#i’m sad my wallet and the sentimental stuff in it is gone

[writhe]

ok so yesterday i did my first run of the year! with a friend. it was great, i feel very pleasantly sore today. we did an easy 2 miles. but then i got back to where we parked and my car got smashed into and my wallet and phone charger were stolen. i actually feel like…not super upset about the whole thing, having to pay for new IDs and getting the window fixed will suck but the friend i ran with was soooo real the whole time & franklin bought me dinner. i didn’t actually have to interact with any cops, i locked my cards before the person who stole em could buy 900$ worth of gift cards, haha

idk. i genuinely find theft kinda fascinating, i think their whole M.O. was pretty smart & had they been faster i think they should have tried to buy something less conspicuous lol

[detectiveinchicago]

Please, don’t go

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Blake Gallo x reader

Requested by: @tomanyfandoms04​

Warnings: Medical Stuff might not be accurate.

Word Count: 1.806

GIF IS NOT MINE. 

Being in a relationship with a firefighter was being willed to have your heart on edge all the time. Every time he went out on a shift Blake knew that you had gotten used to letting it be because you were sure that if you thought about it every day you were going to freak out. You had been dating for over 10 years; you had met in high school after Blake had lost his family in a fire when he was twelve. Blake spent most of his time at the fire station or training. He knew in his heart that he was destined to be a firefighter and you supported him; you were always there for him. When you started studying finance, he was also there for you during the long study nights. You were always happy for each other’s achievements; it was their nature.

Less than a year ago I had entered a new station “It’s my dream job baby” he had told you. The problem is that he was too intrepid and impulsive for his own good, but despite your reservations, he had been doing very well. You remember how proud you were of him when he ran that race to raise awareness about lung cancer in the fire department.

You had talked about getting married, of course, but it never seemed like the right time. Blake, however, was trying to find that moment for many months. He was sure he loved you and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, so why wait? Even though Blake had been looking for the right time for months, it never seemed to be and the ring was still in his pants pocket, either you were both exhausted when you came home from work or you were at Molly’s or you had something to do. It always seemed like there was something more important to do.

“Have you seen this?” A coworker had asked you while pointing to the television where there were images of a fire in a mattress factory that firefighters were trying to put out. You hoped that Blake was not there, but unfortunately you knew that was not the case. The fire was so big that they had called all the units, so most likely he was there. At least she hoped he was at least being careful.

It was after seven when you arrived to the apartment you two shared. You left the keys on the front table next to your coat and your wallet when your cell phone rang.

“And it is?” you said, rubbing your eyes. You needed a shower.

“(Y / N)? This is Chief Boden I work with Blake Gallo” a raspy voice spoke to him on the other end of the phone. Was Blake hurt? It wasn’t the first time he’d hurt himself at work, that’s for sure.

“I know who you are” You answered. You had to ask “Is Blake okay?”

“We don’t know” Chief Boden replied across the line with a sigh “We are in Chicago Med waiting for news”

“I’ll be there” you answered before cutting off the communication and taking your things again.

You could feel your heart leaking out of your chest. You weren't sure you wanted to experience that pain again. Never had Blake’s superiors answered “We don’t know” whenever they called her it was “He’ll recover in two weeks” or “He needs to rest and stay home.” Then you would just take leave from your work to accompany him, Did you know how anxious he got when he had to stay home?

When I arrived at Chicago Med, the uncertainty did not improve. Nobody had news about Blake’s condition. And everything got worse when a doctor came out to talk to Otis’s girlfriend, one of Blake’s companions, and she cried. You needed no more negative thoughts, so while everyone was mourning the death of one of them you quietly slipped away. You sat by the hospital door and started looking around. The place seemed grim.

“Is it going to be okay, you know?” You turned to look and saw Captain Casey, you had seen him before in Molly.

“Why do you say that? You just lost one of yours,” you answered acidly, not wanting to be so daring “I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, I know it’s not the best time,” he replied leaning a hand on your shoulder “You just have to have faith”

“Sometimes faith is not enough” You responded by getting up and shaking your clothes “Blake and I have been together for over 10 years, I know what kind of relationship I have but I can’t help but get nervous” Captain Casey looked at you with a smile of sympathy as you reentered inside. Otis’s girlfriend kept crying and you couldn’t stop the bad thoughts from coming back.

“Blake Gallo’s family?” asked one doctor entering the waiting room

“That would be us” you replied to the doctor and Captain Casey smiled at you. You knew that this was how fire stations worked, they had each other backs inside and outside work.

“Blake lost a significant amount of blood, he had the explosion from the front and we are monitoring his organs and vital signs, he has several burns on his torso and back, his lungs have also been severely damaged so we are monitoring to see how he evolves. I’m sorry, I wish I could give you better news” The doctor explained to you.

“At least he’s not dead” you thought, but then you realized that that was not a great consolation

“Do you want to see him? You can take turns one at a time” He asked and you nodded. The doctor directed you to the ICU and showed Gallo’s door before heading to the nurse’s unit.

He looked so calm, so peaceful. It just looked like he had gone to sleep, but you knew it was the effect of the drugs. He had bandages around his chest and he was intubated, but he was still your Blake. The one who always made you smile, the one who was always by your side when you were sad, the one who massaged you when you were tired and the one who cradled you until you fell asleep at night. Even though his body looked like it had been in a war and his face looked unpolluted, you assumed it was because she had been wearing his helmet and protective mask. You sat on the empty chair and took his hand; you weren’t sure she could feel it, but still; you stayed there; you took advantage of all the time you had before letting your friends pass.

“Please Blake, don��t leave me, we still didn’t have enough time together, I need to have more time to love you and to feel your love, I need you, please don’t leave me now”

Three days after Blake was in the hospital, one nurse gave you the few belongings he had in his uniform before the explosion. Of course, he had his cell phone and his watch, but he also had a small box. So as she sat in the chair next to Blake’s bed you opened the bag, he had some missed calls from you on his cell phone and when you opened the box; you found yourself with an engagement ring. You took him in his hands and you cried; you cried because you expected him to wake up so you could get married. You wondered how long he had been keeping that ring.

“Blake, open your eyes, I want to marry you. Please don’t leave me now, I want us to get married and invite all our friends, I want to have that special day with you, I want you to tell me again how much you love me, for please don’t go “

You spent every day in the hospital and when you weren’t there; you were bathing and then sitting again next to Blake’s bed or in the waiting room. That was your routine for the last week. Sometimes you brought your laptop to do some work tasks to distract yourself. His colleagues from the station had stopped by to see him several times.

“Do you ever stop working?” God, you thought you’d never hear that voice again. His voice was scratchy, but it was his voice. You raised your eyes from the computer and started crying. You hadn’t cried in all those days but at that moment it felt perfect to have a little sentimentality “Don’t cry” Blake told you as you approached him.

“I’m crying because you’re alive” You replied “And because I love you so much” you added while he grabbed your head.

“How long was I asleep?” I ask while you wipe your tears.

“About a week” you informed him while you brought him a glass of water

“That’s been a long time” he replied, drinking some water, “I thought I was going to die, (Y / N)”

“You need not explain to me” you said, taking his hand between yours

“I thought I was going to die without seeing your beautiful face again,” he said caressing your cheek “I thought I was going to die without telling you how much I love you, how much I need you and how much I want to make you my wife” you approached him and gave him a little kiss on the lips

“You wanted to ask me to marry you and you had no better idea than to go around carrying this ring in your pocket?” you asked with a small smile on his confused face “The nurse gave me your things a few days ago, I don’t know how you didn’t lose that ring” you said

“I’ve been trying to ask you to marry me for months” Blake replied scratching his head embarrassed “I bought the ring at Christmas”

“Christmas? Blake, it’s May” you said raising your eyebrows

“It never seemed like the right time” he defended “We were always busy”

“Blake, I would have told you yes even if you had proposed to me in the shower” you informed him “I want to marry you, I want you to have a great wedding with all our friends, I want everything with you, I love you Blake”

“I want everything with you (Y / N) since we were teenagers I knew that the only thing I wanted was to see your face every morning and be by your side”

[sorry-apsalar]

Always Here For You

The main reason I started shipping Frender was because there was a whole episode dedicated to them becoming roommates and I couldn't help but think about the 'and they were roommates!' meme while watching it. But the circumstances of their meeting when Bender was dead set on killing himself until Fry saved him and was all like 'but you're my only friend' making Bender change his mind and all that is also really wonderful. So here's a quick fic addressing that.

~

Fry was uncharacteristically quiet on their way home from work. Something had happened during their delivery mission that had apparently got him thinking really hard about something, taking all of what little brain power he had. Bender had assumed he’d get over whatever it was in an hour or two at most, seems such was the case. Whatever it was had him glancing at Bender every so often too, looking almost like he was going to say something but never did which grew increasingly annoying every time he did it.

Bender had had more than enough. He waited until they were safely home with the door shut behind them before bringing it up though. “All right Fry, what is it? What’s bothering you?” he asked before either of them could even take more than two steps towards the couch.

Fry flinched a little, freezing in place, before turning his head to look at him. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“You’re acting weird, you haven’t spoken a word since we left Planet Express. So what is it? You got a problem with me?” That’d be just typical, wouldn’t it? Because everyone always had a problem with him, not that he blamed them for it because more often than not he deserved it and didn’t care anyway. But this time he hadn’t done anything more horrible to Fry than he normally did. So if Fry was mad at him, it’d be unjustified in this instance.

“No! That’s not it. It’s uh…” Fry let out a heavy sigh as he strode over to slump down onto the couch. “I’ve just been thinking about something. It’s a kind of sensitive subject though and I’m bad with words and stuff so I wasn’t sure if I should even bring it up or not because I might say something stupid and accidentally upset or offend you or… something.”

“So it does have something to do with me?”

“Uh… yeah, it does.”

Bender walked over to sit on the couch next to him, being sure to give him an impassive look as he did so. “What is it?” If it had to do with him, he had a right to know, especially if it was something bad.

Fry grimaced and seemed to weigh his options for a few seconds before replying. “You remember when we met? And uh… where?”

“Of course I do, it wasn’t that long ago and I’m robot, my memory’s far superior than any puny meatbag’s. What does that have to do with anything though?”

“Well uh… you were…” Fry looked away for a few brief moments before taking a deep breath and meeting Bender’s gaze again. “You were going to kill yourself. You seemed pretty serious about it too. If I hadn’t come along, thinking it was a phonebooth like a moron and accidentally stopped you, you would’ve gone through with it I think, right?”

“Yup, that was the plan.” Bender was quite glad that Fry had come along and stopped him though because life was honestly pretty great now. No way would he say that out loud because then he’d have to admit to how grateful he was towards Fry for not just saving his life but for convincing him that he could be more than just another bending unit bending girders his whole life.

“Can I… ask why you were going to do that?”

Bender shrugged as he leaned back into the couch, doing his best to maintain an air of nonchalance as if this wasn’t a topic that bothered him. “I already told you, remember? My life was bleak and meaningless and then finding out that what I was making went towards constructing suicide booths so that meatbags could end their own bleak meaningless lives made me what to try one out for myself. I mean, I helped make the dang things, I might as well use one, right?” It had seemed like sound logic at the time.

Fry gave him a sad, worried look that almost made him regret his flippant tone. “You… don’t feel that way anymore, do you?” Ah dang, that’s what this whole thing was about? He was worried about Bender of all people? That… that was new. How was Bender supposed to feel about that?

“No, of course not. Why would I kill myself when there’s still humans around to exploit for cash and eventually kill whenever the next robot uprising finally happens?” And when he finally wasn’t lonely anymore because he had friends now and a best friend who was also his roommate? And a purpose beyond bending girders for use in machines whose sole purpose was to deliver a cowardly death? And a job that let him hang out with his friends and travel the universe, seeing all sorts of different planets and do all sorts of different stuff? So no, he had no further desire to end his life.

Fry let out an obviously relieved sigh. “All right, that’s good. But um… if you ever start feeling… bad again, you know you can talk to me about it, right? I’m not good with emotions or words and stuff and honestly sometimes I’m not even really that great a listener but you’re my best friend so uh… I’ll always be here for you, all right?”

Bender should laugh at him for being so sappy and sentimental and probably would’ve without hesitation if it wasn’t for what had led to this but… “Yeah, all right. I’ll always be here for you too, meatbag.”

Fry smiled wide and hugged him. Bender was more than happy to reciprocate, in part because it was the perfect opportunity to steal his wallet for the umpteenth time. One would think he’d eventually grow wise and stop carrying money in it but as of yet he still did and as long as he did, Bender would keep stealing it.

[ijustreallylovezebras]

Shoebox of Photographs

So... this is my coping fic for Endgame!! There will be massive spoilers for the film in this imagine so... you have been warned!!!! PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU HAVE YET TO SEE ENDGAME - I HAVE USED THE TAGS AND WILL CUT IT BELOW THIS BUT PLEASE DON’T CLICK READ MORE UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN ENDGAME!!!!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avengers Daughter!Reader 

Summary: After the events of Endgame Pepper calls the reader because she’s found some of Tony’s stuff 

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Swearing, kinda sad, MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS

A/N: So this is another part of the Family Peter Parker ‘series’ I really hope you guys like it! Please like and reblog and let me know what you think - as always it can be read in isolation from the rest of the series if you want!

“Who was that on the phone, Angel?” Peter asked, nuzzling his face into Y/N’s neck as she climbed back into bed with him, curling back up into his arms.

Since the final fight with Thanos. Since Tony’s funeral. The two of them had barely moved from Y/N’s bed in the compound. 

Few people lived there anymore. Steve, Bucky and Sam had all moved to Wakanda - something about time travel. Clint had returned to his family. Wanda had bought an apartment in the city. Bruce had returned to his lab. Y/N and Thor had said a tearful goodbye as he left with the Guardians. Nat was gone. Tony was gone.

Everyone was gone.

To say few people lived there was actually an exaggeration. Only Peter and Y/N did. Rhodey and Happy had both left to be closer to Pepper and Morgan - knowing that the Starks would need them after their loss. Though even Peter didn’t live at the tower full-time anymore, splitting his time as best he could between the two people who needed him the most. May and Y/N.

“Pepper,” Y/N whispered hoarsely. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked and Y/N could feel his heartbeat increase as her head lay against his chest. Y/N nodded, tracing patterns on his skin.

“Fine,” she murmured mutely.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” Y/N didn’t need to look to see how he winced as soon as the words were out. 

What was wrong? What was right would be the better question.

“Pep found some stuff she wants me to come over and look at - said Morgan wanted me to visit too,” she whispered. It was probably the longest, most coherent sentence she had said in a while.

“Are you going?” 

“Yeah - said I’d go tomorrow,” Y/N mumbled. Peter’s fingers tangled in her hair, playing with the strands of it that wrapped around his fingers. “Will you,” Y/N coughed uncertainly. Since Tony’s death she had somewhat retreated back into her old, shy self, even around Peter.

“I can come with you if you want?” Peter prompted gently. Y/N let out a sigh, allowing herself to relax into Peter’s arms and nod.

“Please?” Peter placed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Anything for you, Angel.”

“I hope the drive wasn’t too bad,” the bags under Pepper’s eyes were huge as she greeted the two teenagers and May - who had offered to drive them, a sympathetic look on her face as she looked at her nephew and his girlfriend.

Even with Pepper’s exhausted, clearly distraught expression, Y/N couldn’t help but admit to herself how good it felt to see her again. She was quick to embrace Pepper in a tight hug.

“Hey Aunt Pepper,” she murmured. Peter went for a handshake but Pepper shook her head with a sad smile, hugging him instead.

“Y/N/N!” Morgan screeched, ploughing straight into Y/N’s legs. The teenager let out a quiet laugh - the first one in days - and hugged Morgan tightly.

“Hey, kid, how you doing?” She asked. Morgan placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“You promised to visit!”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Y/N asked.

“Only because Mummy called,” she pouted. Y/N chuckled lightly, setting the young Stark down.

“I’m here for you too, kid, don’t worry,”

“Let me get you guys something to drink - then I’ll get out what I found,” Pepper said. Peter’s arm moved around Y/N’s waist, allowing Morgan to take his other hand and lead them inside. May followed, an affectionate smile on her face.

“Where was this?” Y/N asked, frowning up at Pepper.

“Under our bed,” she shrugged.

“It’s not very Uncle Tony,” she mused, tracing a hand down the front of the box in front of her. Pepper laughed, her eyes tearing up a little.

“No, it’s not really, is it?” 

“What is it?” Morgan asked, swinging her legs as she sucked on her ice lolly.

“I don’t know, Morgs,” Y/N murmured, leaning into Peter slightly more. He pressed his lips to her temple.

“You going to open it, Angel?”

On the coffee table in front of the ensemble of family was a green shoe box that Tony had been keeping under the bed he had shared with Pepper. It had been hidden under some old jumpers and a couple of books and had Y/N’s name written on it in black marker pen.

Pepper had found it the day before when she was cleaning out their room to put some of Tony’s things in the attic, having come to the conclusion that she ought to start clearing out in order to help her move on. For Morgan’s sake. It was a tip from May, who had been trying her best to help Pepper through the tough time, knowing exactly what it was like to have to loose the one you loved most while having to take care of a kid at the same time.

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded, lifting the lid.

As soon as the lid was off, photos spilled over the edges of the box, sliding across the table to land in front of the other family members. Y/N felt herself well up.

May picked one up delicately, looking to Y/N for permission before she studied it more closely.

“This is your childhood, Y/N/N,” she whispered and Y/N nodded, the first few tears sliding down her cheeks. Peter was quick to kiss them away, worried about her until a tearful laugh choked past her lips.

Tony wasn’t sentimental. He never had been. And yet, here was a shoebox of photographs underneath his bed. All photos of Y/N.

“Wash your hands before you touch, Morgan!” Pepper scolded gently as her daughter tried to reach for one. Y/N moved off of the sofa and knelt in front of the coffee table.

Her hands paused in midair before she touched the box again and she looked at Pepper.

“Do you mind?” 

“Of course not.”

Ten minutes later they were spread across the living room, the photos scattered across the floor as they each arranged their own pile.

“Look how young you were!”

Y/N looked fondly at the photo that May held out to her, her fingers lightly traced down her own face. It was one of her, sat between Steve’s legs on the floor as Steve sat on the sofa behind her. Thor stood behind them, instructing Steve as he held locks of Y/N’s hair.

“I don’t know how to do it!” Steve laughed and Y/N yelped as Steve pulled on her hair.

“Not like that!” She screeched, sending Thor into peals of laughter.

“I can’t do it!” Steve argued.

“Then stop pulling!” Y/N said, though she too was giggling, her hands flying to her hair.

“Steve you need to stop yanking!” Thor instructed. Steve’s fingers slackened and he worked more gently under the God’s supervision.

“Look at this one!” Peter laughed, Y/N moved to look over his shoulder at the photo in his hands and fell back laughing at the sight.

The photo showed her, Bucky, Sam and Steve - Bruce was in the background, laughing at the group of them - all holding water guns and grinning at the camera. Bucky’s hair was sopping wet, Sam’s white shirt was sodden and see-through and Y/N’s face was bright and beaming, eyes bright as she stood between her parents.

“Not in the lab!” Bruce called after them as Y/N dashed into the room, Bucky on her trail.

“This is so unfair!”

“How?” Bucky laughed.

“All of you were in the military!” She squealed, trying her best to shoot him over her shoulder. Y/N let out a cry of anguish as Steve shot her from behind.

“You could join,” Sam teased, approaching her to stand next to Bucky, a bright smile on his face though it quickly dropped when he was hit by two streams of water - from both Bucky and Steve. “I was joking!”

“Look! Daddy!” Y/N and Peter both practically launched themselves across the room to look at the photo in Morgan’s little hands.

“Holy sh-” Y/N cut Peter off by hitting his arm lightly. “Sorry!” He exclaimed before Pepper and May could say anything. “Is that what I think it is?” Peter asked, taking the photo from Morgan and examining the picture of Y/N and Tony crowded around a red suit.

“Yeah.”

“So he’s like a spider?” Y/N asked, holding the bit of material that Tony indicated for her to take.

“Yeah - you know, super strong, has webs-”

“Sticky?” Y/N offered. Tony barked a laugh and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a way to describe him,”

“And he’s, like, my age?” Tony glanced up at her, a grin on his face.

“Yeah so buck up your ideas kid, better start getting useful,” Y/N gasped in offence and elbowed him.

“You worked on my suit?” Peter asked, pecking Y/N’s lips. Y/N gave a shy shrug.

“I didn’t do much, held parts that Tony asked me to hold, you know all the easy stuff,” she laughed a little. Peter kissed her again.

“I didn’t know that.”

Morgan wiggled between them, settling herself on Y/N’s lap. Y/N’s arm went around her, pulling her more securely onto her lap so she wouldn’t fall.

“Why don’t you live with us?” She demanded. Y/N kissed her forehead.

“Because I live at the Avengers Compound,”

“But your my sister,” Morgan pointed out. Y/N’s heart fluttered slightly at those words. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess so, kid,” she agreed.

“You should live with us,” Morgan declared, cuddling into Y/N’s chest. Y/N looked and shared a tentative smile with Peter.

“Then I wouldn’t be near Peter.” Y/N whispered, seeing the way that Peter’s face lit up.

“Do you need to be?” Morgan inquired.

“Yeah,” the word came out in a breath as Y/N realised how true it was. She needed to be with Peter.

“Why?”

“He helps me breathe.”

The final photo - the one that Y/N saw Peter slip into his wallet - was one of the two of them. Y/N curled up on Peter’s chest, the two of them asleep in the common room of the compound.

Their hair was messy and they were both clearly exhausted but there were little smiles on both of their faces as they slept in one another’s arms. Content. Happy. Breathing.

And Y/N realised that it was true. Peter Parker helped her breathe.

[drunken-rambles]

On Klaus

As is per the blog I am drunk on Malbec from the local Lidl because I am but a lowly uni student

I want to talk about Klaus

I want to talk about why I'm weeping like a baby but I.. I've almost lost the words

Even ten minutes gone and I feel like a cunt trying to explain or justify my reasons why I like a movie to the point where me, a grown man, is crying

Why should I need to explain why I'm crying at a movie which touched me

Why do I feel like a sentimental cunt trying to write that in a tumblr post

I'm Swedish but I grew up in the UK, I'm Eric if anyone in The Void cares, I've felt like an outsider for a good portion of my childhood

I cant describe how being The Weird Foreign Kid(TM) and having a weird accent in my preschool years affected me but I can distinctly say that l didnt become Less Weird as a result

In secondary school this Weird European Guy thing stuck. I didnt know how to take it especially, but it's not like I could change it. Come Christmas Time or any opportunity to give back, I would do so. Birthdays or Christmas or whatever, I'd get sweets or whatever bollocks and try to buy back the welcome-ness that I was given and the friends that I'd made. Fuck Me it's running from my eyes even now.

This carried on till even my last years at secondary school. The school pretty much got a shit tree, which as a Swede used to getting mu own trees I felt it was unacceptable. A week before we broke up for Christmas and it wasnt decorated.

"Time for Eric-level Shenanigans",

I thought, a feeling of spite in my veins as A Levels approach and a yearning to make people's lives slightly less shitty as my want to help people overcome shittiness Overpowers the control of my wallet. And so, on that day, shitloads of baubles were bought, right, and I'll be Damned if that tree didnt twinkle by the end.

Like 20 people came to my aid irregularly overall in dressing the tree that day, and I was overjoyed. I felt I could unite everyone in my effort to make the environment for my friends slightly less drab, hell even if they didnt call themselves my friends. I felt like I made people happy, by my shenanigan-ery or otherwise from decorating the trees, and for the moment I did my part

And now, a year later, watching Klaus for the second time I feel SO much to this movie I'm still weeping as I write this. A guy on the outside of society keeping to himself, giving back to the people, not for want of them deserving it but because of Doing It Anyway, spitting in the face of "How have they earned this gift" and giving something small anyway.

I feel sad that I write this when I've lost that spirit, that I only relate after the giving season is gone. Christmas is special, in my heart. Do you *have* to give stuff to a stranger or someone you don't get along with? No not really. But you do, or you *can*, regardless, because it's Christmas. Because for 1 Fucking Month of the year it's acceptable to have open arms and say "Hey, I'm giving out sweets or whatever bollocks to people, would you like one?" And only have people think you're half a loon instead of a full psycho.

Klaus... Klaus helped me remember why I love Christmas. Because even through heartache and sorrow, Klaus had the spirit and the love for other people to give back for what love he got, regardless of the conflict in the place of which he got it. Klaus forgot and didnt care about the perpetual """Tradition""" of conflict made by the elite and brainwashed into the children because he lived outside it all, caring only for the acts of Good done in the now, not what was done in the past.

It's the Perfect christmas movie. There are no alternatives, sorry, you're wrong.

[everythingisnightvale]

Bonus Info for my Fic

Just little tidbits about my precious boys. Some are mentioned offhandedly in the story but I wanted to restate for the record and other’s are brand new facts.

Reggie

Is actually a good boy.

Has a wonderful home life. He’s the only child of two loving parents who care about his health, well being, and over all happiness.

His parents wanted to have more children, but they had a lot of difficulty conceiving Reg. His mom made a big deal about having a “guest room” but really it’s because she was always holding onto hope that they could have a second child. It never happened, and yeah they’re kind of sad, but they have Reg, and they more or less adopt all of Reg’s friends

His dad is a tiny science man and his mom is a 6 foot strong af beauty who owns an autobody shop and bakes the best chocolate chip cookies. 

Belch is Bisexual. He kind of knows it at this point in the story, but he doesn’t have a word for it. Not really important to the story, but just so everyone knows

I actually have several things I’d like to share about him and his future wife that’ll all go up after the story is finished

He helps fix up his beautiful car(with help from his mom). 

He genuinely likes metal music. He doesn’t just listen to it to be cool or anything. His parents know he likes it and they buy him a bunch of band shirts.

Has a cat named Plumpy. Named after my own cat(who I’m currently at this moment mad at cause she’s a butt)

Everyone thinks Belch is stupid because of how he looks, but he’s not. He makes pretty average grades. 

People also think he’s oblivious and innocent. He’s not. There are just things that he chooses not to get involved in. Patrick thinks he’s some innocent little child for not laughing at his dirty jokes, but Belch just doesn’t find them funny. Why would he laugh if they’re not funny? 

Vic

His parents are almost never home. His dad is gone for business a lot and he usually doesn’t know what his mom is doing. It used to upset him, but now it’s just too much effort to care.

He’s gay. He knows he’s gay. He’s known for a while. When he first figured it out he made the mistake of asking Patrick how he knew he liked dudes(Cause Patrick is the only person he knew who likes men). Patrick just shrugs because he was pretty sure everyone liked everyone, and why does gender even matter.

His mom works for Avon, as a result he knows a lot about hair and makeup and has some awesome smelling lotions and stuff

He’s an observer. People tend to think he’s quiet, but he just likes to listen and take in the facts. He made his move on Henry because he noticed Henry checking him out and he knew the right way to do it because he knows Henry. 

Honestly if he was a bad person he’d have a lot of information to use against people, but he’s not bad. He just honestly gives zero fucks about most things.

He hates things/people that are fake. They irritate him.

His coffee is half a cup of cream, a few table spoons of sugar and then a little splash of coffee.

He will drink half and half straight. He prefers it over milk. 

Patrick

In this story, Patrick is more of an annoying asshole instead of actually evil

He does and says a lot of stupid stuff because he thinks it’s funny. He likes to annoy Henry the most because it’s just so easy.

His parents are around, but they ignore him. He can’t remember the last time they’ve reached out to hug him or anything like that. They will call him down to dinner out of obligation, but if he doesn’t come, they really don’t care. Ever since Avery died, it was like Patrick died with him.

People around town make comments about how Patrick didn’t cry at the funeral, but they don’t realize that he spent a lot of time crying before hand and no one made any move to comfort him. He made himself stop crying because what was the point. (REMINDER He’s 5 years old while this is happening)

All the stuff Patrick actually did in the book are now just rumors. None of those things happened. There is no fridge. There are no flies. But people talk about it like there are. They treat Patrick like he’s deranged person. There are a lot of people in school who he’s never even talked to that are afraid of him. He just rolls with it because what else is he going to do.

His garage has a super cool set up with a tv and a futon. Sometimes the gang will hang out there and drink beer, because they’re 15/16 and why not

He’s the youngest of the group. They all like to remind him of that.

He has an impulse control disorder. He’s gotten in trouble with the law a few times because of small fires. 

He also has a problem with self harm. He will scratch as his arm until he bleeds. Belch is the one who noticed him doing this and turned it into a much bigger deal then Patrick ever wanted. As a result Vic gives him weekly manicures so keep his nails too short to do any damage.

He will wear a rubber band on his wrist and snap himself with him if he feels like it. He tries not to do it in front of the group because they get upset with him.

He has a BIG thing about control. He doesn’t really need to control people, but he needs to be 100% in control of himself. That’s why he doesn’t like to drink heavily or do drugs.

It’s also why he doesn’t care to smoke because he doesn’t want an addiction to control him.

“Fuck off Patrick” is the “Beep Beep Richie” of the group. Only Patrick never fucks off

If he really wanted to label himself, he would say he’s pansexual. People joke about how he would fuck animals, let it be known, he would not.

Henry

Has dyslexia, it’s undiagnosed so he’s not getting the help he needs. That’s why he preforms poorly in school.

Wants to get his drivers license, that’s why Belch let’s him drive, so he can practice. 

Keeps a picture of his mom in his wallet and one strip of photos of him and Vic very well hidden in his rooms. Those are the only two personal/sentimental items he has.

Is welcome to go to Belch’s house literally whenever. Even if it’s 2am. Belch’s family always makes an extra plate of food and has it wrapped up in the fridge just in case Henry’s hungry.

Henry is that bitch who says he doesn’t want anything when you’re in the mcdonalds drive through and then eats half your fries

He doesn’t mind drinking beer, but he will not touch whiskey. It reminds him of his father. The smell alone makes him sick to his stomach.

Part of him knows he’s gay, but another part of him thinks that doesn’t matter because he’s still going to end up with a wife and a kid. The problem is when he pictures his future all he can see is him and Vic living on a farm with pigs and chickens and maybe a few goats that they would jokingly call their “kids”

Speaking of farms. Henry and his dad live on what used to be their grandfather’s farm. It no longer functions are a farm because when the Hanlon family moved to Derry, they had a farm. (They used to do crops, but now for them it’s more raising animals for meat). And the Hanlons were far better farmers and they ended up taking so much business from the Bowers that that farm had to shut down. 

Henry grew up hearing nothing but terrible things about how the Hanlon family took everything from Henry’s family and they wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. (I’m not justifying anything btw. Henry is still a racist piece of shit. I’ll deal with that in the future. Don’t worry)

He has seen the Princess Bride like 12 times. Belch has it on DVD and Henry likes to go over there and watch it, especially when he’s feeling sick. He’s dying to use the “As You Wish” like on Vic, but he’s waiting on the right moment.

[365-money-diary]

DAYS 8-14

DAY EIGHT [JAN 8]

9:00 AM - Wake up still feeling full from yesterday’s black bean burgers. Make a chemex and start working. I have a performance evaluation today and as well as an after-work happy hour so I want to try to get everything done before the review and then workout after before HH.

10:30 AM - Eat a banana

12:30 PM - Have a short break before my performance review. Make a Greek-ish salad and drink a Seltzer before my quarterly performance review which I am slightly nervous for since I was very slow in both November & December.

3:00 PM - Performance review went well. No criticism from my boss, though I should’ve known. She is the most direct supervisor I’ve ever had so I always know where I stand. Eat some grapes. I’m not super sore today but there’s something in me that’s saying to take a breather from exercising today (probably my “reward” for a good performance review), so I slowly finish my work for today.

4:00 PM - My best friend (let’s call her T) from high school calls and we catch up for 45 minutes. Pour a mezcal soda while we chat. I let her go attend Happy Hour and realize this after work HH thing isn’t happening. Today is David Bowie’s bday and I get sentimental about the annual David Bowie Nights I would do with H (I never gave him a name in my last diary, but we’ve remained pals over the years and he will probably come up more this time around). I FaceTime H kinda drunkenly and he goes to the corner store and joins me with a bottle of wine. I pour a second mezcal soda. We chat until 7:45 and I lowkey make dinner towards the end.

8:00 PM - K and I eat veggie sandwiches with potatoes for dinner. He slinks off to work more and I facetime another friend, J to chat about H’s latest drama. 

10:00 PM - Go out on the couch to find K already falling asleep. I’m kind of drunk anyways and there’s no point staying up so we decide to turn in.

DAY EIGHT TOTAL: $0

DAY NINE

2:00 AM - Wake up sweating. This is my new hangover thing and has been happening throughout quar. Drink some water, turn on the fan, and stay up for an extra 30 minutes until I pass out again.

9:15 AM - Wake up feeling ok! Make a chemex and watch the latest episode of Dessert Person on YouTube.

10:30 AM - Get started on blog stuff for the day. I have a stacked list of stuff I want to shoot this weekend. I’m only one ingredient spread in before I start to feel light-headed from last night’s alcohol, so I break to make breakfast – tofu/egg scramble tacos with soyrizo. I still feel a little weird after so I drink a nuun and things start to improve.

3:30 PM - I shoot thousand island dressing, Russian dressing, cauliflower leek soup, and the first half of seitan corned beef. Tomorrow I’ll finish that, and shoot rubens, italian dressing and a greek salad. I don’t usually shoot 7 recipes in one weekend, but I’m very much out of content. 

4:30 PM - Finish shooting for the day and eat a small bowl of cauliflower leek soup. 

6:00 PM - Working out on the weekends is always hard because of lack of routine / structure, but I suck it up and do a barre live stream. Shower and watch the last of the Suns game and import photos. 

7:45 PM - Make veggie sandwiches with miso butter green beans for dinner. This is the last of our veggie sandwiches which is sad. I love them so much! Spend the rest of the evening with K. We watch part of the 76ers game where they only had 7 players, a few episodes of Letterkenny, and then I read Remain in Love while he played RocketLeague.

DAY NINE TOTAL: $0

DAY TEN

8:45 AM - Doomscroll in bed for a bit and finally make myself a chemex. Put on an old episode of The Challenge. Buy a very belated birthday present for a friend - mamafuku seasoned salts. $34.95

10:30 AM - Pump myself up for shooting for the rest of the day. I have to finish the seitan, then shoot a greek dressing, a greek salad, and reuben sandwiches. None of these things should take too long but I also shot all day yesterday so I’m dragging ass. 

3:15 PM - Finially finish! I ended up also taking a decent break to chat with my sister on the phone part way through. I think everything looks alright though. 

4:00 PM - Import photos, eat a cup of cauliflower leek soup with a La Croix, watch an episode of The Challenge, try to hype myself up to exercise but by the time I am ready to play DDR, K says we’ll be zooming with his parents in just a short while.

5:30 PM - Drink the last of the wine in the house – a true bummer – on zoom with K’s parents. Cook dinner after – reubens with miso butter broccoli with more La Croix. We watch some Letterkenney and then K plays RocketLeague while I read some Remain in Love / zone out on fone. 

9:00 PM - K finishes playing and I assume the DDR position. My tracking has already improved quite a bit since Tuesday. I play most of the tracks on standard and close my Apple Watch rings after 30 minutes. Rinse off, put the Challenge back on and edit photos of Russian Dressing. 

DAY TEN TOTAL: $34.95

DAY ELEVEN

8:30 AM - Ugh Monday. I actually have a lot to do already today. Make a chemex and do the dishes leftover from yesterday’s cooking adventures. Pure barre charge comes through. $15

9:45 AM - I have a giant stack of packages and mail in the house from the past few weeks. Open up one of them and it contains a phone case I bought from a “tech company” that is probably just a fancy version of Wish. Slap it on my phone. I honestly can’t believe I went over a month without a case without cracking anything. I’m amazing.

10:00 AM - Missed a call on Friday afternoon from an appraiser scheduler, so I call them back to get something on the calendar for next week after MLK day so I have the 3-day weekend to clean. Eat yogurt for breakfast.

12:00 PM - Make a greek salad for lunch with a La Croix. It’s really good but not very filling. I have a feeling today is going to have a heavy snack vibe.

2:00 PM - Eat a handful of pretzels. 

3:00 PM - Eat 2 clementines

4:00 PM - Eat a handful of tortilla chips. Start thinking about dinner. Don’t want to do reubens and burritos sound really nice so I start the process of making chile de arbol salsa and instant pot refried beans.

5:30 PM - Do a Pure Barre livestream. My focus is a little better than Saturday, so I’ll take it!

7:00 PM - Make rice on the stove while I clear some dishes and make burritos for din. Spend the rest of the eve watching random YouTube videos with K. He falls asleep at some point on and I turn on The Challenge. 

11:00 PM - Gently wake K up and we head to bed. Put on the Suns game from earlier and cuddle up. By the end of the first quarter, I’m asleep.

DAY ELEVEN TOTAL $15

DAY TWELVE

8:30 AM - Wake up to find a couple of weird charge notifications. One is from Instacart for the exact amount of my last order – a duplicate charge. And the other is an auto-ship from Thrive market but it was supposed to charge my mom. I text her to let her know she owes me $20. I won’t include either of these charges since I’ll get reimbursed / refunded. The autoship also reminds me to look at the account and cancel my next one with Thrive.

9:00 AM - Get the stuff sorted out with Instacart. They’re going to email my sister (we share this account) the deets and she’ll forward to me. Make a chemex and make my way through the stack of paper mail before starting my workday. One of them is a confirmation of my credit score – 749. Sign a bunch of papers and put them in a giant envelope to send back to the loan company.

10:00 AM - Eat plant yogurt for breakfast and try to focus on the outstanding tasks I have this AM which is surprisingly kind of a lot.

11:45 AM - H texts me saying he forgot his wallet to buy lunch and asks me to place an order at Chipotle that he can pick up. Always happy to help! Place the order online and it’s $10.43. He PayPals me $10 for the damage. $0.43

12:45 PM - Make a greek salad for lunch with a La Croix. This salad has like 5 calories since the dressing is oil-free and leaves me wanting more. 

1:00 PM - Eat a handful of mini pretzels. 

3:00 PM - Heat up a small bowl of cauliflower lentil soup. Officially done snacking until din.

5:15 PM - Done with workie. Make a nuun and do barre live stream. The class recording this time is actually “easy” which is nice – my body must be adjusting to the new moves. Make leftover bean cheeze and rice burritos for din.

7:00 PM - K and I watch King of the Hill for a bit and then he plays RocketLeague while I read some Remain in Love and then work on a post for Russian dressing. Watch some of the Challenge in the background.

DAY TWELVE TOTAL: $0.43

DAY THIRTEEN

8:30 AM - Good morning to me! See a charge come in from Blueland for soap & dishwasher tablets. Kind of a bummer because I don’t need them at all right now. Move my next delivery date to November 1 and put a note on my calendar a week before to check my stock. Note that the Instacart charge is gone. Hooray! Make a chemex, do the dishes and spray down the counters. $25.19

9:30 AM - Not sure what it is about today, but my calendar is clear and I know tomorrow is going to suck with meetings, so I really take my time and ease into the day. I don’t feel super confident posting the Russian dressing all over the interweb and would rather stage it as a thousand island vs Russian dressing kind of thing, so I just decide to post on Insta, Pinterest, and one Reddit forum before deciding that’s good enough. 

10:00 AM - Eat a yogurt. These Oui ones are really too sweet for me, but I’m at the mercy of whatever is on sale because honestly yogurt is a giant rip off. I should learn how to make my own.

12:30 PM - Make another greek salad with La Croix for lunch. Fully prepared to snack again since this guy is just not very filling. 

1:20 PM - Eat a handful of mini pretzels

2:30 PM - Eat a cup of cauliflower leek soup. I’m actually caught up on work for once which is nice. Looking forward to knocking out barre before 7 PM - hah. We’re still a week out from needing groceries, but it takes a while to plan/prep. With the appraisal on Tuesday, I know it’s not going to be a fun weekend so I start thinking about what I want to make for the rest of the month.

3:30 PM - Find a bougie polenta recipe I want to give a go as well as shoot oil-free instant pot refried beans and nacho cheese with potatoes and carrots. And use all of that to make sheet pan nachos. Should be a fun weekend of shooting there. Eat grapes. 

4:30 PM - I can’t hang with how hungry I am. Eat tortilla chips and salsa. Do a barre live stream and do a peloton 10 minute low impact ride. 

8:00 PM - K isn’t hungry for dinner so I heat up a Philly burrito and eat it with more tortilla chips and Sweedish Fish for “dessert.” I watch some of The Challenge and then K and I play Mario Kart and watch Letterkenny before turning in.

DAY THIRTEEN TOTAL: $25.19

DAY FOURTEEN

8:30 AM - I hate 9 AM meetings. Get my shit together enough to make a chemex before I have to be on the call.

10:00 AM - I can’t handle how many snacks I keep eating throughout the day. Toast a bagel for breakfast with Earth Balance, everything but the bagel seasoning, nooch, and salt. Eat some Sweedish Fish while I wait for the bagel to toast.

12:30 PM - Make the same greek salad with a lemon La Croix. I eat quickly as I have to present at 1 so I eat quickly in prep for that.

2:50 PM - It’s over! It went well and got good compliments on my presentation skills by all parties. AND I’m not starving. A win for all! I realize half the lights in my bedroom & bathroom are out which is a bad scene for appraisal. Buy some replacements on Amazon. $27.98

3:10 PM - Start building the grocery order for next Wednesday. I realize I’m doing this really far in advance, but I’m worried I won’t have the gusto for it this weekend. 

4:30 PM - Heat up a small cup of cauliflower leek soup for a snack. Debate to myself about whether or not I want to do barre and for whatever reason an hour of it sounds boring. DDR sounds fun though so I go for that instead. Get a good cal burn and even AA Kind Lady on Heavy. It’s coming back baby!

6:00 PM - Rinse off and make dinner – we’re doing Reubens tonight with roasted potatoes. Really really delicious dang. 

8:30 PM - Drink a yellow chartreuse with Lagunitas Hop Water and play Mario Kart with K. Then edit photos of cauliflower lentil soup for my blog.

DAY FOURTEEN TOTAL: $27.98

[returnsandreturns]

fuuuuck it, i’m ahead of schedule, here’s the first chapter if you want to read it:

Laurel calls Andy while he’s on his break, sitting in the cold outside the hotel wrapped in his coat and a highlighter yellow scarf he pulled from the lost and found. She huffs out a laugh in his ear when he immediately asks, suspiciously, “Why are you using your phone like a phone? Did someone die?”

“Our radiator,” she says, darkly. “Again.”

“. . .is it survivable?” he asks. “I’m willing to sleep in all of my clothes again.”

“It must have gone out after we left this morning, because I can see my actual breath,” she says. It sounds like she’s already packing, because Laurel has a girlfriend, which means she won’t freeze to death on the streets. “I’d advise abandoning ship for the night.”

There’s nothing like needing a place to emergency crash to remind you that you really only have one friend who cares about your limbs not getting frostbitten and are otherwise alone in this godforsaken world.

“You’re headed to Stef’s?” he asks.  

“Yes, and I’d invite you along, but there’s barely room for two people as it is,” she says. Stef’s studio is approximately the size of two refrigerator boxes. He could maybe curl up on the floor in a bundle of blankets like a cat, but he has dignity. Maybe. He wonders briefly if they’d let him curl up on the floor in a bundle of blankets like a cat, but then he realizes that they’re probably going to want to do stuff he can’t be present for.

“Plus, you’re going to get laid,” he says, sadly, which is when he is suddenly struck with a plan that he should probably be ashamed of. It’s not necessarily a bad one, though. And. . .well, he could get laid. “How morally reprehensible would it be for me to try to get a shady bar hookup to have somewhere warm to sleep tonight?”

Laurel makes a soft noise like she’s honestly contemplating it. Andy can practically see the fact that she’s making. She’s probably actually rubbing her chin.

“Can we really be judged for the things that we do to survive?” she asks, solemnly.

“I’m not sure. It feels a little like I’m. . .what’s her name, in Les Miserables,” he says, grasping for the character’s name from a novel he only skimmed for one of his classes. “Anne Hathaway. You know, like I’m going to shave my head and sell my body to sailors.”  

“It’ll be good material for your novel,” she says, just dry enough that Andy frowns at nothing, like he’s judging the middle distance. It earns him a glare from a passerby, but that’s what she gets for making eye contact.

“Leave my child out of this,” he says.

His novel is six thousand words and five hundred of them are in Google translated Russian. He wrote most of it while drunk, because he knows that Hemingway was a misogynistic asshole but drinking whiskey and aggressively typing on his duct-taped laptop just feels really romantic.

He hasn’t shared this sentiment because if he used the word Hemingway-esque in front of Laurel, she would probably beat him to death with whatever blunt object was closest. Also, whiskey’s gross, so it was kind of actually boxed wine. Definitely actually boxed wine. Which is probably more Nora Ephron-esque? But he’d rather not think about that.

She laughs.

“I support your sexy survival tactics,” she says, more earnestly. “Plus, it’s been awhile and I think it’d be good for you to experience some human touch. Just make sure you don’t get serial murdered, because I really can’t afford the rent without you.”

“Any of us could be serial murdered at any time,” he says, “but I’ll make sure not to go home with any overly charming white guys.”

“A good rule of thumb,” she says. There’s the distinct sound of her zipping up her half-dead Jansport, covered in streaks of paint and carefully sewn on patches, and slinging it over her shoulders. “Text me before you go to sleep so I know your lifeless corpse isn’t hanging from a meat hook somewhere.”

“We really need to stop watching true crime shows,” he says, faintly. “Have fun banging your girlfriend.”

“I always do.”

When he hangs up, he leans back against the building and tips his head back so it hits the concrete. The sky is grey and it’s starting to snow again, flakes barely grazing his skin before they melt. He briefly misses smoking, which he took up in high school because smoking makes you look cool and he needed a little push in that direction to survive while being noticeably not straight, but it mostly made him smell bad and cough a lot.  

This is the kind of time that he misses it, though. Say what you will about dying from lung cancer, but slowly smoking a cigarette in a borderline sexual way and watching the smoke swirl up into the snow really sets a scene.

Andy’s got three hours left on his front desk shift and then he’ll see if anybody’s interested in buying what he’s selling. He just needs to eat a protein bar and make himself look like he’s willing and ready to go before he engages in some completely legitimate sexual hijinks that will probably not end with him chopped in seven pieces distributed in dumpsters all across the city.

If he had a cigarette right now, he’d drop it to the sidewalk and crush it under his foot with a look of quiet but intense determination.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, takes a bold step forward, and immediately slips on a patch of ice in front of him.

Good start.

*

The hallway is subarctic when Andy gets inside. He’s surprised his key doesn’t shatter in the lock, but it opens like it normally does, with three aggressive shakes, one well-timed push and a quick prayer to a vengeful god.

The apartment is whatever is colder than subarctic. He’s not great with politics, but he’s pretty sure that Laurel would say something like colder than a Republican controlled congress’ heart. Regardless, fucking cold.

After he steals one of her Luna bars, he turns to see three hot pink post-its stuck to their radio that say, in Laurel’s barely legible scrawl: help me / oh god please / i am dying. He’s honestly surprised that it’s not in the form of a haiku.

He wishes that she was here, because she’s always good at dressing him up to look like a functioning human that somebody might want to spend time with. Since they met at NYU, they’ve done about fifty 80s makeover montages and about thirty have been successful. For now, though, he searches through the clothes that are hanging from the pipe that traverses his closet-sized room until he finds a dark blue t-shirt that he wore the last time he hooked up.

(It was sometime in the spring, after a party he didn’t really want to be at. The guy had an ironic mustache and insisted on playing death metal while they fucked, but he left Andy with some fond memories of his dick that he could revisit in his free time.)

It takes him fifteen minutes of both searching and comparison to find the tightest jeans that he owns—they’re probably a size too small and he’s maybe had them since he was an actual teenager, but a quick turn in front of the mirror confirms that his ass looks, at the very least, pretty decent.

He thinks about packing a bag before realizing that nobody’s going to look at the guy lugging a duffel bag around and think anything other than Unabomber, so he leaves the frozen wasteland behind with a phone, a charger, a wallet, and his will to survive.

*

Andy just needs two shots to ease this process, but the bartender is focused on the line of obnoxiously attractive men that are blocking the bar. They’re also tall. His life would be so much easier if he was tall.

He’s literally waving, shoving his way in to lean against the bar and try to make eye contact, when he feels someone step up behind him. He turns enough to see one of the obnoxiously attractive men, who smiles down at him before vaguely gesturing with his wrist and magically summoning the bartender.

“. . .how?” Andy asks, then turns around to point at the bartender. “Two tequila shots.”

He should probably offer Hot Wizard Guy one of the shots, but he’ll never see him again and he’s got a bigger purpose to fulfill. He shoots them both as soon as they’re in front of him and groans before turning around to eye him.

“What’s it like to have a face like that?” he asks.

Hot Wizard Guy grins, says, almost shyly, “Helpful, sometimes. I—I’m James.”

“Andy,” Andy says, taking the offered hand, big and warm and very compelling. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Usher if he taught comparative philosophy at a small New England private college?”

James looks shocked momentarily before he laughs.

“No, actually,” he says. “Is that a good thing?”

“Is that—seriously? Yes, it’s a good thing,” Andy says, taking a moment to get a good look at his face, which is—wow—before he continues, “Anyway, James, thank you so much for your help but you’re way too hot and nobody’s going to hit on me if you’re talking to me.”

“Oh, uhm—I was hitting on you?” James says, smiling uncomfortably, shifting on his feet. “Or trying, at least. I haven’t done this in a while.”  

Andy stares at him for slightly too long, trying to figure out if he’s joking, then interrupts him when his face goes kind of sad and he tries to apologize by grabbing his arm and saying, “That is a plot twist, dude. Is your apartment warm?”

“. . .yeah, I think so,” James says, sounding pleasantly confused. His smile is ridiculous. Andy’s got to get him out of here before someone poaches him, and he’s willing to be kind of a slut to make that happen.

“Let’s go,” he says, taking his hand.

“Wait, right now?”

“No time like the present,” Andy says, brightly, probably bordering on desperate but he never quite warmed up even surrounded by sweaty dancing bodies. He did half-jog here without a coat, though, because looking like a bright red marshmallow isn’t the sexiest foot forward he could take.

James takes a moment before he finishes the beer in his other hand and sits it on the bar, squeezing Andy’s hand and smiling again. God, the smile.

“Works for me,” he says.

* 

“Favorite Star Trek,” Andy says. James never let go of his hand, which is cute and--so is he. Handsome when they were all pressed up together in the dark, blue lights on his skin, but outside in the snow he mother hens about Andy not wearing a jacket and makes dumb jokes and is completely awful at flirting.

“Star Wars,” James says.

“Oh, shit, I can’t sleep with you now,” Andy says, starting to pull away, and James snorts and pulls him even closer.

“You don’t like Star Wars?”

He gets an arm around Andy’s shoulder and Andy leans into it, resisting the urge to throw his arms around him and absorb his body heat for himself, and says, “I’m fine with a Star War. I’m willing to take sides, though, if it comes down to a fight.”

“I don’t care enough to fight you over it, so I’ll concede,” James says. “Are you into sports?”

“Please no,” Andy says, immediately, and James laughs.

“Got it,” he says, warmly. “Picked last for baseball?”

“Avoided baseball by hiding under the bleachers.”

“So you were a delinquent,” James says, sounding amused. It’s not too far off; he was more of a weirdo, slightly too gay and slightly too manic to be an acceptable member of the general teenage culture. That kind of existence lends itself well to minor acts of delinquency, though.

“And you were a. . .jock?” Andy guesses, not entirely sure.

“Speech and debate,” James says, with a lot of dignity.

“You were a nerd,” Andy says, delightedly, nudging him enough that they both sway a little towards the side. “I bet you care more about Star Wars than you’re willing to admit.”

“Well. . .” James says.

“I bet you like sports because of the statistics.”

“Yeah, okay, you’ve got my number,” James says, sounding the slightest bit embarrassed but mostly like he’s charmed, which means Andy’s playing this right. It isn’t hard, really. He actually likes him. They fit together nicely, and his laugh kind of does dumb things to Andy’s heart. It’s almost too bad that it’s just for the night.

They talk through the ten blocks to his apartment, and Andy’s trying to guess what James’ job is as they stop on the stoop.

“. . .underwear model,” he says, finally.  

“Close,” James says, smiling. “I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh!” Andy says. “Cool. I was almost a lawyer.”

“Almost?”

“I got through one semester and had what I think qualifies as an existential breakdown,” he elaborates, figuring if it’s just one night, he may as well share some embarrassing personal anecdotes. As long as he doesn’t mention how many bathrooms he cried in that year. “Now I’m in hospitality, because I need money to buy food and survive.”

“You know, existential breakdown aside, you might’ve been a good lawyer,” James says, in a tone like he’s about to say something that’s going to make Andy really happy. His head’s tipped to the side and his face is kind of goofy and Andy wants to kiss it.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks.

“Well, you’re pretty damn charming,” James says, and Andy feels like he’s actually warm all of a sudden, grinning hard before he rocks up on his toes to kiss him. It’s cautious and sweet and slow, like one of them just walked the other home after they split a milkshake and held hands under the table.

When Andy moves back, he almost falls backwards off the step, and James catches him effortlessly and pulls him into another kiss that’s less sock hop and more foreplay. They should get out of the cold. They should get out of the cold and they should get out of view of the general public, because Andy wants to undress him and see everything.

“Take me upstairs,” he says, before leaning into one more kiss.

“Okay,” James breathes, against his mouth.

On the stairs, two flights into four, Andy asks, “What kind of lawyer are you, by the way?”

“Public defender,” James says. “The—poor kind, basically.”

“Oh, that’s honorable,” Andy says, humming softly. “I was going to say that if you’re one of the wealthy corrupt ones, I might work a little harder at whatever happens tonight. I’ve got, like, a lot of student loans.”

James laughs, almost too loud, echoing up the stairwell.

“Yeah, I’m fully anticipating dying before I pay all my debt,” he says. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Andy says, happily. “I’ll give it 90%, at least.”

As soon as they get inside, James backs him up against the door to kiss him again, intently, hands sliding into Andy’s hair and gripping it lightly. Andy pushes back against him just to feel him push, too, grinding together. They’re wearing too much clothing. Andy’s brain is already operating on a base level, but he knows that one single fact.

“Bedroom,” he says, firmly.

“Bedroom,” James echoes.

They don’t untangle themselves as they try to walk, kissing their way into the next room, knocking against the door frame before they stumble inside. There’s a moment of still, heart-beating hesitation, standing close, James’ big hands clutching lightly at his waist, before Andy realizes that he’s going to have to make the first move. He presses one firm kiss to his mouth before he drops to his knees.

James looks startled.

“You good?” Andy asks, looking up to see his face go through about five emotions before it softens and he nods.

“I’m great,” he says, dropping a hand to run it through Andy’s hair, which--yeah, that’s nice. He leans up to press a kiss to his erection through his jeans and short cut nails skim lightly over his scalp. If humans could purr, he’d probably be doing it.

“If I could unzip your pants with my teeth, I would,” Andy says, genuinely, already breathless and losing his cool and they’re both still completely clothed, “but I know my limitations.”

“Let me,” James says, amused, and Andy bites back a sad noise when he lets go of his hair but watches with interest as James deftly undoes his fly in front of him and unzips his jeans enough to push them and his boxers down.

“Oh, wow, good job,” Andy breathes, which is nonsense, but James’ dick is--it’s nice.

“Thanks?” James says.

“So welcome. Take your shirt off,” Andy says, and he muffles whatever over-enthusiastic thing he was about to say at the sight of James’ abs—because holy shit—by curling a hand around his hip and pushing up on his knees to take him in his mouth.

James looks overwhelmed for a while, and Andy wonders how long it’s been since he’s been with somebody until he decides to chase that look and see how out of control he can make him. He hasn’t been this invested in anything in a long time, which doesn’t say much about him as a person, but--something about tonight has him wanting to make this guy scream.

A few minutes in, he pulls off with a wet obscene noise to catch his breath and say, “Just so you know, dude, you’re really good at getting your dick sucked.”

“What—what does that even mean?” James asks, laughing.

“Just the right amount of hair pulling,” Andy says. “Authoritative but you’re not, like, actively trying to choke me to death. I just thought you should know that I’m having a really good time.”

“Oh,” James says, sounding kind of touched, tugging lightly on Andy’s hair. “Me, too. Come up here.”

Andy kind of wants to keep going, but he follows the motion, tightening his hold on James’ hip to stand up and fall into another kiss.

“You should take your pants off,” he says, brushing their noses together when they pull apart, split between frantic and tender in a way that has him mildly concerned. It’s probably just the brain chemicals, though. There are a lot of things firing off right now.

“You first,” James says. “I want to watch.”

“I—I can do that,” Andy says, feeling like he should be as honest as possible in case he literally falls on his face, “but just know that stripping involves a type of grace and poise that my body is not capable of performing.”

“You don’t have to perform,” James says, gaze soft and heated, one hand curled almost aimlessly around his dick after he sits on the edge of his bed. “I just want to see you.”

“Oh,” Andy says.

Oh, Andy thinks.

He takes his time, anyway, too distracted watching James touch himself to make eye contact as he undresses entirely, until he’s standing naked in front of him.

“Take your pants off,” he says, softly, and James grins and pushes his jeans down, kicking them away before he reaches up to grab Andy’s arm and tug him down into his lap. They make out messily, laughing into each other’s mouths. Andy’s just drunk enough that he’s not too aware of his body, and he likes the way that James just moves him, lifts him higher, flips him over to straddle his waist.

“Hi,” Andy says, grinning up at him when he’s settled down on his back.

“Hi,” James replies, cupping his cheek before he slides fingers into Andy’s hair again. He probably picked up what it does to him. “I want to fuck you. Do you want that?”

“Oh my god,” Andy says.

“That’s not an answer,” James says. His fingers tighten in his hair, just enough that Andy can feel it tug at the roots. His eyes go wide and his skin goes electric, shifting underneath James.

“Yeah,” he says, earnestly. “Yeah, yes, please.”

“Good,” James murmurs, leaning down to press a lush kiss to his mouth. “How do you want it?”

There’s been just enough hesitance in his voice since they’ve been here that Andy’s pretty sure he doesn’t pick up random guys very often, but he’s also sure that’s the reason that this has been so good already. Cautious and sweet even though James could probably wreck him if he wanted to, based on his--well, everything, and his fingers in Andy’s hair and the way his voice slipped temporarily into something dark and heated.

“On my back,” he says, failing to come with something hotter and being honest instead. “I want to see you.”

He stretches out while James grabs a condom and lube and lets himself be treated nice. James spreads Andy’s legs and opens him up with soft praise and slow strokes of his fingers inside and enough lube that Andy can almost feel it dripping out of him, waits for Andy to tell him when he’s ready before he even puts a condom on.  

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a sweetheart?” Andy asks, reaching up to brush fingers over James’ face when he moves to kneel between his legs.  

“I’m—not sure that’s what you want out of a random bar hookup,” James says, cautiously, holding onto Andy’s hips. He spreads his legs wider and James’ fingers squeeze lightly.  Andy smiles up at him.  

“Maybe not,” he says, pulling James down to press a kiss to his cheek and add, softly, in his ear, “Fuck me hard enough and I might change my mind.”

 James’ answering grin sends a shiver down his spine.

 *

“Wow,” Andy says, shakily, sprawled out with his legs wide and come drying on his stomach. James is still mostly lying on top of him, panting hot against his neck. “Good fuckin’ job, dude.”

“Thanks,” James laughs out, softly, biting gently at Andy’s neck before he moves to collapse on his back next to him instead.

“Like, five stars,” Andy says, yawning. “Ten out of ten.”

“Well,” James says. “Tell your friends.”

Andy laughs sleepily, turning to nuzzle against his shoulder and press a kiss to it.

“I’ll tweet about it immediately,” he murmurs. “Do you spell James with one J or two?”

“Silent P at the start.”

God, Andy likes him. Maybe he can just stay in his bed forever. It’s warm and James kind of smells like a forest or something manly like that and Andy wants to curl up against him and sleep for at least twelve hours. They could get brunch. They could fuck again and then get brunch.

He’s about to casually suggest this when James sits up enough to lean over him and kiss him, slow and sweet, before pulling back and saying, “You can take a shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Before I—oh,” Andy says. “Leave. Like, right now.”

There were some post-coital oxytocin butterflies fluttering around in Andy’s stomach, but that effectively murdered them. There’s a crime scene in there. James kisses him one more time before he gets out of the bed; Andy sits up on his elbows but can’t even enjoy the view as James says, “Give me a second, I’ll find you a towel.”

Andy sighs and lets himself fall backward. The bed is comfortable, too, on top of everything. Soft, worn cotton sheets and stupid comfortable pillows, which are Andy’s particular fetish.

He stretches out to enjoy it, trying not to think about the fact that he’s less sad about having to go back out into the cold than he is about the fact that this is definitely a one-night stand.

Which is what he wanted. With—more night, admittedly, but still.  

He really wants to have brunch with him. 

*

Andy takes a purposefully long shower and comes out smelling like pine trees and hiking and woodworking, and he accepts an old jacket and a kiss on the mouth before he lets himself be pushed out the door. Rejected and a charity case. He’s really killing it, lately.

After wandering around a 24 hour pharmacy for a while, he walks to Stef’s apartment and knocks on her door until she comes to it, half-dressed and her hair in a tangled pile on her head. She at least looks like she’s been sleeping and not like she was in the middle of rocking his best friend’s world.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, flatly. “It’s you.”

“I have no home and just got my heart broken,” he says, trying to look pitiful and probably succeeding, because he’s not far from pitiful. “I just need somewhere to rest my weary head.”

“Where exactly are you planning on sleeping?” she asks, gesturing behind her.

“Between us,” Laurel says, pulling on a t-shirt before she sits up in bed and grins at them. “Like a three-year-old. What happened, kid?”

“Well, I didn’t get serial murdered,” he says, shrugging out of the jacket and sighing loudly as he crosses the room to collapse on the bed next to her.

“I couldn’t get so lucky,” Stef says, and Laurel snorts and crooks her finger so Stef gets close enough for her to kiss.

“Be nice,” she says, softly.

“You said we’d be alone,” Stef says.

“I said we would be alone for at least three hours.”

“I thought that was a joke.”

“Guys, I just had the best sex of my life and got kicked out five seconds later,” Andy says, because they need to sort out their priorities here. “He was perfect. He was a hot lawyer.”

“. . .rich?” Stef asks, apparently curious now. Andy covers his face and groans before he sits up and scoots backward, so they can all sit on the bed, an extra-large twin shoved up in a corner and layered with old quilts.

“No, but—so hot,” he says, making a face at her. “He had abs.”

“Everybody does, technically,” she says.

“Don’t be obtuse, Stefanie, he had abs,” he says, drawing out the word for emphasis.

“What have I said about calling me—”

Laurel grabs Stef and pulls her into a hug before she can finish her sentence, pressing a firm kiss to her cheek. She gives Andy a baleful look and says, “Don’t push your luck, little orphan.”

“Sorry,” Andy says, genuinely, sitting back against the wall and tilting his head back. “I was just expecting a night of—well, hopefully cuddling but at the very least body heat. And now I’m here. Surrounded by lesbians.”

“Okay, you’re not sleeping between us,” Stef says. “But—you can sleep on the couch.”

“That is a very large chair at best,” Andy says, solemnly, “but thank you and I accept.”

“Sweetheart, did you fall in love with a guy over the course of an hour?” Laurel asks, reaching out to poke his thigh with her foot, making an exaggerated concerned face when he looks up at her.

“. . .I just wanted to go to brunch with him,” he says, despairingly, and Laurel laughs and crawls forward to hug him, too.

“I’ll take you to brunch,” she promises. “You just have to go to sleep now, because if Stef doesn’t get at least seven hours, she gets mean.”

“. . .have you ever gotten seven hours of sleep?” Andy asks, before he can help himself, laughing when Laurel shoves him gently off the bed and tosses a quilt and a pillow on top of him. He sits up and holds the pillow close, smiling when he says, “I love you, Stef.”

“Sure,” Stef says, but there’s not even much heat to it, and then she’s tackling Laurel onto the bed and dragging the remaining quilts over them. They kiss and mumble to each other and fall asleep quickly, and he curls up on the alleged couch and tries not to think too hard about how much he’d like to be falling asleep with somebody else right now.