”

              “Yes.”  Fiddleford squeezed Angie’s hand.  “But don’t worry, yer daughters are safe.  And Lute’s here.”

              “Lute?” Angie asked, confused.  Lute joined Fiddleford at their sister’s bedside.  “What are ya doin’ here?”

              “Stanford called me ‘n asked me to come,” Lute explained.  Angie’s brow furrowed.

              “Why would he ask ya to do that?”

              “…It’s complicated.”

              “Where’s Stan?”

              “He’s…”  Lute trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

              “He’s not here right now, but don’t worry,” Fiddleford interjected. Angie frowned at him.

              “That’s the second time you’ve told me not to worry.  What’s goin’ on?”

              “We’ll explain later, just try to stay calm right now.  Yer in a delicate state, and we’d hate fer ya to lose the baby after all you’ve been through.”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “The- what baby?”

              “Yer pregnant.”

              “I’m-”

              “The doctors found out when you were brought in after yer fall,” Lute said. Tears welled in Angie’s eyes. “Is- are ya upset?”

              “No, I’m- we wanted another kid.  I’m happy.  I’m assumin’ Stan knows?”

              “Yes.  He does.”

              “Good.”  Angie swallowed.  “And- and Lute, I didn’t fall.  I was pushed.”

              “Pushed?  Whattaya-” A doctor entered the room.

              “Excuse me, I need to take her vitals,” the doctor said, pushing Fiddleford and Lute to the side.

              “But-”

              “We can talk about it later,” Angie said quietly.  “When Stan’s around.”  A tight feeling formed in Lute’s chest.

              “Right,” he said quietly.  “When Stan’s around.”

 -----

              Crying came over the baby monitor.  Lute sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

              Prob’ly Emmett.  He’s the fussiest one.  He got up with a small groan.  The way he screams all the time, ya wouldn’t know he has bad lungs.  He exited the guest room that was rapidly becoming his bedroom and made his way to the nursery.  Footsteps sounded behind him.

              “I can get him,” Angie’s voice said.  Lute turned.  Angie stood in the hallway, her hair in disarray and skin pale as a sheet.  She rubbed her eyes.  “He’s my son, after all.”

              “You need yer sleep,” Lute said gently.  He put a hand on her shoulder.  “Go back to bed.  I’m surprised ya managed to wake up as it is.  The nursery’s pretty far from yer room.  How did ya hear?”  Angie looked away.  Lute sighed. “Hand it over.”

              “…No.”

              “Angie, I know you grabbed another monitor.  Give it to me.”

              “No!”  Angie shook Lute’s hand from her shoulder.

              “Banjolina Quinn McGucket, you need yer sleep.  You can’t get the sleep ya need if ya wake up in the middle of the night all the time.”

              “They’re my sons,” Angie snapped.  “What kind of- what kind of-”  Her eyes welled with tears.  “What kind of mother am I if- if I can’t even take care of ‘em when- when they’re cryin’?”

              “Banjey…”

              “I haven’t been able to do anything lately,” she sobbed.  “I can’t help bring Stan back.  I can’t- I can’t do my research.  I can’t take care of my children.  I’m- I’m useless.”

              “Yer not useless,” Lute said firmly.  Angie shook her head.  “You aren’t.”

              “All right.  If I’m not useless, what can I do?” Angie asked.  Tears still stood in her eyes, but the stubbornness she’d had her whole life shone through in her voice.  “What can I do, Lute?  Tell me.”

              “Get better,” Lute replied.  Angie straightened her back and brushed past Lute into the nursery.  “Angie, don’t-”

              “C’mere, honey,” Angie said quietly, taking Emmett from his crib. His crying died down.  “You just wanted yer ma, huh?  Don’t worry, I’m here.  Yer ma is here.”  Emmett began to cough loudly.  “What is it, baby?”  Emmett’s coughing grew more ragged.  “Emmett-”

              “He’s having an asthma attack, Banjey,” Lute said.  Angie stared at him.  “Please, give him to me, I’ll give him his medicine.”

              “I- I can give him his medicine.”

              “You’ve never given him his medicine ‘fore, ya don’t know how.  Give him to me ‘fore he gets worse.”

              “But-”

              “There ain’t time fer this,” Lute said roughly.  He grabbed the nebulizer off the shelf baby supplies were kept in and plugged it in.  “He’ll get hurt if he don’t get his medicine.”

              “…Okay.”  Angie handed Emmett over.  She slumped against Emory’s crib, watching silently as Lute placed the nebulizer’s mask over Emmett’s face.  Emmett’s breathing steadied.  Lute removed the mask.

              “He’s goin’ to be fine.”  Lute looked up at Angie.  Tears streamed down her face.  “Here, take yer lil boy.”

              “Why?  It’s better if I don’t.”

              “He needs his ma.”

              “He clearly doesn’t.”  Angie wiped the tears off her cheeks.  “I can’t protect him.”

              “All we have to do is show ya how to use the nebulizer.  It’s easy.”

              “He’s three months old.  I should already know how to use it.”

              “You’ve been busy gettin’ better.”

              “But three months-”

              “You haven’t been gettin’ enough sleep to properly recuperate,” Lute pointed out.  Angie was silent.  “Once ya start sleepin’, you’ll bounce back.  And you can take on more responsibilities, includin’ Emmett’s medicine.”

              “…Maybe.”  Angie looked into Emory’s crib.  She reached into the crib to stroke Emory’s cheek.  “Emory looks so much like Stan.”  She let out a shuddering breath.  “He’s always wanted a son.”

              “They’re good kids.”

              “Yeah.”  Angie bit her lip.  “We can’t teach ‘em how to throw footballs.  Stan ‘ll be sad if he doesn’t get the chance.”

              “I don’t think we know anyone who can throw a football anyways,” Lute said. Angie managed a weak smile.

              “Good point.”

              “Go back to bed.  I’ll handle things from here.”

              “Okay.”  Angie walked over to Lute, kissed Emmett on the forehead, and then exited the nursery. Lute looked at his nephew, surprised.

              “She didn’t try to fight it,” he remarked.  Emmett yawned widely.  “Good point, you need sleep, too.”  Lute carefully put Emmett in his crib, then went back to the shelf to put away the nebulizer. He paused.

              Is this…  He picked up a baby monitor that hadn’t been there before.  This must be the one Angie hid in her room.

              “Thank the Lord,” he whispered.  “She can fin’ly sleep.”  Crying emanated from Emory’s crib.  Upset by his twin’s crying, Emmett also began to fuss.  Lute rubbed his forehead.

              Well, at least one of us ‘ll get some sleep.

[mannatea]

Kent/Lyn, 12 & 35. Hector/Farina, 50!

Thanks for indulging me, but sorry it took me 90 years to get to it. ;P I made it extra long to remind you of the good ol’ days!!!

Kent/Lyn:

12. who do they confide in when shit hits the fan (besides each other)?

I feel like Lyn is the kind of person to have multiple go-to people, depending on the situation at hand.

She strikes me as an understanding and accommodating friend: there are some things that she just wouldn’t burden Florina with/that Florina might not be comfortable with discussing. Rank probably matters a little bit, here, because some issues don’t leave the room (or at least they stay only with the people in the room), like state secrets or the equivalent, but Florina’s perfect for regular friendship things (especially softer emotional discussions), reminiscing about the good old days, and some good old-fashioned harmless venting.

For angry venting, there’s always Sain and Wil. Sain is the right choice if she wants someone to get angry with her—you know, the supportive angry rant-with-you kind of friend who echoes your sentiment and allows you to have a dialogue with emotion! Wil is best if she wants a more neutral opinion/listener who will offer to help/give advice after the rant is over.

Depending on the setting, Wallace is a good choice for some ranting, too, but I love the thought of him being kind of like an uncle figure to her; he fills in some of the gaps about her mother she never really knew were missing, and had a real love for both of her parents that shows in the way he speaks of them; something she kind of holds onto because nobody else gets it.

Hector’s better for a sparring match than dialogue, but sometimes that’s what Lyn needs to get her mind off of things. I like to imagine he kind of ‘gets it’ when she needs to get out some frustration or something; it’s not anything she needs to talk about, but in absence of that, Lyn is the kind of person who still has to do something. If she’s looking for a word-fight she’ll go to him, too. He’s good for that, and he doesn’t (usually) take it personally.

Eliwood is a hard one to pin down, because it’s hard for me to imagine they’re really that close; I don’t think he ‘gets’ her the way most of the other characters do? He tries, though, and that counts for a lot. Also, he’s a lot like Florina in that he’s trustworthy: a good confidante. If Lyn ever needs personal advice (relationship or otherwise), I think Eliwood would be the right guy to go to for her. He wouldn’t tease or poke fun at her, and that information would NEVER reach anyone else’s ears. Ever. He’d offer diplomatic/polite advice with a smile and with an attempt to understand the situation and any important details first. He’s good at asking the right questions most of the time.

It’s been a long time since I deeply considered Lyn’s relationship to Hausen, but I think right now I’m sort of high-key imagining that they’re almost, like…fake-close? It’s not that they don’t love each other, because I think they do in their own ways, but being related or being interested in getting to know someone isn’t just a ticket to a close relationship. Not only do you have to want that, but you have to be compatible AND willing to take the time to cultivate what’s there. Lyn and Hausen both have tons of the latter, but I’m not so sure they’re compatible.

Her friendship with Kent still matters of course, so his place in this mix is probably a bit of everything, but he’s a high(er)-ranking individual she can confide in about information the others aren’t privy to…and he’s also a very good confidante (he’d rather die than betray her trust). She wouldn’t angry-vent at him too much because rather than just get emotionally hyped with her (Sain) or listen to her and offer calm, friendly advice (Wil), he strikes me as the type who wants to Fix It Right Now—even when that’s not necessarily the appropriate response. He may also kind of freeze up and Not Respond At All (when he doesn’t know how exactly he’s expected to respond), almost as a defense mechanism to avoid Responding Poorly.

–

Then you have Kent. Besides Lyn, he uh…really only has Sain. 

But hey, that’s actually pretty much perfect for Kent. He’s never struck me as the kind of person who enjoys societal pleasure of any kind overmuch. It’s not that he finds it painful so much as maybe awkward? Most of his life has been in service and when he was younger and more impressionable—at the age where you learn to make friends and all that—he was more interested in impressing the adults in his life. Thus, he has only ever had one or two people to talk to about more important personal matters. 

Again, it’s probably for the best. A couple of very serious and important relationships is about his maximum capacity. I don’t think he could maintain a slew of decent casual friendships (the way Lyn can), but also his bar for friendship and what constitutes a friend is very high.

Fiora is a good option for some general commiseration re: failure if he would bother to open up about it, but I don’t think either of them would do so easily. Still, they’ve both been commanding officers and I think that alone gives them something to talk about and discuss. I also feel their general morals line up, so if either of them need a rant about something other people would judge them for, they can go to each other.

Fiora and Sain are both great in that they would have Kent’s back if he needed it, so depending on how shit hit the fan, he could lean on either of them (but more easily on Sain just because that friendship has been years in the making; boon companions and all that).

He has decent relationships with some other people, though. I like to think he still looks up to Wallace, thinks well of Wil, and is on friendly terms with Florina, but I imagine his general acquaintances either stagnate or suffer because he’s not good at multitasking emotionally.

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.

(I didn’t really mention Farina because...eh. I enjoy their interaction and I love writing it, but without a lot of very meaningful buildup, I wouldn’t even consider them friends.)

35. do they have any regrets (regarding the other, or just in general)?

This is a delicious question and a perfect one for Kent and Lyn. Let’s assume their paired ending:

I always take the endings (paired or otherwise) with about a grain of salt. You know: more like suggestions! 

Kent and Lyn’s ending makes a reasonable amount of sense (you may have noticed that some endings just don’t ring true to characterization), but it also manages to be ridiculously open-ended. I guess at least it’s “happy.” (Unlike Canas’s. Damn blizzards.)

Anyway, Lyn abdicates and/or never assumes the throne (I guess there’s wiggle room there), Caelin’s totally fine with being absolved into Ostia (you know this is gonna happen), and they’re so chill about this that they don’t even mind Lyn running off with a former vassal. Maybe they didn’t want her ruling in the first place?

Eh, who knows.

The wording leaves room for questions/interpretative differences and all that, but the basics of it boil down to: they both go to Sacae.

This means they both give up things to go there, but we can’t pretend Kent isn’t the one making the bigger/more obvious sacrifice. He literally gives up everything except Lyn. Which, okay, the scope of it isn’t easy for a lot of people to grasp, but like, imagine leaving everything you’ve ever known and moving somewhere else with what you can feasibly carry with you on horseback.

That might not be too hard. Lots of us have moved across a country or even overseas.

Now imagine doing this, but doing it knowing full well that you may very well NEVER AGAIN hear from the people you’re leaving behind.

And not just that, but you’re leaving everything familiar to you. You don’t know the roads, the trees, the shape of the land, the colors, the smells.

Let’s talk Best Case Scenario! Even if, in good ol’ Fire Emblem-land, where farmers can be knights and all that, Kent comes from a farming background, he’d have left that behind before age 10. Again, on the BCS track, let’s say he retained a bit of that knowledge! Great! He knows a little about living off the land!

But he doesn’t know how to do it the way Lyn might know how to do it. So we have to go back to Lyn. She’s still pretty young herself, and her culture was big on group work; it’s not like anyone did the big chores alone. So Lyn almost surely has at least basic knowledge of what to do/what needs done, but 1) never would have done all of it, because roles were outlined, and 2) after a couple/few years away from it, and without the chance to grow into her role as a woman within her society, how much of the really important survival stuff does she actually remember? (Some of this depends on how old you think Lyn is and if her society felt she was an adult; either way she wouldn’t have been an adult for very long IMO, not enough to function in her society as such.)

There’s tons of stuff to explore here!!!! 

Lyn in Caelin has the same problem Lyn on the plains has: she still doesn’t get to become an adult the way she always would have imagined she would. Her culture isn’t dead, but with less than ten surviving people, the chance of it fully dying out within a generation is huge. She can pass some stuff on to a child, but not everything. It’s not the same. She’s going to have to mourn this, and it may not hit her until she’s out there again and the reality of what’s missing hits her.

She could join another tribe, maybe—in theory, it might be more complicated than that—but their customs aren’t going to be the same. Heck, they might not even speak the same (exact or similar) language. (Would they even accept Kent with her? This could be something Lyn is sacrificing to bring Kent with her.)

Anyway, Lyn gets a little of what she wants going back to Sacae (at least freedom), but she doesn’t get her culture back and she doesn’t get that lifestyle back that she misses.

Kent’s making the bigger sacrifice, though, because nothing about Sacae is familiar to him.

Depending on what they try to do and where they go, it’s really easy to imagine regret existing in little bits and pieces.

Kent strikes me as the sort to very rarely have *deep* regrets. He may oftentimes ‘regret’ doing or saying something, but the bigger decisions he makes are done with conviction and never with haste, so he usually stands by them and his heart allows him peace.

That said, there’s no doubt he has regrets. I like the idea of him having a few regrets about situations where OVERALL he feels he made the best choice, but the regret stems from the negative things that happened because of that choice (having to fight his former peers/allies/teachers, for example, or fleeing and leaving his men to possibly die when Laus attacked). You know, he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too, but he couldn’t have both.

And then we have his relationship with Lyn.

I bet he low-key would have regrets about going to Sacae after-the-fact. Not the *actual* going, and certainly not in loving Lyn, but in not spending more time with his family beforehand, in not being more prepared, not asking enough questions, not bringing more supplies, not learning more of the language(s), et cetera. So much can go wrong out there without a support system. Kent’s not stupid and he’s not helpless, but he only has control over so much, and accidents happen. If they ended up in dire straights and there was little he could do to help...or was even actively hindering progress, he’d blame himself and it’d be a whole mess where he feels like he can’t contribute and he’s worthless, and then he’s depressed and miserable.

Lyn surely has regrets in general (re: her culture and her parents and all that), but I don’t think she regrets anything deeply easily (something she kind of has in common with Kent). It usually takes a lot for her to get that lingering gut-wrenching regret feeling. But you’d better believe if Kent ended up miserable she’d feel it. She’d hate being the cause of anyone she cares about’s personal pain, but it’d be a little extra awful if she’s fairly content out there and Kent isn’t.

I rambled too much and my head hurts so I’m not sure if any of this makes good sense, but I think there’s a lot of room for regret within their lives and even their relationship—especially if things go poorly for them. Not the loving part, of course, but the part where they pursued something and because of that their partner isn’t happy anymore (or accepted anymore, or whatever).

Hector/Farina: 

50. if one of them were to come back after a long time, who would come to who? would it go well? would the other person take them back?

The only one who would probably ‘come back after a long time’ is Farina, because Hector’s pretty much tied to his canton after the end-game, so I gotta go with that.

As to if it would go well or not, well, I’m pretty sure I’ve RP’d like 30 variations on this theme (LMFAO), but the biggest factors are: their relationship with each other, and time.

If Hector was kinda into her and she acted like she was fine with that and then flew off for 10 years and came back trying to act like nothing was wrong... Well, it wouldn’t go well. I mean, not at first anything. (Nothing a good RP couldn’t fix, though. :B)

At that point in time, though, for an example to work with, it’s hard to say if Hector would ‘take her back.’ He may be unable to do so officially (married, busy running a country that’s falling apart at the seams, he has a daughter to worry about) and/or emotionally unwilling to let her back in. (Though this depends a lot on their former relationship and how she left/if she ever wrote to him or visited, if feelings were confessed, a lot of what-ifs, tbh.)

It also depends on how lonely he is. It gets clear that Hector and Eliwood get super busy and don’t even get to see each other regularly after the end of the game, so it’s possible that Hector would desire contact with someone who Gets Him (or at least Gets What He’s Been Through). The FE7 endgame is pretty much the opposite of FE8′s: it’s like nobody even knew it was happening and they gotta go back to their cantons like they didn’t just fight a whole ass dragon; he might be happy to have someone he can talk to about that again (in the event that his former vassals may no longer be in his direct employ and/or Farina fought by his side that day).

[elichatterarchive]

yt/td au for my muses bc levi and i are iconic keep scrolling

1. leon: hes probably just a commoner in the main games but he also knows full well he’s not all that useful in puzzles that don’t require just pure brute strength... he’s also kind of a coward so he’d definitely see if he can strike up a partnership w a stronger player? i dont mind if he gets killed off but he isnt particularly abrasive just kind of dumb and defensive thus suspicious. he can partake in russian roulette just to establish that he cant handle stress and i kind of want him to have a motive to get tf out in kanon. he’s not fantastic at switching tokens but he’s okay... middle-ish

2. santa: on the other hand he IS abrasive. santa is loud and defensive and smart, which can’t always be good mixes yk?he gets genuinely angry in main games when things seem obvious to him but other people don’t just agree with him. there’s also the small matter of him being able to send information to snake via morphonogenic fields, so if he’s ever the sage, snake would also know who the keymaster is. santa is super useful thanks to him already having done a death game -- he’s good at this. he’s basically counting on his usefulness to keep him alive, in contrast to leon. hes gotta get back to akane at the end of the day he cares NOUGHT abt all these ppl. probably finds the 200 vending machine and the switch in his character (from him being all irritable to wanting to trade tokens w everyone) is cause for concern 

3. byakuya: is an asshole!!! he has to survive bc thats the entire point of his character -- he’s supposed to be the kind of hatesink that just keeps weaselling his way through -- but i’m not opposed to having him in some really sticky situations, because, well, he’s suspicious!! he’s also a really good barterer, so i can’t see the token game being a trouble for him at all. byakuya’s biggest issue is probably going to be people voting for him bc they hate him and ESP w ch2 having the card swapping dynamic he might be in danger there. he also has the impostor to argue with which is just delicious... he also can lie all he likes. i really want both a ‘i see. so now the suspicion falls on me’ moment AND a ‘how can you know what i don’t know?’ moment...

4 & 5. the twins: they cause a massive stir in the first main game, as kaoru is the sacrifice and hikaru is the sage, but they basically impersonate each other, trying to make everyone vote for kaoru-as-hikaru (whom they think is the sage) when he’s actually the sacrifice so they can escape together. this plan falls through obviously and kaoru is killed, but not before he tells hikaru to exist independently and not just as a ~twin~. hikaru basically has a meltdown and becomes unresponsive for a long while, going off by himself and ignoring the group, but he’s smart, kind of devilish, and he might just find something. not gonna lie he’s drawn to kokichi after kaoru dies which makes him very dangerous

6. peko: basically fucks up another main game in a valiant effort to save fuyuhiko and herself. i assume their relationship follows the same misunderstanding as it does in-game, and she takes this to mean that she must act like she doesnt know him but still continue her duties as a ‘tool’ -- she either is the sacrifice or convinces everyone else that fuyuhiko is the keymaster or something, putting herself on the chopping block to keep him alive. it appears she’s aloof, but friendly to everyone else -- nope! she’s faking it to get them all to trust her so she can betray them for fuyuhiko.

7. keebo: is a doll!! the entire time!! it takes some huge reveal to sell him out to everyone but even he doesnt know hes a doll until he’s told!! has a proper meltdown because of it and basically asks to be voted to be killed because ‘i know that my will is my own.’ he wants to save his friends... he loves them real human love and thats all he needed!! hes so cute geez. he doesnt get tokens unless theyre given to him and he never ever lies in a trial thats just how he is 

8. rantaro: a whole freak. hes ~mysterious~ and ~not a bad guy~ (read: someone from HIS previous death game was his partner in the first trial and he let them die bc they were nasty and evil and bad and he doesnt want that energy)... he’s just trying to keep as much of what he knows a secret as possible and he doesn’t really trust easy but he wants everyone to get out alive!! it’s very rare he loses his temper but when he does it’s over something REALLY big he PROPER loses his mind at the twins when they’re pulling their guessing game and later we find out it’s bc he knows exactly what wanting to save your siblings is like (s/o his sisters i love you)

9. gundham: oh he’s like VOCAL abt how much he doesnt trust everybody? obviously he has his dark lord persona and he’s talking abt how he’ll get out of here alive... he goes head to head with togami a lot... his first trial was that one that you can see on the victim videos where the woman has two guns one loaded one not and he has to shoot himself? he’s very very lucky but that keeps in with his russian roulette in the final dead room... he also is VERY good at the puzzles and will step in to help under the guise of ‘you people are all stupid and this is taking too long’. he gets the least amount of tokens in ch2 bc he makes absolutely no effort.

10. masaru: he’s the hero, obviously. he’s just a babey but he’s really good at like... spacial stuff? obviously he’s not all that bright but bc he’s sporty he’s super good at taking one look at a space and knowing the logistics of the room, where people need to be... it also makes him FANTASTIC at attractions if we look at it from a gameplay standpoint masaru is like a walking easy ticket yknow?? i also think he’s good at trading tokens bc he’s more mature than he seems and can and will catch you off guard in order to trade with you. masaru looooooves toko but he also loves leon and souda and gundham. he also wants to try quark’s hat on id love for him to tell me abt the actual game but yknow

[suggable]

HI! long post ahead! I just really want to write down the Day6 concert because I don’t ever want to forget this night hjsdkfld!!! 

Soooo in spite of the awful organization and long wait I can certainly say this has been one of my favourite concerts EVER like seriously pls if you like Day6 try to attend one of their concerts because hOLY SHIT and if you don’t like them idk what!! are you doing!! with your life !!!

That being said I’m gonna complain for a bit here. Just about a couple of things so bear with me (and as a psa for mydays attending other future concerts in Europe) So, the ticket sales....Idk if this depends on the venue or the concert managment aka mymusictaste but! I don’t think it’s normal that out of a total of 1000-1500 tickets max 400+ tickets were VVIP and about 500 tickets were VIP...like what’s the point of having VIP in the first place then? I didn’t care that much bc mine was just VIP but I guess someone that has spent 160 euros on a VVIP wouldn’t be happy to know there were other 350 people before them! PLus idk how the high touch went but do you expect the artists to meet 400 people? Insane and absurd...

Second issue was the queuing system. an absolute mess....so this “fanbase” (aka a popular twitter account) decided to organise an unofficial queuing system before the actual official venue organised queue...so we got a number drawn on the hand and VVIP and VIP got separated even though we both had the same early entrance...so VVIP got preference...and then we had to wait for the official numbered bracelets but of course they didn’t match the previously assigned numbers bc that’s what happens when you use a marker for numbering...such a big mess so so stupid BUT WHILE WE WERE WAITING WE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE oF YOUnGK insideTHE VAN ALL OF A SUDDEN NO ONE WAS EXPECTING IT AND I DIDN’T REACT FOR A FULL 5 SECS LIKE IT WAS A FUCKING VISION AND THEN IT WAS LIKE WOAH WAS THAT YOUNGK??!! so yeah worth the wait

anyway! after all the waiting (in the cold by a river for hours RIP my throat) we got a fairly good spot inside, just about 7-8 meters from the stage and thank god I’m kinda tall jhhjdjs we got a somewhat centered spot, like in between Sungjin and Jae. So the whole concert was AMAZING THEIR ENERGY THEIR TALENT THEIR VOCALS THEIR VISUALS THEY’RE SO FRIENDLY AND NICE AND WARM AND FUNNY AND GORGEOUS AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AHHHHJKDSL

About the members! Wonpil is the sweetest boy in the universe!!! Like he was so so nice during his ment ahhh it was such a shame bc he was the furthest to the right from us so we couldn’t see him all the time but wow his vocals!! and his fucking piano skills what a GOD what a cutie I adore him!! i’m sad I didn’t get to see more of him but he was so far T_T

then YoungK...what a man...like he looks unreal seriously..his nose omg his skin looks like porcelain! and those moves I’m deceased...also he has this really intense stare and whenever he looked in our general direction...chills but then he has the kindest smile the dUALITY also his bass skills are seriously good and his smooth dancing and his improvisation and he was so so hyped during the last part and smiling non stop!! and of course he had to talk about food during his ment akjsfjkkj he said he’d loved paella and jamón de bellota fskdjbkj

Dowoon is the cutest boy on earth pls he was so smiley and happy all the time and mouthing along the lyrics and his ears were so so red how cute is he!!! and he was so happy when we hyped him!! also he is INSANELY TALENTED like the way he plays the drums!! I wanna cry he’s so good! he was super cute during his ment ahhh

Jae is The Man...he was so so hyped all the time and so happy and would interact a lot with us and seemed to have such a great time ahhh he’s so nice also mad improvisation skills wow and his voice is so dreamy!! he said he was really impressed with us and the way we shouted and he said several times he was having the greatest time!! what a nice guy I want to be his friend so badly

And I’ve left Sungjin for last because this man has wrecked me jdknsal like for real I had the visual of the 5 of them most of the time but my eyes were glued to him!! he is fucking gorgeous someone help me!! his expressions while singing! the way he would smile at us while scanning the audience ahh his fucking raspy voice!! HIS EYES ARE SO SHINNY and they hold all the galaxies ahhhh to sum everything up i’m so fucking in love with this guy and when I thought it couldn’t get worse he gOT SO EMOTIONAL WHEN WE SANG HAPPY BDAY AND THEN AGAIN DURING THE MENT and HE WAS ABOUT TO CRY and i was tearing up too because he seemed so genuinely touched like he wasn’t expecting this at all and I love him so much!!! definitely new bias 

so yeah it was a great concert and so long too!! like 3 hours but it felt so short and i had so so much fun!!! and they’re amazing and they loved us and i hope they come back soon and i’m so thankful i got to see them and hope everyone enjoys their concerts as much as I have!!! also i don’t want to spoil anything but the setlist is very well thought like they combine songs by mood! 

omg this is so long and I could still keep talking but i’m drained !! i really wanted to write it down bc I need to remember everything!!!

[peachymhaechan]

“That’s new.”

Genre: fluff, soulmate au

Warning: language is that of a sailor’s

A/N: this is the second in the lil soulmate au series i’m writing this summer!! ten is one of my main bias wreckers (let’s be real tho- i’m a damn thot and all of nct attacks me on the daily) and this kiLLED ME. hope you enjoy!!

everyone has different soulmate quirks

your best friend only saw black and white until she met her s/o, then she saw the world in color

your parents had what you called the High School Musical quirk, where when one got a song stuck in their head, the other got the same song stuck in their head

all of your friends had these really cool and cute quirks

meanwhile, yours was.... odd to say the least

your quirk happened to be piercings

you just,,, got a piercing out of the blue

whoever your soulmate was, he or she loved body modifications

whenever your s/o would get a piercing, you’d get the same piercing

weird, but that was your life, man

the first time it happened was An Experience

imagine: you chilling in class, listening to a boring ass lecture, 

when you feel a sting in your ear 

and you reach up to see what the dealio is

and ?? you feel an earring ?? and blood ?? uhhhhhhhhh

nobody is paying attention to you so you just,, sat in the back of the class in a mini panic like ?? ! what the fuck !! what the complete fuck just happened !! 

finally, a tiny bit of blood dripped onto your desk and you were like // gotta blast // and done straight up bolted

you ran to the bathroom and found that you did, indeed, have a random ass piercing in your cartilage

“cool but what in The Complete Fuck”

so you took a picture of it just to prove to your friends that you weren’t insane

and then took it out and that was the end of it, right?

wrong

this bitch wrong. yeet! 

three days later, after you had forgotten about the mystery that was your lil piercing, it came back

except that time, you were at family dinner

you were chowing down when you felt it again

“-and then I got stuck in traffic on the way to work, and.... is your ear bleeding?” 

you felt your ear and sure enough, there was an earring and your ear had that tingly numb feeling any time you get a piercing

“is there an earring there?” you asked, already knowing the answer

“Y/N what the hell?”

you didn't know any more than your parents did so you shrugged in a what-can-ya-do? way

“It happened a couple of days ago in class but I didn't think anything of it, so I took the earring out and, well.... it came back, I guess.” 

“Hon, I’d hate to break it to you, but I think that is your quirk,” your dad said, to which you thought ???

??

hol up, this don’t add up 

it really did tho and you were just being a dumb thot oof

don't worry, i’m a dumb thot, too

“I mean.... okay, I guess.... sounds fake, but..... whatever.....” 

and lo and behold, you kept getting piercings

it’d be at the most random (and inconvenient) times

taking a final? that sucks man, it’d be a shame if someone //got some body modifications done//

at a funeral? shit bitch, you ain’t special, get some work done on your lobe at the viewing

tryna take a phat nap? tough luck, you won’t be able to sleep on your side for another week bc your soulmate was a grade A asshat

you had no idea who your soulmate was, but you did know that they had good taste in piercings

little did you know, he thought the same thing

there were a few occasions where he would be in dance practice and would have to stop bc?? ow ?? new earring?? 

but also,,, you’d be a dick back to him and would get piercings at ungodly hours of the night

let’s just say... you quickly became an expert on how to safely and cleanly give piercings

you, at four in the damn morning: this is for getting one done when I was in the middle of a presentation worth 40% of my final grade, you nasty thot

SM started promotions for their new group called NCT U

all of your friends became obsessed with the group and you were strung along with them

when the music video for The Seventh Sense was released, you found yourself drawn to one member in particular

his name was Ten and holy shit

that boy could dance

you immediately chose him as your bias and you thought, “okay, this is nice, but also the end of it.” 

wrong again!!

your friends (who were amazing, btw) managed to score tickets to a meet and greet the boys were having

the couple of weeks beforehand, you were getting ready okay

mentally preparing, like //holy shit, dawg//

then the day came

you woke up and looked in the mirror and thought, “My ear is looking a little boring. I have some space right there, might as well fill it.” 

so, you being you, picked up your needle (DISINFECTED, OF COURSE!! In this house we SAFELY give ourselves body modifications!!) and went to town

ngl you were feeling yourself, lookin all cute or whateva with that new sassy piercing you had going on

it wasn’t too over the top but it was enough for you to feel like you were going to walk in the building, get swarmed by paparazzi, and shut the place down

you know the feeling^^

the time for the meet n greet rolls around

you were incredibly nervous

I mean, hello?? meeting ten?? scary shit, dude

you got in line and met all of the other members first

damn sm had to put him on the very end smh

but when you got there

oh man

you were suuuuuuper fuckin nervous dawg

full on shaking, blushing,,,, a whole ass mess

he grabbed your hand and gave you that reassuring smile of his (you know the one) 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, chuckling a little bit

Him on the outside: confident

Him on the inside: panicked, omg the person standing in front of me is so beautiful, they’re literally quaking omg how do I calm them down

“Just a little,” you sheepishly told him, not even trying to hide it

He took both of your hands and interlaced your fingers and

holy shit

your hands fit perfectly together?? 

uhhhhhhh did somebody say #meanttobe?? 

you guys talked for a bit 

it was mainly just you telling him like

hey i’m a big fan!! I really love you, very much!! your dancing is actually beautiful and it’s inspiring to see someone who is so passionate at what they love doing just that, doing what they love!! 

and the whole time he sat there and went full damn uwu

he thought, “I can sit here all day and listen to them talk.” 

but unfortunately the meet and greet couldn’t last forever :(

just as you were about to go, you noticed something, though

his piercings were

different??

you had seen pictures of the boy from the day before and something was,,,,, off

you finally realized what it was, tho

“That’s new,” you said, pointing to the earring that just,,, popped up overnight

the piercings you had were the exact same

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking.... when did you get that one done?” you asked, and you saw something in his eyes click

“It popped up this morning...… Why?” he answered, secretly hoping You Were The One

lucky for him :)

you touched your own ear 

“Because I gave myself this piercing this morning...”

something in his eyes told you that he knew

he knew that you were his soulmate

his heart was beating so fast

he dropped his fake flirting persona immediately bc ya know

why would he want to be like that with the person he’d spend the rest of his life with ??

ten leaned in close and whispered, “write your phone number down.” 

homeboy decided to shoot his shot!!

it worked, bc you quickly scribbled down your number on a piece of paper and handed it to him

the meet and greet couldn’t last forever tho and before you knew it, the staff were forcing you to leave

before you left, ten gave your hand one last squeeze and you were rushed away:(

you left feeling very ?.!

before you went to bed that night (not that you were going to bc hello?? that shit seriously happened today!!)

you got a text from an unknown number

“hey, this is ten! just wanted to say hi and that i’m glad I got to finally meet my soulmate!! also- sorry sm forces us both to get so many piercings all the time lol” 

your heart was beating out of your chest

full uwu bitch

bc yes !! 

you were ecstatic to finally meet your soulmate, the person you would spend the rest of your life with

and you were ecstatic to meet the boy with the beautiful piercings