#ill probably post it to ao3 as well but like not today

[josado]

The pleasure is to play

Chapter 1

- A Joseph Joestar x OC fanfic -

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: yumeship, female OC, gambling, mostly just Speedwagon for this chapter

Speedwagon sighed, a gentle smile on his face as he shook his head lightly. "Fine.. I suppose I could indulge you in a friendly game", he said, slowly walking towards the other room with the help of his cane. "But only if there are truly no stakes. I'm mostly doing this just to meet your associate, anyway - I'm not very good at poker myself".

The other man chuckled, patting Speedwagon on his back. "Mate, you're not supposed to tell people that.. You're giving yourself away and we haven't even started yet".

"Ah... I fear that the second we start playing you'll realize I lack the so-called poker face, so it won't make much of a difference. But...", he stopped at the door to the meeting room, his hand resting on the doorknob. He looked over to the other man, a serious look on his face. "But I really do hope you are on the correct trail. The Speedwagon Foundation has caught whiff of similar phenomena happening around the world... If you think this is one of such cases, well... It could change everything for us."

The other man nodded. He was slightly younger than him, his hair only beginning to go gray on the sides. He had a serious look on his face just like Speedwagon, but his was quite nervous as well - nervous for both his personal reputation and for all the future business he planned on doing with the foundation's founder. This meeting was his idea after all, so he really needed it to go well and show he's reliable. He was certain this was a textbook case which would fit perfectly in Speedwagon's new research. Meeting over a poker game felt less than appropriate for making new business connections and trying to understand and better the world.. But it would all make sense soon enough. "She might not accept right away.. But I believe the lady will not need too much convincing. If nothing else, then she will accept purely out of boredom. She is...", he nodded, letting Speedwagon know it was alright to enter, "...a bit... addicted to the feeling of uncertainty... one would not be wrong to call it that."

Speedwagon opened the door, taking a few steps inside. His brows furrowed a bit, not expecting the new associate to be this young. No alarms went off in his head though, and although it wasn't what it once was, he still had great faith in his ability to sniff out someone's character. His nose was currently telling him that the worst thing that could happen here would be wasting his time. A young lady in her 20s sat at the table, smiling a little awkwardly. She had long dark ashy blonde hair with a single platinum streak in her fringe. She wore minimal makeup, but her eyelashes were definitely covered in mascara, clumping together intentionally to bring even more attention to her doll-like hazel eyes. Speedwagon slowly walked closer and extended his hand out to her. "My name is Robert E. O. Speedwagon, founder of The Speedwagon Foundation. My associate has, surprisingly, not told me a lot about you at all."

"A girl has to keep some secrets, doesn't she?", she said playfully as a small chuckle escaped her lips. She shook his hand, her grip on the handshake unusually confident for a woman her age. Speedwagon found this promising, as it implied she had something to be confident about. Perhaps the intel would prove to be correct. "Adora Dodie. A pleasure to meet you".

"Quite a grip you've got there, Adora", Speedwagon said, raising both eyebrows and looking right into her eyes. His amber ones studied hers, his nose working overtime. He finally let go of the handshake and sat down at the table, right across from her. "And quite a beautiful fake name as well".

Slight shock appeared on the girl's face as she didn't expect him to figure it out right away. The associate also sat down at a seat between the two, looking really anxious. The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact that Speedwagon himself didn't appear any more nervous than usual. The associate had only recently met her (and under this name), but never once questioned it. She just raised one eyebrow, cocking her head to the side, now amused by his keen perception, her facial expression not even trying to deny the accusation. "Oh?"

"He mentioned you were Slavic, and your fashion sense is certainly not typical American..", Speedwagon started explaining, gesturing to the girl's outfit. It was rather chilly outside, less so inside, yet she still wore her short leopard fur coat - although, only around her shoulders, her black sweater peeking through from underneath. She also wore an insanely short skirt, which immediately made him think that she must be used to colder weather than America has to offer, as she wasn't shivering or seeming like she minded it at all. Her legs were fully covered in sheer black nylon tights, which told him she had no patriotism for this country considering the nylon shortage the war caused to help the troops. The black leg warmers scrunched at the very bottom of her legs certainly weren't doing a great job at keeping her warm or at hiding the expensive tights. They were merely a fashion accessory. "So I would assume you came here with the rest of the refugees at the start of the war, not that you've lived here for a good portion of your life.. The name certainly doesn't sound Slavic either, so perhaps it's an alias?" He stared at her for a few more moments, studying her before speaking again. Her smell was balsamic, an odd mixture of sour cherries and bitter almonds. It was sweet but melancholy, like a strange sadness hiding behind the sourness of the cherries. "But the lie wasn't malicious, was it, Adora?"

Adora, or whatever her real name was, nodded softly, as she started to shuffle the cards in front of her. "I'm a professional gambler, sir. And as you can imagine, the job isn't exactly ideal for making friends and giving them my actual name.."

Speedwagon looked at their shared associate, piecing together how he even met this lady. The guy definitely had gambling as a vice, it was no tightly kept secret, but Speedwagon still didn't expect to see him testing his luck against professionals. That being said, what even was a professional gambler, anyway? Surely, it must have just meant bigger amounts being wagered, as it was a purely luck-based activity after all. He now carefully watched her shuffle the cards, trying to catch a glimpse of any sleights of hand. He had seen Joseph cheat at cards enough times that he felt positive he could catch any funny movements if they occurred. "So how do you become a professional at something that requires no skill?"

"By simply never losing", she said, a slight smirk on her face.

"I can vouch for her being a professional", the associate added, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it - it's like a superpower!" He also watched her shuffle the cards, but more in awe, rather than trying to catch her cheating. He knew there was no trickery involved, just pure luck. He knew that the girl enjoyed the sense of uncertainty that gambling brought, the stress, the adrenaline rush... Even the feeling that you could lose everything in an instant, the outcome being fully out of one's control. She loved this feeling, and he knew she wouldn't cheat now, purely to be able to experience it just a little. "But, dear, that's not entirely correct, though, now is it? You lose a great deal, actually".

Adora dealt the cards to each of them, her hands clearly experienced in holding a deck. "I suppose, but that's not what you brought Mr. Speedwagon here to see, was it? You want him to see me winning, no?"

"Correct", the man confirmed, turning fully to Speedwagon to explain. "No matter how badly she loses, she never ends a game on a loss."

"Well... Being lucky is hardly a good example of what I was hoping to find here..", Speedwagon said, feeling a bit like the guy wasn't fully grasping his research topic. "When I said supernatural powers, I didn't mean something as vague as this..." He sighed and rested his face against his palm, his elbow planted firmly on the table, and used his other hand to look at the cards he was just dealt. They weren't that bad, honestly. An 8 of hearts and a 10 of hearts - depending on what got pulled next, this could be an easy victory.

"Trust me, this is not normal luck", the man defended his stance. "At first, it seemed like a random string of wins and losses to me, but then I started watching her more carefully. It seemed like she had some wins that were pleasant surprises, which makes sense, but then some brought absolutely no emotion to her face. Just a good poker face, most people would think. But then why would she have such a visible reaction in other situations, right?"

"I never thought you to be such a devoted fan", Adora teased the older man, looking at her own cards. Upon seeing them she gave a little downturned smile - neither too pleased or displeased with her cards.

"Honestly, I just assumed you were a huge cheater and I kept following your games hoping you'd finally get caught. Though, if I may speak freely, Miss Dodie... I'd still argue you are one. A much worse one than I originally thought, even." Both of them shared a chuckle, much to Speedwagon's confusion. The man turned to him again, continuing his story. "You could see it on her face - plain as day. She was cheating. She wasn't surprised at some wins, because she knew they were going to happen."

"Did you ever get caught?", Speedwagon asked her directly, carefully watching her hands as she shuffled the deck.

“I would have to actually cheat first, in order to get caught”, she said, shooting the associate a small playful smirk. “In fact, Mr. Speedwagon, if it eases your nerves, you may shuffle the cards yourself”. Adora slid the deck across the table, leaving them right in front of him. Speedwagon took the cards and started shuffling them himself, though with much less ease than she did.

“She never got caught. Not once. And they did everything they could to try and catch her in the act.”, the associate said, shaking his head. “I approached her at the bar recently and told her I thought she was born under a lucky star. After a few drinks, she confessed that she was always this lucky, even as a kid. She even said it makes life boring…”

“..To always feel in control..”, she finished his sentence, sighing. “I won’t pretend like it’s a bad thing, obviously, but it’s certainly got its bad side as well."

“So she’s either born with a gift.. Or she’s the best cheater in the world”. The associate looked at his own cards, having a pair of 9s. He felt good about his hand, but he knew there was no point to it, as he knew Adora would still find a way to luck out and win. Speedwagon dealt the cards for the game, revealing them all on the table. A 5 of spades.. A 2 of hearts… Queen of spades… A 4 of spades... And the 6 of clubs. Both men thought the same thing for a brief moment - I could at least easily have the high card. They both revealed their cards, looking to her to see if she would win or not.

Adora showed hers as well, a 3 of hearts and a 4 of clubs. “Looks like a Straight.. Two, three, four, five, six… Yep. And a pair of 4s as well”, she said, giving her cards back to Speedwagon to shuffle again, a cocky smirk on her face.

As he started dealing the cards for the second round, he wasn’t exactly convinced yet. It would take a lot more than that to prove this was some sort of supernatural power rather than just plain old luck. But he wasn’t about to start complaining either, as there were certainly much less entertaining ways to conduct research. “Help me understand though.. So why would you come to me willingly? Isn’t this basically an admission to cheating of sorts?”, he asked her, raising both of his bushy eyebrows and dealing the cards to each of them.

Adora chuckled. “Hardly. I’d argue being lucky is a requirement for gambling.. Otherwise you are just giving your money away for no reason.” As she received her cards she didn't even take a quick look at them. Both men looked at theirs, both trying to maintain some sort of poker face. “Plus.. The way it was described..” She looked directly into Speedwagon’s amber eyes, as if trying to speak to him without using words. She seemed to have really resonated with the overall topic of the research, which was the only reason she even agreed to meet with him. "I feel like... This luck has been haunting me my whole life. I don't want it gone, but I would like a better understanding of what's going on and why it is here. Why it acts the way it does. If that makes sense". She emphasized certain words as she spoke to him, as if alluding to something. It was a test of her own and the real game she and Speedwagon were playing now - figuring out if they are talking about the same thing without giving anything away before any formal deal is made. She watched Speedwagon as he revealed the cards on the table. "So they're all clubs and they're just a Queen shy of it being a Royal Flush... Perhaps the queen of clubs in my cards would convince you a bit more about my... situation."

"But...", Speedwagon started, looking at her confused. He took a few moments to look around the table and under it, just in case, before continuing. "You haven't even looked at your cards yet. How could you possibly know you have the missing card?"

She revealed her cards to them by extending her arm so that they could clearly see the queen of clubs staring back at them. And yet she still hasn't looked at the cards herself. The associate sighed, shaking his head and turning to Speedwagon. "See? And she even does this often, as if being smug about it helps her case with the cheating allegations..."

"But, how?!"

Adora shrugged, finally taking a look at her own cards, before giving them back for the next round. "Just requires more luck than a Straight does, I suppose".

Speedwagon looked at her, squinting his eyes and studying her features one last time. She had a small mole under her right eye and another one above her left eyebrow, but the asymmetry was surprisingly pleasing to look at. It drew even more attention to her eyes, which she clearly treated as her best facial feature. Her eyebrows were very straight, her cheeks pink and her lipstick intentionally smeared across her lip lines in a shade that wasn't very bold, looking as if she just finished eating strawberries messily. Everything on her face was carefully set up to point in the direction of her looking gentle and almost angelic, and yet here she was in all her actual glory. A smug gambling addict and an obvious cheater. Still, he could see past the surface and smell out what was going on. He didn't know how she was doing it, and she would clearly never openly admit to it either, but he knew this was her confessing and seeking help. Clearly she was doing something. He thought for a moment as he shuffled the cards. He then picked up one random card and set it face-down at the table. "Try to guess which card this is, Miss Dodie."

"It's a four", she said, her voice monotone and unimpressed. Clearly he wasn't the first person to attempt this approach.

"A four of what?"

"I'll have to guess... A four of hearts".

Speedwagon nodded, revealing the card to indeed be a four or hearts. He thought for another moment, scratching his face as he did. It was definitely starting to look like more than dumb luck. "Hmm... Now I'm thinking of a number between one and one hundr-"

"Sixty seven."

He gulped. It actually was exactly 67. The associate nodded enthusiastically as he watched her guess everything right, hoping this will seal the deal. "It's insane, I'm telling you. It's not even just gambling, sometimes I fear she can read minds".

The girl chuckled at this, lowkey enjoying both the praise from her associate and the shocked look that Speedwagon was sending her way. "Oh, I wish I could read minds, but I assure you I unfortunately can not. If I could then I wouldn't even have to ask you this... But what is it exactly that you are even offering to me?"

Speedwagon thought about it for a moment before deciding that he would like to pursue this phenomena further. It seemed promising. "Well, is there more information that you have that you have not disclosed to me yet?"

"I will only say that yes, I have a clear understanding of the principle of how this luck works, just not... Why me, of all people?"

"And you would share this information with the Speedwagon foundation, correct?"

"Only if we are officially partners, but yes, I suppose."

He nodded, leaving the cards on the table and slowly getting up from his seat with the help of his cane. He extended his arm to her, finally officially making her a business offer. "I can offer you to stay at my house and have all your expences paid for the entire duration of the research. In return I would like to run some tests, hear your thoughts on the whole phenomena, get to know your personality, lineage, history…”

Adora nodded as she listened to his proposal. Certainly, having all your expences be paid for was an enticing offer, one which she would have a hard time justifying to herself if she were to decline it. She also simply wanted to know more about her own situation. The luck came at a price, one which she wanted to truly understand and perhaps even keep under control better. She extended her own arm to him as well, shaking his hand firmly. Speedwagon let go of her hand and started walking away, subtly gesturing to his associate to follow him so that they could discuss the oil business somewhere more private. He turned to her one last time, giving her a reassuring look. "Come to my house tomorrow and we'll get you settled in and start with the basics - getting to know each other." He then pointed to the associate. "He'll make sure you are given the proper address as well as take care of any transportation needs to my property for you or your luggage. Alright?"

Both Adora and the associate nodded. "Understood", she said, still thinking about this whole thing in her head. It was a little insane, perhaps even very risky on her end, but she was certain that she would have realised by now if this meeting was a stroke of bad luck rather than just an interesting new experience. And she definitely wouldn't mind shaking up the monotone routine she built up lately that consisted of nothing but her hotel room and various casinos. Perhaps it was the perfect time to get to know herself and her history better. "I will be there after lunch, then."

[headfullof-ideas]

Something a little different here. I’ve been working on various stuff for the story, like redesigns, actual chapters, timeline plots, Headcanon and storyboard doodles, and other stuff. I’ve also been trying to figure out that future stuff, with the Next Gen stuff, trying to figure out what story I’d tell if I even decide to, what the kids would look like, and all that jazz. While scrolling through Pinterest I found a Draw the Squad, and immediately thought of some of the existing kids that I’ve already designed and developed…and so procrastinated on all of the actual story stuff I was in the literal middle of doing to draw that instead.

Some of them are a little wonky, as I kinda rushed it, but these are the next generation of Nekton kids that i’ve spent nearly the entire time I’ve been into The Deep designing and developing as characters. They’ve gone through a lot of concepts and variations, but this is what I’ve permanently settled on. I’m posting this merely to see if anyone is interested in learning about them, as I’m still a little on the fence due to teasing about actually going through with writing a Next Gen installment of the story(that I haven’t even FINISHED yet). I kinda don’t wanna say which Nekton sibling each kiddo belongs to, as I kinda want people to guess

Also some closeups

[creatively-cosmic]

i wanted to draw something different today soooo. i went n scrounged up a buncha pokepastas that ive read/pokepasta ocs ive seen around recently (mostly via mutuals)! ill tag creators and link sources under the cut, and ramble a little abt my thoughts... ^^

if anyone wants me to untag or remove their stuff from this btw let me know i didnt ask i kinda just. started doodling.

also half of yall i either never followed or only Just did i need 2 remedy that. ive been observing yalls stuff from a distance i keep forgetting to Press the Fucking Button is all

Your Friend Silver (Elias) by @uuberwachen ! this was such an INSANELYYY well written story and it stuck with me for DAYS. it really slots in the space in my mind that holds the classics and the twists and stuff with it genuinely got me. i cant recommend it enough if anyone who sees it hasnt read it yet. i got so excited when i saw a dedicated ask blog went up. i wish i werent scared of sending in questions to those things

Pixel Blue: 3DS VIRTUAL CONSOLE (2016) by @calybunz ! ahhh this was such a cool one to read! id see updates on it incidentally n i can tell a lot of work went into it- it was definitely worth it! its well written with a lot of heart.. maybe im just a sucker for stories that focus on a sympathetic blue.. the ending made me so SAD dude what the fuck. though my favorite parts were probably the dream sequences- godd the imagery of it all was fantastic!

Nuzlight (Mia) at @nuzlight-mia ! this is one i dont know much about yet, but her personality and design really captivated me when i first saw her! she seems like such a sweetheart and i look forward to getting to see more of her :3 i feel so bad for her situation.. the story n concept are all so interesting!

Missing Numbers (Green) at @themissingnumbers ... is our thing but green is hells (@hells1nfern0 ) dude that i have no sway in so. whatever. im unwell about him im excited for more to be revealed abt him :] i cant really say more than that since i know his secrets

FIRE RED FREE DOWNLOAD (Infected/Abandoned RED) by @aibouart ... another one i saw the design of first and was just IMMEDIATELY struck by. i love when stories twist in-universe things that're generally treated as normal and mundane and use its horror potential! a parasect parasite outbreak where the protagonist gets infected by that and ends up full of mushrooms...? thats the kinda shit i love to see >:)

Jack by @sparklingdemon ! cool ass design ive been wanting to draw and a cool concept to go with- the creepyblack protagonist as a grinning-reaper type where the ghost is an extension of him rules. i also loveee when designs utilize the fossil missingno stuff!! kabutops's arms lend themselves REALLY well to being a scythe

Glitchy Red: Retold by @lycankeyy / @glitchyred (idk which blog youd rather have tagged sorry). so i saw this when the official ao3 repost went up or got mentioned or something and it. really. resonated with me. like its hard to put my thoughts into coherent words, other than i had to just. Lay Down for the rest of the night after reading it and just feel whatever emotions struck me. it cut really deep but honestly- that's just fantastic. it's not often that i read something that makes me feel as viscerally as this rewrite did, and i have nothing but adoration for it because of that (we do have the plural bias which doesnt help regarding this lol). in my mind this is the definitive version of glitchy red.

Sanctuary AU (Aster) by @possiblyfunny . ANYWAYS ON A LIGHTER NOTE i fucking love aster more than i can put into words. given we get tagged in almost every piece of him that goes up its always such a delight to see and learn more about him! id been planning to draw him for months at this point but only just got around to it haha -v-" i look forward to seeing more abt the sanctuary au! please continue to tag me in those posts idc if it includes my guys or not i just care so much abt it

[nadinefromwhere]

I love you even for 800 years and more (rafayel x reader)

hi guys so uhh im back after going poof for 2 months- BUT YEAH SO REGARDING THE SELF AWARE FIC IM HALFWAY DONE JUST 2K MORE WORDS I ONLY FINISHED RAFA AND ZAYNES PART BUT I PROMISE ILL TRY POSTING THE FIC BY THE END OF THE YEAR!! word count: 631 Warning: fluff, a bit of angst?, i only proof read this once- PLUS JOIN MY UPDATES GANG💥💥 fanfic updates

ao3 wattpad

“Then what does your home look like?” the girl's eyes sparkled in curiosity, looking at the young merman before her, staring at her back. They were only children when they first met, back then it was a warm summer night as the waves calmly crashed at the shore, their very first meeting.and probably the last.

It was a distant memory, now you, a grown woman who had been working at the hunters association for 3 years now, have always remembered that single moment back then when she was a child. Every night you had dreamt about that single moment, the other person's voice….it sounds familiar but eventually as time went by, his face became nothing but a blurred one in your dreams….

“RAFAYEL COME BACK HERE” you say as you chase him down the shore, his laughing echoing into your ears, the scene unfolding before you as if it had happened before…

Before you could reach him, something flashes before your eyes, a scene that you have never seen before. It was rafayel but.. He was holding a girl. She was barely moving and she stood still like a doll, the velvet red gushing out of her chest, with him crying with no response from the girl..

What the fuck is happening..

“Cutie? Cutie are you all right?” As you snap out the first thing you see was rafayel showing a sign of concern towards you, his bluish - pink eyes staring into your gray - colored toned eyes.

“Don't worry honey i am” You say returning a smile at him, which led to him being suspicious.

The dream has been occurring non stop since last week, first was you and Rafayel in the deep sea then after you both were in the desert. A dream that you did remember was the one in the sea, you had found yourself next to a sleeping Rafayel, his breathing calm as the sounds of water surrounding you both. 

Rafayel, he couldn't stand it much longer. He was concerned for you. What was in your mind? Did something happen back at the beach? Why weren’t you sleeping properly this past few days? 

“Cutie please…tell me what happened?” He asked one day as you both were in the couch just cuddling each other on a rainy morning

“There's nothing wrong i promise-” Before you could usher another word, he stops you, his eyes filled with worry about your well being.

“You've been saying you're fine for the past few days but you're not, plus you look like you barely slept the past week plus work has been keeping you busy and you like your going to get sick soon. So please, my love, tell me what's going on. I can help you. You don’t have to always have that strong facade 24/7 you know” 

“Raf i-”

“Please?”

“....fine but i just don’t know how to explain it…..”

Rafayel was on all ears. He didn't care about the artworks he had to finish by today or either Thomas calling him to finish. All his attention was on you, suddenly tearing up from what happened

“I remember…I remember everything that happened back then..” You say letting out a sob as at one point you couldn't hold it in anymore resulting to you bursting into tears

“Everything? you remember every single thing?”

“Yes raf. Everything”

“Even when…it happened?”

“Mhhm”

“Cutie come here” he says, going to you hugging. You hug him back, your tears staining his white shirt as he whispers words of comfort.

“I love you..i'm sorry you had to go through everything…just for me” you say still sobbing 

“I would do anything just for you,” Rafayel says, kissing your forehead.

Even after 800 years of waiting, he finally found you but at what cost? 

[apomaro-mellow]

Whispers of the Night

Steve is content to spread the word of the Lord among the people of Hawkins, unaware that a demon has their sights set on corrupting him.

Ficlet inspiration / Read on AO3

Steve started every morning by thanking the Lord for allowing him to wake up to a new day and promising to spread His good word as gratitude. Which started with watching the morning news while eating breakfast. The morning stories were usually quite tame, catching everyone up to speed in case anything happened the previous night. But in a town as small as Hawkins, it was mostly fluff pieces and traffic.

Before the program ended, it always capped off with a preview of stories to come later in the day. One of Indiana’s senators had been caught having an elicit affair with someone and he had to tune in at eight to find out. Also there was something spreading around the youth that parents should be on the lookout for, also at eight.

Sufficiently notified of what he needed for the day, he set out for his mission. He was entrusted by the Reverend Brenner, who led their parish and was a shepherd for lost souls. Today, Steve would be tending to his own flock, the inmates of the prison just outside the town limits. Usually Jason led the service there, but he had fallen ill and so it was passed on to Steve.

He was more than happy to oblige. Besides, Jason seemed to have ambitions to head a church much larger than Hawkins could hold. Something in a real city. Commendable, to be sure, but Steve was content with their little community. Their goals aligned nicely. As Father Brenner’s son, Jason might’ve been considered the one to take over when his dad stepped down. But he talked more and more everyday about building a grand temple of his own.

And if Father Brenner saw fit to pass his post down to Steve instead, well…

“Don’t get too proud now Harrington”, he said to himself as he parked.

He checked himself over in the mirror first before stopping himself. He’d already made sure his suit was ironed right and hair looked perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be anyway. His tie was blue and neither too loose nor too tight. He entered the prison and went through security just fine. The only thing he needed on him was the Good Book. 

A guard led him to the room he’d be working in and it was simple, as to be expected. They didn’t have a single room dedicated to worship, like a larger facility might. A fact Jason often complai-lamented about. But there was a podium for Steve to put his book and chairs for the men. 

“Did we finally scare that lil boy away?”, one of the inmates gruffed as he came in.

“Poor thing probably got tired of Gus always making passes at him”, said another.

“I only hoot at the pretty ones”, a third, apparently Gus said as he looked Steve up and down. “This one’s safe.”

Steve’s lips tightened together. He wasn’t offended that a random man thought Jason was prettier than him. Certainly not. Vanity was sinful and what did the opinions of his appearance matter? Especially from the likes of these men? Steve blew out a calming breath. They might be criminals, but they were still God’s children. And through him, they might be able to find salvation. He turned to the page Jason had bookmarked for him, planning on continuing from there. 

“I invite you all to join me in prayer”, Steve said, hands coming together as he bowed his head. 

He considered for only a split second that he was making himself vulnerable to these men and he didn’t even know what their crimes were. But there was a guard in the corner and surely they wouldn’t try anything with a clergyman.

Steve read the scriptures as he’d been taught and didn’t falter when the men’s eyes glazed over with what could only be boredom. In an effort to bring up the energy a little for both them and himself, he grabbed the book and walked from behind the podium, pacing back and forth. When he looked up from the pages to meet their gazes, he noticed most of them did seem more engaged. But their eyes were a little lower than he expected. Almost as if they were watching his-

“Ahem”, he cleared his throat while snapping the bible closed. “Let us end today’s service with the Lord’s prayer.” 

He checked the clock discretely and was relieved to find that his time was nearly up anyway. He led them in the closing prayer and then nodded to each of them. All seven. Not a grand congregation, but it was seven potential souls saved. Just as Steve was preparing to leave, he jumped and yelped. 

Someone had just smacked his ass.

“Jackson!”, the guard yelled, coming over.

“Worth it”, he grinned at Steve.

Steve took in the man who had touched him, looking so self-satisfied while Steve was red in the face. A few of the other men looked on appreciatively or with what could only be called jealousy.

“How’d it feel?”

“You could bounce a quarter off it.”

“Shit, I’d wear that ass out.”

“The slacks were a great choice, Father.”

Steve was escorted out before the remarks could turn more vulgar but the damage had been done. Had they ever done anything like that to Jason? If so, why had he never said-Well it was obvious why he’d never say anything. 

Once in his car, he deflated like a balloon. His butt still tingled. It didn’t hurt it was just…different. Steve very vividly remembered the last time he’d been spanked. He had been six. He couldn’t remember what he’d done, just that the lesson had stuck. Do bad things and you get the belt. Even now, as an adult, when he worried about making the right choice, his behind felt the phantom of his parent’s punishments.

This hadn’t felt quite like that. He certainly didn’t enjoy it, no of course not. But it was the principle. Who went around slapping people on the behind and then bragging about it to his buddies?

Steve shook himself as he went to his next stop. A mother of their church had asked for some help in guiding her son back to the path of light. It was an intervention of sorts and Steve had done these a couple times before. It didn’t always end nicely, but it was the effort that counted.

She welcomed him into her home, serving coffee in the living room while calling her son down. The Klines had moved to Hawkins just a few years ago and while Mr. and Mrs. Kline had become regulars quickly, Steve had only seen their son in passing while in town.

He looked just about a couple years younger than Steve, but there was an unease about him as he sat down on the couch next to his mother. Steve had the armchair.

“Where’s your whole…”, Kline Jr gestured to Steve’s body. “The costume?”

“My vestments are saved for church services or other special moments”, Steve explained. “But let’s talk about you. Your mother has expressed some concerns.”

“Devil worship”, Mrs. Kline said suddenly. “He and his friends participate in it and I’ve been telling him to give it up.”

“It’s not devil worship! It’s just a game!”

“Games can start innocent but end dangerously”, Steve said, hands clasped in his lap. He imagined the young man and some of his friends standing around a fire, or perhaps a pentagram made from rocks and calling upon Satan. Something that might seem silly to those who weren’t devout.

“No, it’s literally a game. It’s like, pretend. But with math and you get to make your own character. And mine doesn’t even believe in god, any god! Which means he doesn’t believe in the devil either.”

“They call that atheism and it’s a slippery slope”, Mrs. Kline said. “My sister told me all about it and you’re going to end up just like your cousin if you’re not careful…”

Mrs. Kline ended up taking over the conversation and Steve was left to simply nod and say ‘mhm’ whenever she deigned to turn to him. After about ten minutes, it began to grate on him. He did come to share the Lord’s perspective after all, not just sit and cosign whatever she had probably already told her son.

Then the son had an outburst that brought Steve back to the present. “You’re not even listening to me! That’s the problem! You don’t listen! You don’t even care. I’m not the way you want me to be.”

Mrs. Kline got silent. “...What do you mean?”

Her question was simple and yet the atmosphere shifted. The son looked to be going over the options in his mind before deciding to just stand up and walk off. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

He walked out of the house and seconds later they heard a car drive off and Steve figured that was the end of the visit. He thanked Mrs. Kline for inviting him into her abode and offered his prayers for her family.

When Steve got home that evening, he removed his suit jacket and then checked himself over in the mirror by the door. Normally he did this before leaving just in case there was something that kept him from being presentable. But now, he stood with his back to the mirror and twisted around. In his black slacks, his behind sat rather prominent. He was aware of his body. And he could somewhat understand that if this feature of his was found on a woman, he might be enticed by it.

What he didn’t understand was a man finding it attractive on another man. Hard time changed people he supposed. He was able to catch the news story of the evening. And it turned out that the danger threatening children was the same game Mrs. Kline was worried about. At the time, Steve couldn’t make neither heads nor tails of it. But in the hands of a professional journalist, he was able to learn more about Dungeons and Dragons. 

It did seem ghoulish as he listened to them explain how kids playing the game quickly lost touch with reality. Steve worried as he heard that this was happening across the country. But all he could do for now was take care of his town.

The last part of his bedtime ritual was prayers of course. And most days he was able to fall right to sleep. Tonight though, sleep alluded him. He tried to figure out why, today didn’t feel incredibly eventful besides that slap.

The slap.

To have one guy call him ‘not-as-pretty’ only for another to basically proposition him anyway. Could they make up their minds? Clearly they were all interested anyway. Steve saw the way they watched his behind. But such feelings were immoral. Man should not find pleasure with another man, even when women are unavailable.

And bodily pleasures like that were the devils’ wicked ways in the first place. Steve had been told so years ago, when his own father had caught him with his pants down. Steve hadn’t touched himself since, saving his seed for the woman who would one day bear his fruit. He hadn’t met her yet. But God would present her to him soon. 

Steve’s hopes usually led to sweet dreams, but tonight was different. He was at the podium again. The one in the prison. Except instead of sitting in front of him, the men were on all sides. Words from the day echoed in his head but he couldn’t remember the voice, asking him about his vestments. He needed to change into them. 

He had an audience, but there was nothing wrong with changing in front of men. He’d played on teams in school and spent plenty of time in locker rooms. His tie melted off and he undid the buttons on his shirt. The eyes on him felt hungry. What happened to him happened when he had been fully clothed. What would they do to him if he was naked?

Everything else faded from his body like mist and he was bare for the world. He didn’t want them to just look anymore he wanted them to..to…

Steve was on his back, surrounded by darkness. There was something there, above him, something with hungry red eyes.

He was on his front, rutting desperately into his mattress as the dream slipped away from him and his eyes blinked in the morning light. He froze when he realized what he was doing, still panting on his pillow as he came down from it. He moved his hips a little trying to remember what had happened to get him so worked up but couldn’t recall any details. Only a shadow. A dark phantom that had overwhelmed him and-

He stopped that train of thought when he noticed the wet stickiness inside his underwear. Lord, help him.

Part 2

Taglist

[velvetwyrme]

oouuouua please make a follow up on the superhero pap x reader theyre one of my favorites also im excited to see tf fic from yuo

im glad you enjoyed it!!! i got a comment on it recently while i was thinking abt how to continue it and that seemed to click my brain into action LMAO

EHEHEHE hopefully! soon!! ive got a few things in mind but im also waffling over Really Starting because i have so many things ongoing but... auauugh the IDEAS plague me!!!!

also heres a sneak peek into my brain because im in the mood to chatter, but feel free to skip it if you so desire:

for Origin Story im LOOSELY planning any continuation/s to be kinda standalone stories all centered around a superhero trope (like the Origin Story ;]) because i think that could be fun to work with. i enjoyed writing some of the larger Undertale cast, something that i WOULD have liked to do in FF, except Edge and the MC in that are both pretty reclusive socially abfjfbdjdghkf,, oh well.

anyway. i have tons of ideas for the various tropes, so its really a matter of picking a place and Writing. i really want to feature more of Alphys in this because i love her dearly <3

as for TF fic... most of them are reader inserts unsurprisingly lmaooo but ive got a few non-reader inserts floating around there too. im kinda just throwin stuff at the walls of my mind to see what sticks, but heres a few of my draft titles for your perusing pleasure:

into the fire: noble-ish au with a human reader who is supposed to be gifted to one of the members of the household. reader makes a failed escape attempt torn bedsheet style and is saved :] inspired loosely by the visual novels i used to read/play back in high school LMAO. skeletiano, i will forever be sad i could not romance you.

between you, me and soundwave: reader writes rpf abt mechs on earth LMAO. i see people mention humans writing fanfic about Cybertronians in passing but i think itd be funny to put that at the forefront. extremely silly and low stakes fic. probably.

drift compatibility: mecha! pilot! au!! exists purely because i read 1 (one) fic about plugsuits and just went "hmnngh... mecha pilots are fun to imagine interacting with Cybertronians... also there's DRIFT compatibility... i can totally do some fucked up shit with that" and now it's spiralled wildly out of control because at some point i started thinking about Governments and Social Structures and got distracted with worldbuilding lol. i have many many many ideas and i can only hope i can string some of them together so I can EXPLODE it out of my brain either through writing or art. also theres smut that happens wayyyy down the line which ill probably end up writing first and posting separately LMAO

penance is a prison: my take on Titan AU but as a fic because my brain is so so full of thoughts abt this au. i'll probably just end up drawing a lot of these scenes instead but like. its there! partially written!! im emotions abt it!!!

self explanatory long title: human/borrower au constructicons/jazz/prowl poly. i love rare not-so-pairs a lot and im particularly fond of this set. also i just like thinking abt either jazz and prowl getting menaced by a bunch of tiny guys OR the opposite where a group of construction workers have two borrower roommates. this one is more just random idea dumps instead of a fic but still fun to think about LMAO

ALSO! MINI REC. while you wait for me to (eventually maybe) write TF fic, you should check out boostergoldishh's works on ao3 for some tasty tasty TF reader insert fics. im still planning on making a rec list but they updated today and im filled w/ much love for good writing.

and as a bonus if you got this far (thank you!!): the super secret draft chapter title for the next NEXT FF chapter because its pretty silly

if my cowriter sees this hi. ill share the doc soon but its pretty much empty, its just there to remind me whats coming next LMAO 👍

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (1-3)

parts 1, 2, & 3 of ?? | 888 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Wayne is sick and they don't have the money for the treatment he needs. Eddie, desperate and spread thin between school, a part time job, and dealing, spots Steve outside of a gay club and opts for blackmail. Steve, who has heard about Wayne through Dustin... just sort of lets him.

I started writing this while Ao3 is down. Haven't quite finished it yet, but I've got 6.7k written so far, so I should be able to do daily posts for at least a while!

Now also posted on Ao3.

Quick note, if it helps anyone who might be hit too close to home by Wayne's serious but relatively brief health scare. First, he's going to be fine. I love Wayne, I wouldn't do that to him. Second, Dustin's mind goes straight to cancer when he hears that it's serious serious, but Wayne's illness is never specified. The only symptoms described are basically a cough and general weakness/fatigue.

1.

Dustin is really upset one day after school, the day he tells Steve about his dad. 

Steve had never asked, alright? It was family shit, and that kind of thing was. . . . Well, not sacred, he can’t even think that and keep a straight face, but definitely private. There could’ve been any number of reasons why Mr. Henderson wasn’t around. 

Turns out it was cancer.

And . . . it’s not insensitive to wonder, right? Steve doesn't know if it’s an anniversary or if someone’s been giving him shit at school about not having a dad or something. So, after a few bumbling questions about why this is upsetting him now, an explanation comes tumbling out.

The leader or president or whatever of the nerd club Dustin joined at the start of the year had to cancel their game this week. “Eddie never cancels, Steve,” Dustin insists, eyes red from crying and voice gone all squeaky. “And we were giving him shit about it, we all were, even the upperclassmen guys, and he. . . he j-just broke, Steve. Said his uncle is r-really sick, bad sick, and I know what that means. They don’t have the money for treatment. He’s Eddie’s only family, and he’s probably going t-to. . . .”

Steve regrets dropping Robin off at her house first today. She might not know what to say either, but at least they’d be in this together. “Dust, that’s. . . . That’s awful.”

Turns out he doesn’t have to say anything else, because Dustin thumps against him and bawls his eyes out. 

2.

“It was awful, Robs,” Steve says, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he talks into the phone. “I haven’t seen him like that since after Starcourt, when we had to tell him about Hop.”

Robin’s wince is audible in her reply. “Yeah, that's. . . . That’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh, hoping it’ll get some of the constricted feeling out of his chest. It doesn’t.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” It’s just, he hates it. Hated it then and hates it now, because both times there’s no way for him to jump between Dustin and this thing. “Everything was starting to sort of feel okay again, and then suddenly there's Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his uncle, who I’ve never even seen in my life—”

“It’s not about the Munsons, Steve,” Robin says gently. “You and Dustin have that ‘you die I die’ thing. He’s like your kid brother who annoys the shit out of you, but you love him to death anyway. And right now he’s sad but you can’t do anything to help.”

Lifting his face from his hand, Steve looks around the room. He’s on the big comfortable couch in his big fucking house with too many rooms, all empty except for this one. His parents are never home, always away on business trips that got way more frequent after Barbara Holland disappeared from a party he’d hosted. They send money—not an allowance, not since he didn’t get into any of the colleges he’d applied to. But the utility bills are always paid up, and a gardener still comes around to do lawn maintenance every other week.

He wonders how the cost of maintaining a house they don’t live in compares to the cost of whatever kind of treatment Munson’s uncle needs.

Doesn’t let himself wonder if it would make a difference, but he knows that treatments don’t always work. It hadn’t, apparently, for Dustin’s dad.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees heavily. “I know.”

3.

The nice thing about being done with high school and working weekends at a shitty retail job is, Steve can do whatever he wants on some weekdays. As long as he doesn’t have a shift that starts before noon the next day, anyway. Which he doesn’t.

So, a few days after Dustin’s revelations, Steve drives up to the nearest outskirts of Indy. Eventually he ends up in one of those clubs that he and Robin have been researching how to find.

He tells himself that he’s scoping it out before he brings her, but he wants to get lost for a while. Empty his head out of things he can’t do a damn thing about—the Upside Down, the monsters, the Russians, the Munsons, the memories of Dustin crying and, just for funsies, of Nancy calling him bullshit. Because that’s always somewhere in the mix, these days.

Fill it back up with music and movement. Not with drinks, because he still has to get himself back to Hawkins in one piece.

He goes and he dances and he sweats. Sometimes guys dance with him, and Steve goes with it. Who cares? No one knows him here, it doesn’t mean anything.

Turns out, it does mean something after all. 

When Steve finally stumbles his way out of the club, he finds none other than Eddie Munson sitting on the hood of the Beemer he’s been buying off of his parents in installments. (Their idea. It’s a ‘pay for it or lose it’ kind of deal.) 

The buzzing under his sweat-tacky skin—satisfaction at successfully getting out of his head—fizzles out. He keeps walking and stops when he draws even with the car. 

Eddie Munson, looking tired and prickling with restless energy, and exhales a cloud of smoke and vapor into the chilly air. “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

[astralspen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYAAAAAAA

OK SO I HAVE A FIC FOR HIS B-DAY BUT I PROBABLY WONT BE ABLE TO GET IT FINISHED AND POSTED TO AO3 UNTIL LIKE TOMMOROW OR WEDNESDAY SO ILL GIVE EVERYONE A LIL SNIPPET FOR OUR BIRTHDAY BOY

Now, normally, Dazai was never into celebrating. But today, oh today was different. Today, it was Chibi's birthday. Dazai had decided to skip work for the perfect chance at getting under the slugs skin today. He could deal with Kunikidas complaints on missing work pretty much all of last week tomorrow. He went into a brightly colored and well lit shop, and as swiftly as he came in, he was gone with a white plastic bag now in tow. He looked particularly cheery walking on the sidewalk, and he enjoyed his peaceful little stroll all the way to Chuuyas house. The closer he got, the more excited he became. He couldn't wait to see the slugs face when he barged into the orange haired man's apartment, and especially the face said man would make at the wonderful gift he was going to get.

Dazai had gotten to the door and then entered the pin to get in. Silly Chibi, never changing the lock code after all these years. He busted through the door, though he didn't break it this time. He would be a little courteous today, considering the date and all. Though, when Dazai didn't hear an angry slug yelling, or even him running over to the door to see what the noise was, he became a little confused. Was Chuuya really not off today? He thought that Koyou had convinced him to take the day off. Maybe it didn't work? But if that was the case, then why were the extra locks on the door not turned on?

“Chibi~ Where are you~ it's rude to hide from your owner you know!”

…

No reaction? Did something happen? Dazai finally actually stepped into the apartment, and carefully closed the door behind him. Then, cautiously, he looked around the apartment for any signs of the little slug. When he glanced over the couch, he saw Chuuya, but something was off.

Sure, he was in his hilariously adorable pajamas, and even wore the pants Dazai gave to him forever ago as a prank gift. The old joke mug was on the table too, but neither of those were really unusual. After all, Dazai had done this on Chuuyas off days before, and this part was actually relatively normal. He had teased Chuuya a lot about using old gifts from Dazai a lot. Nearly every time he visited, in fact. But no matter what, Chuuya still continued to use them religiously. Even on days Dazai stayed over, he would see Chuuya drinking out of the World's Best Dog mug calmly in the morning, see how he changed into those stupid sheep pants every night. No, what was weird was that Chuuya seemed out of it.

He was staring at an old picture in a worn wooden frame, and it was like Chuuya had lost all awareness of the world around him.

Now, that wouldn't do. How was Dazai supposed to sufficiently annoy the Chibi when he was like this? So he walked up right behind Chuuya, making sure to be silent so Chuuya wouldn't notice him and hide the picture. When he saw it, everything clicked. What did Dazai do in response?

He flung his arms around Chuuya from behind of course!

“Chibiiiiii! You can't neglect your owner like this! What's the point of visiting if my dear little dog won't even pay attention to me?”

Dazai had said it in his most sing-song and pouty voice possible. Chuuya had finally snapped out of it. And swung his head back to look at Dazai.

“huh!? What the hell, Mackerel!? The fuck are you doing at my place!”

“Your hat must have finally eaten your brain if you hadn't realized what day it is! Why wouldn't I visit my dear dog on such a special day~”

“stop calling me your fucking dog! Of course I didn't forget what day it is! I just thought you had the sense to remember that I don't fucking celebrate it. Did the agency finally make you lose all your damn sense?”

“Chibis so mean! I even bothered to get you a present, and you still bully me!”

There, Chuuya had finally put the picture down on the table.

“I swear to fucking God if you got me a replacement for that dumbass slug shirt I'm throwing you out the damn window.”

“Rude! I would never reuse the same joke!”

“Yes the fuck you would!”

“Hmph! Well, either way, I got you something even better!”

This was my first time grabbing a writing snippet so sorry if it starts and ends weirdly TAT Hope you like it though and of course Happy Birthday to our little mafioso!

[okifyouinsist]

tagged by @killerandhealerqueen (i just keep forgetting abt this one SIGH but i have free time rn and im committed)

1. why did you choose your url?

growing up, i just wasn't a social media girl purely bc of the fact that my parents were super strict and I assumed they wouldn't allow me to have it and I just never really saw the appeal anyways. Then later a few friends basically forced me to make my first account and because i wasn't very creative and thought i was the funniest bitch ever i made my first user 'ifyouinsist' and it just kinda stuck ig

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

nope. i fear if i had a sideblog id end up neglecting it and forget abt it or make it my new main blog and neglect this blog and this blog is literally my baby

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

well i've had an account since like end of 2019, beginning of 2020???? (im pretty sure) i didnt like use my account tho i just had it to look at other ppls blogs not my own, i only acc recently made up my blog up properly and started posting this year when it was like 2 am and i was on holiday to visit my home country and my mum and my aunts were gossiping and i was like whatever who tf cares how late i am to a fandom and the rest was history

4. do you have a queue tag?

nope, my drafts are a terrifying place and if they ever saw light id die

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

to reblog pretty art and to compliment writers on ao3 AND on tumblr bc they deserve everything and more

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

logan sargeant. need i say any more???? hes my bsf in spirit

7. why did you choose your header?

loscar. LOSCAR. loscar. i am very much totally normal abt them i swear (lying through my teeth rn). they're just my everything unfortunately and sometimes i like to say the fist bump is their version of intertwining their fingers together

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

ik this bc it was the first i myself made and it was abt loscar obviously and i thought i was SO funny (im not) and its lowk still such a flop post but its MY flop post so here it is :)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk man im shy (scared of rejection) so i dont have a lot, like genuinely let me go see acc, oh ig its me and my 14 moots against the world i love you guys fr

10. how many followers do you have?

BYE my 26 followers are my 4 lifers fr (im such a flop this is hilarious)

11. how many people do you follow?

37 (sigh need to follow more ppl RN)

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

im gonna be so real idk what defines as a shit post but most probably yeah

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

idk im acc really inconsistent like ill be MIA for 2 whole days and the next week ill be on tumblr like for most of my day when i can its very confusing like today ive not been on it a lot im academically locking in and all that

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

ummm no. like. if i see someone i follow getting hate ill send them a supportive ask and then at the end of it be like anon ur such a loser get a life but other than that. nope.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

im very much neutral abt them, like idc if i need to reblog it yk if i want to i will if i dont then i wont

16. do you like tag games?

YES (said in a very normal voice)

17. do you like ask games

YES. i love getting asks id cry if someone sent an ask (i have one rotting away from a moot rn i WILL answer it i swear)

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

can i say all my moots. i wanna say all my moots they're all famous in my eyes guys, i start tagging its gonna end with all my moots being tagged but like @killerandhealerqueen and @dwarvenchords were the first 2 ppl to come to my mind theyre both just the coolest fr

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah. i have FRIEND crushes on literally all of them tho. wanna be their friends SO bad

20. what is the last song you listened to?

Mamichula- Bizarrap

21. what are you currently watching?

in my docuseries era rn watching breakpoint (STILL)(i only have time on the weekends rn SIGH)

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

sweet. im such a 'lets skip the dinner and just get dessert' kinda girl

23. what is your current relationship status?

this is SUCH a complicated question to answer but heavily leaning more towards single

24. what is your current obsession?

sports. like just sports in general. like ive always been a casual fan of sports but i never used to take a deep dive into it but this year i decided to dive, and i dived VERY deep, so like motorsports, tennis, football, cricket, trying to get into hocky rn im collecting them atp. also. documentaries. like when i get time ill be binge watching like 5 documentaries i just love them sm

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

wish i could tell you fr, i mean, rn im re listening to SOUR by Olivia Rodriguez AGAIN bc thats the way my life is going SIGH, Olivia is my favourite basic artist fr, nothing compares to listening to SOUR for the first time in 2021

ANYWAYS, thanks again for the tag i really appreciate it, im gonna tag @ezisregrettinglifedecisions @fabeong @whatssthepooiintt

[nevertheless-moving]

Hi! I love your writing snippets - have you thought about posting them on ao3

Thank you!! Yes, I have thought about it, for sure! I'm nevertheless_turtle on ao3.

(I have... six fics, all of them star wars, half of them unfinished, last one updated in January 2022. Unless someone decides to put a million dollars in my kofi jar, this is for Fun, so unfortunately once the hyperfixation fades...it fades*.

:( star wars back and forth tumblr fics with star wars mutuals my beloved... murderbot discord i loved collaborative storytelling with ya'll and i miss you...i don't know how to make friends on the internet i just talk blorbos in situations and my blorbos drift over time... hello stormlight archive fandom)

! anyone want to talk about putting my type of blorbo, which when i check my notes is a pathetic wet person who is very good at killing but somewhat tries to avoid it, if you want to talk putting someone like that in a Situation, Hey! i may or may not be your person. this ask is really getting away from me i might be tired from walking a bunch of miles today...

*i do historically cycle back around to fandoms! i was lurking on tumblr for over a decade before i posted anything and there was definitely a cyclical nature to it! i consistently knit furiously for 3 months and then take a 4 year break! star wars fics wait for me!

aNYWAY writing fic directly into Tumblr adn/or Discord or if i don't have internet connection then a fuckin shitty notes app appears to be the Key for me?? like i tried fic writing before that in Word or Docs and it just didn't go?? idk! I think it's like the comic sans trick.

wait i still haven't answered the question.

you know, the thing is, when i write a snippet at the end of 5 paragraphs of background meta for an au, or a literal bullet point list, i'm not really sure how to post that to ao3. can you post chatfic and bullet points to ao3? it feels weird? idk. real question for the crowd in the midst of an extremely incoherent ask answer. let me know what you think!

me to myself: the question. scroll back up. what was the question. myself to me: that was answering the question! somewhat!

Right now a bunch of fic writing is churning around and out of brain, and circumstances have aligned for better or worse such that i have time and mental energy and ideas to write. we'll see how it goes. Once I get a bit more posted on tumblr i'll probably put things together and either make seperate works for different aus, or a masterwork of different tumblr aus that i don't think i'll develop further. i may turn some of those bulletpoint lists into cleaner fics for posting, making my earlier point moot.

some of my aus i already have a bunch written on my phone over meals or stopped in the middle of a side walk or on bus and train rides (why would an ELEVEN HOUR TRAIN RIDE not have an outlet to charge my laptop??). so. if i clean that stuff up ill probably post it to tumblr, then immediately notice the spelling mistakes, edit, then post to ao3.

a perfect system.

for my most recent snippet, well, that's actually self contained (not an au that requires 6 paragraphs of background to understand the snippet) and not a chat fic, so i WAS thinking i would just post it to ao3 soonish. i asked in the tags if anyone felt like betaing for ao3, i am wildly but unquestioningly assuming that the sorta individual who would want to beta a fic for me are reading the tags on my tumblr fic post. if anyone likes betaing stormlight or is interested in betaing a specific au/fic idea i've mentioned, hit me up.

TLDR above, tumblr is a for fun rough draft looser writing form place for me. ao3 feels like its asking for a bit more polish and structure. i have writing bees in my brain right now so i'm slightly more focused on that then editing, but if anyone feels like doing some form of beta, reach out and we can chat about it. regardless, i will clean up at least some of my recent snippets and post to ao3 eventually.

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

A recap of 2023

so this is the year I wrote. I wrote more than I have ever done and so I thought it would be nice to look back on 2023 and look a little further back as well.

I used to write fanfic, I think I started about 14 years ago. I am not a native speaker and my English definitely needed some work then. I also have so many qualms about my old writing (I apparently hadn't found out about paragraphs yet), but we all have to start writing somewhere.

I stopped writing little by little, feeling burned out and completely stopped in 2018 (for various reasons). I don't think I wrote anything at all in 2019 or very little. In 2020 I dipped my toes in again with a few oneshots.

End of 2021 is when I started writing again and finally came back to writing Harry Potter fanfic. I started out with a longfic of 70K words! It was a struggle and I think it's like a muscle that wasn't being used. A Guiding Light is the fic that got me back in and I posted it throughout 2022.

And then I started two new fics because I was inspired again. I started posting those at the end of 2022/start of 2023. Knight of Mine and Peverell's Progeny have both surpassed the word count of Guiding Light with ease. It was never my purpose to get to a certain word count, and it is not what I focus on, but going from nearly 0 words in 2020 and slowly increasing, it's amazing to see myself putting out so many words.

And as well this year I focused less on what things I think people want to read and got a little more self-indulgent and it is so rewarding. It really makes me enjoy writing it even more.

My mental health has been shit before and it really took a nose dive in 2018, but this year I finally started feeling like myself again. My anxiety has gotten so much better and in turn I have been sick way less (although I did knock it out of the park at the start of the year with about 5 weeks of various illnesses) so I feel like I can enjoy life more in general. I am not sure if my writing helped me get there or if I am writing more because I am feeling better. All in all, I think writing has been helping me get through various things and it is one of the only things I enjoy doing consistently.

I haven't kept exact track of how much I wrote in the last year but based on my AO3 statistics as they are today (26th of Dec), I think it's safe to say that 2023 has surpassed all the others before.

You can see the majority of what I wrote, 414K of a total 541K, has been posted in the last year. It's crazy to think about. A lot of people found my writing as well this year and it's been so amazing getting that feedback ...as well as crazy paternity guesses with emojis, begging me for horse smut (that is still a no-you know who you are) and bribing me to update early... they really do make my day and some of you are too funny for your own good.

Looking ahead a little, I want to see what else I can achieve in the upcoming year. I am not setting any specific goals for myself other than continuing to work on my ongoing fics and not starting too many new ones (*pushes Pirate AU back under the bed*) Buut I am curious how much writing I actually get up to and so I made myself a little tracker.

Bullet journaling is the only other hobby aside from writing that I seem to be able to do consistently. I just kind of fell out of it in the summer of 2022 and finally picked it back up again for 2024. I think when I wasn't writing, it was a good different outlet for me and I still enjoy it. It simply slipped out of my habits, especially when I moved out on my own last year and I was too focused on keeping up with chores and other stuff. Now I am a little more organised, so I do hope to keep it up. It will also force me to do something else than writing once in a while, which is probably healthy for me.

This tracker looks a little chaotic, I know, but i wanted to get everything on one page. Maybe next year I can tell you exactly how much I wrote.

And word counts are nice but I think improving is also important and I do feel like I have managed to learn a lot of things this year and I will continue to do so in the coming year. I take great inspiration from other people's writing. I always get inspired when I read an especially good fic (which often ends up with me starting a new WIP, send help) and I discover new ways to put in descriptions or how to phrase something a certain way. And talking to other fic writers on here, or discord, is also where I learn a lot. A ton of you are so talented and it is such a joy to be able to discuss things, pick your brains and get feedback. Sometimes I just learn things by reading along to someone else's discussion. Sometimes you find answers to questions you didn't know to ask!

I also want to thank my beta readers, who have read so many words this year. They are so FAST and then apologise for being slow. I cherish them so much.

If you read up to this point, thank you! If you've read a fic of mine this year, thank you as well. If you left me kudos or comments, recced me... you get a little kiss on the forehead.

If you have achievements of your own this year that you are proud of, do share them! (Reblog or send me an ask, I want to hear about it!) Let's celebrate all the work you put in!

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Under The Weather (A Hero-Centric Sick Fic)

When Hero has to cancel his visit home due to illness, Kel gets worried and calls in some reinforcements to take care of him. Kel knows there is nothing that upsets his brother more than being fussed over and worried about, but maybe he'll let himself be taken care of just this once...

Genre: Sick Fic, Slice of Life and Hurt/Comfort. Friendship and Kel & Hero's Brotherly Love. Post-Good Ending. Self-Indulgent. Hero Deserves To Be Happy.

Characters: Hero (POV Character), Kel (POV Character), and Zoey (OC). Sally and the parents make brief appearances. Mari and Sunny are mentioned.

Relationships: Hero and Kel's Brotherly Bond. Kel and Zoey (OC) Friendship. Hero and Zoey (OC) Friendship [Could be Hero/OC if you really wanted, but this story take place mid-extremely slow burn so they'd swear they're just friends here]. Past Hero/Mari is implied, referenced, and mentioned.

Word Count: 11,886

Rating: G

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort. Some mentions of grief. Mentioned flu and flu-like symptoms. Sick Character. Referenced Canonical Character Death. OMORI SPOILERS. There is a little angst, but it wraps up with brotherly love and Hero actually being happy and taken care of after the good ending (who knew we'd live to see the day...)

⛅This story is part of the "When Sun Shines Again" universe & includes specific references to "Am I Ready For Love? Or Maybe Just A Best Friend" but it should stand-alone and make sense without reading any of that. 

A/N: It's my birthday and this is my (Acacia's) self-indulgent present to myself. 😁Thank you for indulging me!

Link to work on AO3. Full text below the cut.

Thank you for reading! 🧡💙☂️

Kel glanced over at the clock, watching as the second hand barely ticked away. He generally wasn’t this distracted or antsy at basketball practice, even when his coach called an emergency practice after school on a Friday when everyone was naturally jittery with anticipation for the weekend. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything today—found himself zoning out until something collided with the back of his head.

“Ouch!” he yelped, rubbing his hand across the spot the basketball had just bounced off of him. That was definitely going to leave a mark. Some of his teammates snickered while a few offered shrugs of apologies. His coach huffed, crossing his arms clearly unamused.

“What is going on with you today?”

“Sorry, coach,” he mumbled sheepishly—scratching the back of his neck. “My brother’s coming home from college for the weekend, so I guess I’ve been a little distracted.”

His coach frowned. “Well you can run out that distraction by running laps around this gym. 10 laps—go!”

Kel sighed, but he sprinted off for his laps. If he was being perfectly honest, he didn’t mind. If he was lucky, maybe running laps would help time pass faster. He’d try anything that would help time pass faster. Hero was coming home, and he couldn’t wait to see him.

When practice finally wrapped up, he practically sprinted out to his car and, though it likely would have worried his mother, he sped home at, at least, a solid 10 mph above the speed limit. He hoped he hadn’t missed Hero’s arrival—though he knew he had a class this morning and wouldn’t have been able to leave until later in the day, then he had what was probably a 3-hour drive taking traffic into account, so maybe time was on his side.

When he pulled onto his street, he was relieved to see that Hero’s car was not in the driveway, and as he ran through the doorway into the house, he called, “Have you heard from Hero at all?” Do you know what time he’s coming?”

With an affectionate chuckle, his mom looked up from the block structure she had been building with Sally. “Well, welcome home to you too, Kel. Did you have a good day at school? How was basketball practice?”

“It was fine,” he said with a shrug, trying to ignore that lump on the back of his head. “But have you—?”

“Wanna play ‘zoo,’ Kel?” Sally interrupted with a bright smile as she held up some of the colorful, plastic animals he and Hero had bought her for her birthday. “You can have any ammimals you want.” She stared up at him with wide, expectant eyes as she handed him an elephant. Kel smiled, patting his little sister on the head.

“Thanks, Sally. We’ll play in a minute, okay?” He paused, turning back to his mother. “Mom—”

“I haven’t heard from him since this morning. He was supposed to call before he left, but maybe he got busy or forgot,” she cut him off with a slight shake of her head. “I hope he’ll make it back in time for dinner.”

“I’ll call him,” exclaimed Kel reaching for the telephone receiver. As Kel began to dial the number he knew by heart, he stopped—wondering if it would be better to call Hero’s cell phone. They were all still adjusting to the fact that he had gotten one. It made their mother feel safer and more secure, knowing that Hero had a way to call for help in an emergency, but since he had limited, prepaid minutes, they all still usually communicated with him by calling the landline at the fraternity house where he lived. In this case, however, Kel was hoping that Hero was already on his way, in which case, his cell phone would be the best way to get ahold of him.

“What if he’s driving?” sighed Mom as Kel began to flip through the address book they kept near the phone. When he found the number, Kel shrugged.  

“Then he won’t answer, and I’ll just leave a message.”

“Tell him about my zoo,” giggled Sally, and Kel nodded. As he held the phone to his ear, the ringing of the telephone mingled with Sally’s best impression of a lion. A smile tugged at his mouth as he watched as his sister began to set her animal toys in the block zoo she had been building with their mother.

He was so distracted he almost didn’t hear the slow, heavy breath followed by a hoarse, groggy, “Hello?”

Kel’s brow furrowed. “Hero? Uh…it’s Kel…” He stumbled over his words, worried he had dialed the wrong number. The person on the other line barely sounded like his brother at all. There was more wheezy breathing as if Hero couldn’t catch his breath, followed by an audible gasp and a stumbling, almost panicky, “Kel? Oh my gosh—what time is it?”

“Um…around 6:00, I think.”

“I’m so sorry,” apologized Hero, sounding like himself again besides the hoarse breathiness of his voice. “I wasn’t feeling well so I lied down to take a nap before I left, and I must have completely lost track of time.” His voice cracked and hitched—raspy and wheezy before he finally burst into a fit of nasty, phlegmy coughing.

“You sound terrible. Are you sick?”

“He’s sick?” interjected their mother bustling around him in a fidgety panic. “What’s wrong? Did he see a doctor? Does he have a fever?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” huffed Kel, but he was promptly cut off by Hero.

“Mom’s there?” There was something concerned and guilty in his already weary voice. “Tell her not to worry. I’m fine. My friends have been passing this bug around. I’m the last one to catch it. I’ll probably be better in a couple days.”

Kel nodded before he realized his brother couldn’t see him; then, he turned to his mom giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “He says all his friends have had this bug. It only lasts a day or two. He’s gonna be fine.”

“Tell him to take medicine, get lots of rest, and drink plenty of water and to keep checking his temperature,” his mother began rambling. “If it reaches 103, he needs to call a doctor or go to urgent care.”

“Mom,” sighed Kel. “Hero’s gonna be a doctor. I’m sure he knows all that.”

“You can hand the phone off to Mom If you want. I’ll talk to her,” Hero weakly interjected before he started coughing again. “I’m really sorry I’ll have to postpone my visit, but I’m not well enough to drive and I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

“It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re alright? That’s a really nasty cough.” Kel bit his lip, trying not to sound nearly as concerned as he felt. His fingers trembled as they gripped onto the receiver. As he looked in his mother’s face, he knew she was worried too and likely for the same reason: Hero never got sick.

“I’m fine,” he insisted but his raspy voice and coughing fit seemed to imply otherwise. “Don’t worry about me. I’m probably just going to make some instant ramen and go to bed.”

“But you hate instant ramen…”

“He’s making instant ramen,” interjected their mother. “Tell him to try to eat something healthier—more hearty like soup.”

“Mom—” Kel began to protest before Hero cut him off with a weary sigh.

“I just didn’t have the energy to make anything else…” Hero’s voice trailed, and Kel swallowed hard.

“Is there someone there who can take care of you?” he asked, and Hero sighed again.

“I don’t want to bother anyone or get them sick. Besides they’re all heading out to this party tonight.” He paused, coughing again. “But it’s fine. I’m really okay, Kel, just a little under the weather.”

Kel sighed heavily. He wished he could believe him, but Hero had always had this way of deflecting and belittling his own problems because he didn’t want people to worry. This had gotten especially bad over the past couple of years. Ever since their fight, it seemed like Hero would never tell him that anything was wrong ever again. Kel’s chest ached. His brother could be dying right now, and he’d have no idea.

“Hero—” He stopped abruptly, unsure of what he even wanted to say. It would probably just be the wrong thing anyway, so it might be better if he just didn’t say anything at all.

“I’m okay, Kel,” Hero gently insisted again. “And I’m sorry…but we’ll see each other another time. Maybe next weekend or the weekend after? Whenever I’m not contagious anymore.”

Kel sighed, but he finally answered, “Yeah…You just take care, okay? Do you want me to put Mom on now?”

Hero hummed, and Kel handed the phone off to their mother who started blustering and prattling away about cold medicine, sponge baths, and electrolytes. Kel didn’t catch most of it, but he did clearly hear, “I wish you had someone up there to take care of you.” Kel let out a long, heavy sigh. He certainly felt the same way, but that definitely wasn’t going to happen. Hero hated asking for help more than he hated instant ramen.

“Is Hero gonna be, okay?” asked Sally, tugging on his arm. Kel gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah. He’s just a little sick right now, but he’ll be fine. Then he’ll come visit and see your zoo.” He took Sally’s hand and led her back to the blocks and toys. “Here, I’ll help you with it.”

Helping Sally with her zoo project did not distract Kel nearly as much as he hoped. He was constantly distracted by worries about Hero and how bad his health was—if he was really telling them the whole story. He didn’t usually get sick after all, and he sounded horrible. What if he had a flu or something and needed medical attention? He could at least use someone who could check in on him and make sure he was getting water and enough to eat that wasn’t instant ramen. But Kel wasn’t sure who that would even be. Unless…

Impulsively, Kel raced upstairs to his room to grab the notecard where he had written Hero’s friend Zoey’s phone number after she had offered to let him call her whenever he got stuck on his math homework. Kel had used to call Hero with all his homework trouble, but after Hero himself was stumped by a particularly difficult math problem, his brother had suggested they ask his friend who was an engineering major and, Hero insisted, a math genius. Best of all, she had just so happened to be hanging out with him when Kel had called. Zoey had quickly solved and walked him through the problem, then several others. Then she generously offered that he could call her with any other questions—which he had multiple times. Honestly, he’d probably be failing math right now if it wasn’t for her.

He talked to her all the time, sometimes it seemed, even more than Hero, though Kel often thought he probably got a more accurate account of how Hero was actually doing from her than if he had just asked his brother himself. He could only be told ‘I’m fine, just busy’ so many times before it started sounding automatic and rehearsed. Zoey at least told him the truth: he’s stressed about upcoming exams, busy cooking food for a party his fraternity was hosting, or groggy from staying up all night studying. Kel sighed. He understood if his brother wanted to keep a lot of his life private, but, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a little to be cut off from his reality by dismissive ‘I’m fine’s. He knew Hero didn’t want him to worry and was likely just trying to protect him from that, but still…he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his own fault. Hero probably didn’t want to tell him he was stressed out, overwhelmed, or sick because he was worried Kel would just say the wrong thing, just like he had when Hero had gotten so depressed after Mari had died.

Neither of them ever wanted that to happen again so they just didn’t really say much of anything anymore—at least not much of anything that mattered. Sure, they still talked—so much and so often that Kel knew the phone number to Hero’s fraternity house by heart, but it barely scratched the surface, never touched anything deep or meaningful. In a way, it felt hollow, distant—like Hero was only showing him a hazy impression of his life, enough to reassure Kel he was doing okay but not enough that he could feel like he actually knew him anymore, at least not like he had when they were younger and Hero had told him everything. It was getting better—had been over the past two years since they had learned the truth, but…Kel knew things would never go back to the way they were. He should probably be used to that by now. His brother was a very private person, and he probably always would be.

And by the time Kel had dialed the number and listened to two rings of the telephone, he realized with a somewhat sheepish sigh that he probably should have been a little more respectful of that. His hands began to tremble as he clutched onto the receiver—genuinely starting to worry he was crossing a line. Zoey was one of Hero’s best friends, and Hero might be embarrassed to know his younger brother had been calling her to ask if she’d check up on him.

Before he could even begin to consider hanging up, however, someone answered the phone with a “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, this is Kel. Is Zoey there?”

The young woman on the other line laughed. “Scotty, how are you?”  she asked, and Kel’s mouth curved into a bright smile. He knew immediately it was her. She was the only person in the world who called him ‘Scotty.’ Zoey had explained to him once it had to do with his talent for fixing things, just like “Scotty the Miracle Man,” a reference to some old tv show Zoey said she had used to watch with her dad. It didn’t bother Kel that he didn’t get the reference. He was honestly just kind of excited to have a nickname. After all, he had never really had one besides ‘Kel’ before and that was just a shortened version of his name. He had always kind of wanted one, just like Hero, but he had never told anyone that before.

“I’m good,” he replied with a chuckle. “You?”

Zoey hummed. “I’m doing okay—been kind of busy. You stuck on your math homework again?”

“Well yeah,” Kel admitted with a shrug. “But that wasn’t why I was calling. Is this a bad time?”

“Nope. Most of my sorority sisters are headed out to this party, so that’s probably what you’re hearing in the background.”

Kel’s brow furrowed. He heard some background chatter and rustling noises, but it was all kind of faint—nothing he would have thought was worth mentioning if Zoey hadn’t brought it up herself. “You’re not going to the party?”

“I have a project due next week, and honestly, parties aren’t really my scene. Don’t tell your brother, but I really don’t think I’d have a good time without him there anyway. We’re usually the only sober ones, and drunk company’s really not all it’s cracked up to be,” she replied dryly, and Kel laughed but shrugged his shoulders.

“Have you talked to Hero at all?”

“Not since yesterday. Did he make it home okay?”

Kel sighed. “He’s not coming. He’s sick.” Kel paused—sighing again and trying not to sound too disappointed. “He called like 45 minutes ago—has this terrible cough. He says he caught some bug or something and isn’t well enough to drive.”

“I knew this would happen,” huffed Zoey though she sounded more guilty than upset. “We’ve all been passing this flu around, and Hero’s been trying to take care of everyone so, of course, he got sick himself.”

“A flu?” interrupted Kel. He shook his head. So Hero had been underexaggerating again…? He should’ve known.

“I’m sure he’s going to be okay,” Zoey reassured him. “He has a really strong immune system—barely ever gets sick. It’s one of the reasons he’s going to be a great doctor. Don’t worry. I had this flu too—got over it in a couple days.”

“He got it from you?” teased Kel, and Zoey laughed.

“Probably from Kyle. They are roommates. But we’ve all had it. Hero’s the last one.” Zoey paused, sighed. “We really didn’t think he was going to get sick.”

“Yeah he uh…usually doesn’t, but he sounded pretty miserable when I talked to him earlier today. Said the only thing he could eat was instant ramen.”

“He hates instant ramen,” Zoey interjected, and Kel shook his head with a sigh.

“I know.” He paused thoughtfully then tried to ask as nonchalantly as he could manage, “Hey…uh…do you think you could bring him over some food or something? Just so he wouldn’t have to keep eating instant ramen. I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything, but since you already had it, maybe you could just drop it off and maybe check in to make sure he’s doing okay…?” His voice trailed, and he bit his lip as he waited for her answer.

“I’m not much of a cook, Scotty,” chuckled Zoey. “But I could stop by a restaurant or Other Mart to pick up a couple things and drop them off for him. You know it’s only going to make him feel guilty though. He’ll help anybody that needs him without batting an eye, but the minute you try to turn it around and return the favor, it’s suddenly a big deal.”

Shaking his head slightly, Kel sighed. “Yeah…that’s just Hero for you.”

When Zoey sighed herself, Kel imagined she was shaking her head with the same somewhat affectionate exasperation, but she hummed thoughtfully. “I’m sure he’s feeling pretty miserable right now, and not just because he’s sick. He’s been so excited to see you—talked about practically nothing else for the past couple weeks.”

“Really?” The question slipped out before Kel could stop it, and his face flushed. Luckily, she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, of course,” Zoey chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t know if I’ve ever known anyone who’s so excited to see his brother. I mean, I love my brother, but the way Hero talks about you—it’s like you’re the most important person in the whole world, his best friend.”

“I don’t think I’m his best friend anymore,” mumbled Kel without thinking.

“Hey…” Zoey’s tone of voice softened—something gentle and sympathetic in it. “If you’re talking about me or Kyle or Brandi, C.J., Lorraine, Tamra…yeah, we’re all Hero’s friends and we all care about him, but none of us are you. And we’re never going to be you, Scotty. You’ll always be number one.”

“I dunno,” sighed Kel. He was pretty sure he lost that spot when he was insensitive, said all the wrong things after Mari died—when he hurt his brother, broke him.

“I don’t really know if it’s my place to say but…” Zoey began tentatively, but she let out a conceding sigh. “You know the only time I ever really see Hero happy is when he talks about you—about how amazing you are and how proud he is. His face just lights up, and he smiles for real—it actually reaches his eyes.”

Kel’s face grew warm, but he stifled a chuckle. It was funny to hear her say that considering he would have said the exact same thing about her. They all would have. It was Sunny who had noticed it first, actually, on account of the fact he lived in the city and Hero often invited him to hang out with him and his friends. Kel would never forget how he had excitedly told him, Aubrey, and Basil all about what it had been like to see Hero smile again. They almost hadn’t believed him, but then Hero had come home on a break and told him about how he got caught in the rain with some friend of his, a spunky engineering major who thankfully had a red umbrella. In the middle of his story, Hero’s face had lit up and he had smiled just like Sunny had said, a real smile that actually reached his eyes. Kel’s chest ached just thinking about it—about how much he wished his brother would smile like that all time, about how much he wished he would be happy again.

Kel took a long, deep breath. Could it really be possible that Hero smiled like that when he talked about him too? He couldn’t really believe that. Not after everything that had happened.

“He really loves you, you know?” Zoey continued quietly, and Kel fidgeted. Could she read his mind or something? “If the situation was reversed and you were sick and he was hours away, he’d be calling your friends too—having Aubrey and Basil go check up on you and make sure you’re doing okay. He’d probably be calling your parents all the time for updates too. Everyone in Faraway Town would be keeping an eye on you for him.”

Something twisted in Kel’s chest, and his eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell him I’m worried.” His voice hitched over his words—quiet, small, like he was that little boy cowering in the corner watching Hero break again.

“You can tell him yourself,” Zoey gently encouraged. “I’m sure he—”

“You know about our fight, right?” Kel interrupted without thinking. He swallowed hard—the only sound during the long, heavy pause which followed. It probably crossed a line to ask that. He didn’t even know if she knew, but Hero had told him he had told Zoey about Mari, had told her a lot of things that he didn’t think he’d ever tell anyone. It wouldn’t have surprised Kel if their fight was one of them.

“Yes,” Zoey finally admitted—quiet, matter-of-fact. “He told me.”

Kel huffed lightly, breathily almost a disbelieving laugh. “Then you know why I can’t just call him up and tell him I’m—” His voice hitched, and he stopped abruptly.  

“Kel—” she began to protest, but he cut her off.

“And you also know that it’s all my fault that we’re not—” He stopped abruptly—the words getting caught in the back of his throat. He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed hard.

“That’s not the story he told me.”

Something twisted in Kel’s chest. He couldn’t imagine what else his brother could have possibly said. Even if Hero had tried his best to protect him with his account and paint him in a better light so Zoey wouldn’t hate him, he couldn’t change the fact that it was his pushy and insensitive words that had broken him, right? He was the one who had made him feel guilty, made him feel like it was his fault he was so depressed, like he could just snap out of it somehow, like he wasn’t doing enough, and worst of all, like he was disrespecting Mari. He was the one who had said all the wrong things, who hadn’t been sensitive or kind enough like Hero himself would have been if the situation had been reversed. He was the one who said this wasn’t what Mari would have wanted, and he was the one who watched while those words broke his brother. He was the one who had broken him.

No version of the story Hero could have possibly told anyone could have changed that, but he supposed it was really none of his business.

“You know, Kel,” Zoey continued with a heavy sigh. “Sometimes we put up walls between ourselves and the people we love because we’re afraid of hurting them. It doesn’t mean we don’t love them—it just means we don’t know how.”

Kel’s chest ached, but he swallowed hard. “And you’re saying Hero’s like that?” He paused, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “With you?”

“With everyone.” She hadn’t missed a beat. Kel supposed he admired that about her. She could be so honest but so kind too, and she knew Hero so well. Kel could tell that she cared about him and was a good friend. Both she and Hero vehemently insisted they were nothing more than that, and Kel believed them—which is why his question probably crossed a line, why Zoey felt compelled to add, “Not just me. You know that we’re not—”

“Yeah, sorry,” stumbled Kel interrupting as he shifted and fumbled around with the phone in his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just—”

“It’s okay,” she thankfully cut him off. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting the wrong idea. We get teased enough as it is by our friends—I can tell it bothers him. He won’t say, but I know it’s a touchy subject…”

“Do you think he’ll ever…uh…you know…?” he stumbled over the question, feeling guilty for even asking though he was desperate to hear another opinion that wasn’t the dismal ones he, Aubrey, Basil, and Sunny could generally come up with. Given the way he had tripped over his words, he wasn’t sure she’d even understand what he was trying to say, but she sighed.

“Honestly…I don’t know.” She paused thoughtfully. “But I do know that he’s not ready right now.”

Kel’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t exactly the answer he was expecting. “He told you that?” he asked before he could stop himself.

There was a long pause before Zoey answered, “Yes.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, pragmatic, and unreadable, but she sighed heavily. “Scotty, if you want to talk to Hero I feel like you should. He’s your brother. You should be hearing all this stuff from him—not me. It’s really none of my business.”

“He won’t talk to me.” Kel’s face flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Zoey sighed.

“Kel…”

“It’s fine. It’s just…the way it is, you know?” he shrugged, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t even tell me how sick he was.”

“He didn’t want you to worry.”

Kel huffed. “Well, I did anyway.”

“I’ll go check on him, okay?” Her voice softened—kind and sympathetic, almost reassuring. “But he’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. Then, I’ll call you later and tell you all about how he’s feeling better already.” She paused chuckling. “Okay?”

Kel sighed, but he shrugged his shoulders conceding, “Okay.”

“Good. Now what’s that math problem you’re stuck on?”

Kel snorted a laugh in spite of himself. “You think we have time for that?”

“Unless you want me to tell your brother you called specifically to ask me to check up on him, then yeah—I’m gonna have to actually help you with your homework,” she quipped dryly. “I think there’s a special place in hell for the kind of person who’d lie to Hero.”

Reaching for his math textbook, Kel laughed. “Alright…Well in that case, it’s another one of those functions…”

*-*-*

Wearily rubbing his eyes, Hero groaned. He was so exhausted it took all of his strength just to roll over onto his side so he could reach his bottle of water. He knew it was important for him to stay hydrated, even without his mother reminding him, and was truthfully desperate for something to drink given how hoarse and sore his throat was after he had just woken up.

Coughing, he managed to take a few sips before he sunk back down into his bed. Sunny had once rated it a 9 out of 10, but now Hero would probably rate it an 11, the most comfortable bed on earth. He never wanted to leave it ever, ever again—but that was probably just the flu talking.

Hero couldn’t remember the last time he had had the flu. He rarely ever got sick. Contracting what he had originally thought was a cold was a surprise enough, but he had just chalked it up to being a little under the weather and tried to push through it—until he had crashed that afternoon after a coughing fit—chilled, aching, and too tired to even move. By the time he woke up to answer Kel’s call, he was honestly miserable—phlegmy, wheezy, shivering, and so feverish he could barely put a sentence together. Even now, his head throbbed, and his thoughts were cloudy and muddled. He felt disoriented and too exhausted to even think too hard.

Hero sighed. He should probably take his temperature again—make sure it wasn’t too dangerously high. It barely took any time at all for the thermometer to ding—flashing a whopping 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Hero took a long, deep breath, or at least as deep as he could manage given his nasty cough. A fever that high certainly explained why he felt so crummy. He reached for some tissues and blew his nose before he coughed again. It would probably be best if he just went back to sleep.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally started drooping closed, but Hero was distracted by rustling noises he heard downstairs. His brow furrowed. He thought his entire fraternity was out at a party. Had someone come back early?

The sound of footsteps walking up the stairs echoed through the hallway, followed by a knock on the door to his room.

“Uh…Come in…?” Hero mumbled unsurely in a hoarse voice before he coughed again. He tilted his head at the door as it swung open, and Zoey walked in with two bags—one paper, one plastic.

“You look terrible,” she teased dryly, but her freckled nose wrinkled as she smiled at him brightly enough that it reached her green eyes.

“Zoey?” Hero stumbled slowly, breathily. He rubbed his head—unsure if he was seeing things. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick so I brought you some soup and a Hero sandwich but I put that in the refrigerator since I thought you probably weren’t up for solid food yet.” She reached into the paper bag and took out a plastic spoon and a to-go container of soup from his favorite soup and sandwich place in the city.

“Thank you…” Hero’s voice trailed as he struggled to catch his breath.

“It was nothing, especially compared to the homemade soup you made me when I was sick.” With a thoughtful hum, she ran her hand through her short, red hair and began fumbling around in the plastic bag. “I’ve also got you some sports drinks, water, cough drops, tissues, tea, and VapoRub.”

 “You really didn’t have to do that…” Hero insisted in a raspy whisper. “How much do I owe you?”

Zoey waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my co-op semester so I’m basically rolling in money.” She chuckled lightly. “Plus, I wanted to do this for you. What are friends for, right? And I mean, I’m the reason you got sick.”

Hero shook his head weakly as he took a long breath. “No, you’re not.”

“Right. Sorry. It was all of us,” Zoey corrected with a lopsided twitch of her mouth. “And your lack of boundaries.”

Hero chuckled lightly in spite of himself, but it quickly turned into coughing. As Zoey scrambled to get him some water, he managed to choke out, “Sorry…”

Zoey tilted her head handing him the water to drink. “For what?”

Hero shrugged, but he took a few sips. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ve already had it. I’ll be fine.” She sighed with a pointed tilt of her head. “You take this ‘hero’ stuff way too seriously, you know? It’s not gonna kill you to let someone take care of you every once and awhile.” She pushed his desk chair next to his bedside and took a seat. “Now you just sit back, relax, and take easy, okay? Mama’s here.”

“I thought I was ‘Mama’,” he teased—dry and breathy. He wouldn’t have had the energy to argue with Zoey on the best day but especially not when he was so rundown and miserably ill like this, so instead he chose to banter. Mama was the nickname his roommate and Zoey’s long-time best friend Kyle had given him back in their freshman year, after all, so it seemed appropriate.

A smile tugged at Hero’s chapped lips as he watched Zoey laugh. Something warm spread through his aching chest knowing he had made her smile.

“Hey, I was ‘Mama’ before you were,” she bantered back. “But don’t worry I won’t tell Kyle.” She twisted her mouth to the side, but her expression softened as she reached out to take his hand. Frowning, she shook her head. “Your hands are so clammy.”

“Sorry…” mumbled Hero as she pushed some sweaty hair out of his face—pressing her palm to his forehead.

“You’re burning up. You have a thermometer?”

Hero nodded—then weaky motioned to his bedside table where his thermometer was sitting amongst a bunch of tissues. “I just took it. It’s 102.2.”

Zoey’s brow furrowed. “When do we call a doctor?”

Hero shrugged. “Probably if it’s over 103…” His breathy voice trailed wearily. “But there’s things you can try to bring it down before then.”

“Like a cold sponge bath like in a movie?” asked Zoey, her mouth quirking to the side. Hero shook his head.

“You want it lukewarm—not cold. If it’s cold, the blood vessels will constrict, and the body will hold onto heat…” He sighed then coughed into his elbow. After he managed to catch his breath, he added, “But tepid water is good. You can take a wet rag and use it to sponge the back of the neck or the forehead—the arms and torso would help too.”

“You want me to go get one?”

Hero’s face flushed, finally realizing what he had said and that it had come out in a way he hadn’t intended. “No, uh… I meant ‘you’ in the impersonal sense. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Her mouth curved into a slight smile. “I’m happy to help.”

“I know,” he said, but he fidgeted, something almost bashful in his expression. “But I uh…I wouldn’t want you to have to see me…uh…”—his voice cracked and he mumbled—“shirtless.”

Zoey chuckled. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she teased. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’ve been to the beach how many times and you’re a lifeguard for goodness sakes. You can’t possibly be that self-conscious.”

“That’s different. That was the beach or the pool—this is…” He could feel his ears burning. “my room. We’re alone here, and—”

“And you’re sick. It’s all medical. Surely, I don’t need to explain that to you, future doctor.” She crossed her arms with a pointed look, before she clicked her tongue and bantered, “Yes, we all know you’re very attractive, Mr. Prince, but you kind of look like death warmed over right now. It’s nothing to get worked up over.”

Hero choked, then coughed repeatedly—phlegmy and guttural, definitely not attractive in the slightest. As he hacked and lurched forward, Zoey patted him on the back, firm but gentle before she rubbed her hand across his shoulders.

“Woah. Woah. Take it easy. I was just teasing you.” Her voice was soft and kind, and there was something so gentle in her eyes as she met his and apologized. “Sorry.”

Hero’s insides twisted. He could tell he had worried her, and he couldn’t stand it. He never wanted anyone to worry about him—especially not his friends.

“No. It’s okay,” he insisted when he finally caught his breath, but his words got jumbled and muddled in his foggy brain and scratchy throat. “I…I know you were... It’s just…that’s not what I meant. I was just…embarrassed. I mean you’ve already had to see me in my pajamas.” Hero stared down at his pajama shirt and pulled on the collar as his face burned and not just from the fever.

“Your grandpa pajamas?” Zoey teased dryly. His face flushed, but he nodded. Chuckling lightly, Zoey shook her head. “You do realize I’ve seen Kyle in his underwear more times than I’d care to admit, right? This is nothing. And besides, I’ve already seen them before.”

“You’ve”—Hero’s voice cracked—“seen my pajamas?”

“Well not in person, but Sunny drew me a picture of you in them.”

“Sunny drew you a picture of me in my pajamas?” Hero repeated incredulously in a disbelieving, hoarse voice.

Zoey shrugged but answered matter-of-factly. “He only draws you in your pajamas. He draws everybody in pajamas. You know, the last time I saw him he asked me about my pajamas so he could draw me in pajamas too.”

“Why—?” Hero’s voice hitched—cut off by an awkward laugh and wheezy coughing. “Why would he do that?”

“No idea. You tell me.” She paused, but Hero could only shrug his shoulders. Sunny was a talented artist, but Hero would be lying if he said he understood a lot of his abstract pieces or the reasoning behind them. Zoey’s guess as to why Sunny wanted to draw everyone in pajamas was as good as his, he supposed. “But I’m pretty sure he always draws you in these exact pajamas—long sleeves, button down shirt, stripes. I remember thinking ‘why does Sunny think Hero wears grandpa pajamas?’ but clearly it’s because you do.”

Hero chuckled lightly but tilted his head at her. “What’s wrong with my pajamas?”

“Nothing—if you’re over the age of 70,” bantered Zoey. “If you’re not, I don’t think anyone’s worn pajamas like these since the 1950s, but I guess you were always a Wally Cleaver type, huh?”

As his face burned, Hero sighed. “I don’t think I’m as charming as Wally Cleaver, and I’m definitely not as athletic as him. And he had all those girlfriends…”

“That’s a moot point,” Zoey interrupted, waving her hand at him. “Wally wanted all those girlfriends—you don’t. If you did, you absolutely could have them.”

“I’m sure that’s not—” Hero began as his blush deepened, but Zoey cut him off again.

“No, it is. Every girl in my sorority house would date you in a heartbeat,” she replied bluntly—pragmatic as if it was a well-known fact, but her mouth curved into a lopsided grin as she dryly teased. “You are Mr. Prince, after all.”

“Tamra has a boyfriend…” Hero protested—weak but somewhat playful.  

Zoey sighed, rolling her eyes. “Well okay…not Tamra then...”

“Or you,” he quietly added, but Zoey’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile.

“I don’t know, Mr. Prince. If you were actually interested in me, I think I’d have to seriously consider it—especially now that I’ve seen you in your grandpa pajamas.” She beamed at him with a bright, teasing grin before she let out a short, playful whistle.

Hero blushed before he buried his burning face in his hands. “Zoey…”

Before either of them could say anything more, however, they were interrupted by a distant, shrill whistling sound.

“That’s the kettle,” said Zoey. “I’ll be right back with some tea for you.”

“You really don’t have to—” Hero began to weakly protest, but she cut him off with a pointed stare.

“I don’t want to hear it, Henry.”

Hero paused. It still caught him off guard every time she used his real name. It wasn’t too often that she did—only when she wanted to tell him to stop being a ‘hero.’ It was her way of reminding him to take care of himself, reminding him that it was okay if he was just ‘Henry’ for a while. If Hero was being honest, it meant a lot to him to know someone cared enough to tell him that. Zoey had been telling him that for years now, but she only started calling him ‘Henry’ to do it after he had told her about Mari.

To this day he wasn’t sure why exactly he had told her in the first place besides the fact she had sort of figured it out on her own, but he was grateful that he had told her the truth, had finally been able to share that with someone. He would never forget the way she had cried for him—held him, told him that she wished he and Mari had gotten their forever. He had been so stunned, so moved by her empathy and kindness, that he had just panicked—trying to apologize for making her sad, for making her cry. After a lot of back and forth of him apologizing profusely and her gentle reassurances that it was okay, she had finally just cut him off in that spunky little way of hers. “No. None of that, Henry,” she had said with a pointed emphasis on his real name, trying her best not to smile as she said it for possibly the first time. Even so, she had insisted, “I’m serious. I’m going to keep calling you that until you stop that. Stop being a ‘Hero’—stop worrying about everybody else for just a second. It won’t kill you to be a little selfish for once…and it’ll honestly make the rest of us look better.”

Hero chuckled lightly to himself just thinking about it. She certainly kept her word—pulled his real name out for that reason whenever she felt he needed reminding of that. There was always a certain warmth and a flutter in his chest whenever he heard her say it.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he stifled a laugh, and the way her lips twitched in the corners made him realize she was trying not to laugh now too. Could it be that even after all this time, it still felt a little unnatural, a little awkward for her to call him that? After all, she generally called him ‘Hero’ or if she was feeling playful or cheeky ‘Mr. Prince.’

Hero’s chuckling was soon drowned out by coughing again, and Zoey patted his back and handed him tissues, water, and a cough drop until he finally calmed again.

“Still think you don’t need me?” she quipped, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted quietly.

Her smile widened before she gave him one final pat on the back then took off down the stairs. “I’ll be right back with the tea.”

Hero took a long, shaky breath, trying his best to stay awake as he waited for her to return. His mind was feeling hazy again—sluggish and foggy from fever and exhaustion, but a question nagged at him. How had Zoey known he was sick? Yes, she was very perceptive, and there had certainly been times he was almost convinced she had to be a mind reader but…he hadn’t been that ill when he talked to her last. He supposed Kyle could have said something, but as far as Hero knew, Kyle had just assumed he was napping not battling with a flu.

“Here’s your tea,” said Zoey, swiftly reappearing with a warm mug, a gift from his fraternity brothers that read ‘World’s Best Mama.’ Hero laughed every time he saw it, though this time it came out more like a breathy wheeze then a cough. “It’s lemon and echinacea since you’re sick. I put a little honey in it for you too.”

Hero smiled as she handed him the cup. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Zoey was one of his best friends. She probably knew more about him than anyone else—of course, that would extend to knowing how he took his tea. But it wouldn’t extend to knowing he was sick, would it?

“Thank you,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his cup of tea before he took a long, shaky breath. “Hey…Zoey?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I was sick?” Hero swallowed hard—then coughed again. Zoey tilted her head pointedly at him.

“It’s kind of obvious,” she quipped—deflecting. Hero sighed. He knew a lot about that himself.

“Yeah…but did someone tell you? Ask you to check up on me?”

Zoey sighed heavily, but she finally admitted. “Yes. Scotty mentioned it when he called me earlier. He said you were too sick to drive home this weekend so you had to cancel your trip.”

Hero blinked at her. It took a minute for the words she had said to register. Scotty was her nickname for Kel, some reference he had never quite gotten himself, but it seemed to make his brother happy to have a nickname. Hero’s head ached. His brother…? “Kel?” he asked in a weary confusion. “Kel called you?”

Zoey nodded. “I helped him with his math homework.”

Hero swallowed hard. Somehow he knew that wasn’t the entire truth. The thought made something twist in his chest. He bit his lip as he quietly asked, “Is he worried about me?”

“What do you think?” Zoey paused, but from the look she was giving him now, Hero knew the answer, if he hadn’t already. “You two are a lot alike you know—you both worry about each other but won’t really say.”

“I don’t want Kel to worry...” The words slipped out without him really thinking about them—honest, vulnerable, real. The feverish haze was loosening his tongue, it seemed. Hero’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like it for the same reasons he didn’t like drinking. It felt like losing control—only this time, he didn’t have the energy to care too much.  

“Then I don’t think not telling him anything is the answer,” Zoey replied. “Kel’s pretty smart, you know? He knows something’s wrong even when you won’t say—knew you were way sicker than you let on. He asked if I could stop by and check on you.”

Hero’s face flushed. He couldn’t really process what she was saying, “Kel did that?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Hero swallowed hard. He met her eyes—hoping the look in them would say louder than any words that she already knew why. Ever since their fight, he had felt Kel slipping away—walking on eggshells around him like he was scared he was fragile and would snap again. No matter what he did to try to reassure Kel that he was okay and that he would never lash out at him like that ever again, Hero couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing his brother. He tried his best to stay connected—talking to him all the time, planning trips home to visit him, even letting him stay with him in the city, and even though things had been getting better since they had learned the truth two years ago, Hero knew that they would never be the same. They could never be the same, not anymore. Not after…

“I really hurt him…” Hero’s voice cracked—breathy, dazed, but heart-wrenchingly guilty even all these years later.

He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud, until Zoey gently reassured him, “And you apologized and moved on. That’s all, in the past now. I don’t think Kel holds it against you at all.” She paused, sighed. “What if he’s sitting around, saying the same thing—worrying the same thing…?”

Hero’s chest ached, but he shook his head. “No, I…”

“Hero,” Zoey sighed, cutting him off. “If there’s distance between you and Kel, it’s only because the two of you won’t just talk to each other. If you did, maybe you’d realize you’re both scared of the exact same thing, and that it’s not worth being worried about. You had one fight. It doesn’t mean your relationship is just broken forever.”   

“It was a really big fight,” Hero gently protested, swallowing hard before he tried to catch his breath. “There are some things you just can’t come back from.”

“And I can promise you, this is not one of them.” She reached out and took his hand again, holding it tightly until he looked up at her and her reassuring green eyes. “You should hear the way Kel talks about you. It’s constant—all the time, no matter what we’re talking about. We’ll be working on polynomial functions and suddenly he’ll just start going on and on about how you always got all As on your report card or how you jumped into a lake to save Sunny and Basil or how you won some hot dog eating contest. He polishes all your trophies while you’re away at school. He’d be the first to tell you that you are the kindest, most amazing person he’s ever known, and he wants to be just like you. You’re his hero—no pun intended. And nothing you could possibly say could change that—could change how much he looks up to you.”

Hero’s face flushed red—he could feel the tips of his ears burning as he turned away from her staring down at his duvet. “He…he said all that?”

“He didn’t have to. Scotty wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s obvious, and honestly you only have to talk to him for five minutes to know how important you are to him. It honestly makes me wonder a little about what Jared and Lorraine say about me—probably nothing nice,” she chuckled teasingly with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you; most people are not talking about their siblings like they’re actual saints behind their backs.”

Hero chuckled lightly, but his expression softened—something warm spreading through his chest as he thought about Kel. Could that really be true?

He sighed, pushing the thought away—grateful for the opportunity Zoey had given him to change the subject to her own family. Hero knew that wasn’t her intention, but he was taking the opportunity anyway. No matter how easy Zoey was to talk to and how many private and difficult things he had told her about himself, he still didn’t like to be the center of conversation and would never enjoy talking about himself. Zoey didn’t enjoy that either, so he wouldn’t want to put her on the spot, but this was about her siblings, right?

Hero didn’t know Zoey’s younger brother Jared very well, but he didn’t really seem like the type to have many nice things to say about anyone, but her twin sister, Lorraine, was also a good friend of his. They often knitted or did arts and crafts together during which time Lorraine tended to gush about her sister in a way Hero found very sweet and endearing. He hoped Lorraine wouldn’t mind if he told her that.  

“Lorraine has nothing but nice things to say about you,” he admitted with a slight smile. “She’s always telling me how smart, driven, and beautiful you are. How you’re strong and honest but so kind, so much softer than you want people to know. She says you’d make a great girlfriend.” Hero blushed. That last part had just slipped out—he probably wouldn’t have said it, if he wasn’t so feverish, but Zoey just laughed.

“Lorraine said that to you?” She sighed, rolling her eyes somewhat affectionately but the look in them was genuinely guilty. “Sorry. I’ll talk to her.”

As he coughed, Hero shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s okay. She’s right…” His voice trailed, distant and breathy, but he couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth, “You are all of those things, and if you did ever want to date someone, that person would be very lucky…”

“Not nearly as lucky as the person who gets your heart, Mr. Prince.”

Even though Hero was sure she was only teasing him, his face flushed anyway—burning to the tips of his ears. He pursed his lips together, then stared down at his hands on the duvet. “It’s pretty broken…I’m not sure it’s much of a prize anymore,” he mumbled, trying his best to play along despite the sadness that crept into his words.

He bit his lip, but he felt her warm, gentle hand reach out to take his. He couldn’t look at her face, but he felt her squeeze his hand, heard her voice—quiet but sincere. “I don’t think that’s true.”

As he took a long, shallow breath, Hero shivered, but he wasn’t sure it was from the fever. Zoey let go of his hand immediately.

“You’re trembling. Let’s get you another blanket,” she said, turning towards Kyle’s bed. “You can have Kyle’s. He won’t mind.”

“It’s okay. I have a quilt…It’s under the bed.” Hero struggled to catch his breath as he leaned forward, trying to pull himself out of bed to look for it, but Zoey gently reached out her hand to stop him.

“I’ll get it,” she insisted; then she pulled the quilt out of one of the plastic bins under Hero’s bed—unfurling it then tucking it around him, all the way up to his chin. With a sigh, she ran her hand across the carefully stitched pattern of bright orange and yellow marigolds. “It’s beautiful.”

“My Tía Gloria made it for me after Mari died.” The words just slipped out—automatic, unfiltered. Hero flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that—probably wouldn’t have to anyone else, maybe not even to her if he was a better state.

“Oh Hero…” Zoey began quietly, but Hero cut her off with a fit of coughing that upset his blankets. Zoey pat his back again, but he could feel her tender hand running across his shoulders long after he had stopped coughing.

“Zoey…I…” he began, hoping the words would come to him if he just started talking, but thankfully she cut him off.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything—unless of course, you want to,” she paused, blinking at him with a soft expression in her eyes. “But I don’t need explanations, especially not now when you’re sick.”

Hero sighed in relief, and hoped the look in his eyes would convey the gratitude he didn’t quite have the strength to express at the moment. “Thank you...”

“Don’t mention it,” shrugged Zoey. “You look tired. You want me to go?”

“You can stay if you want—maybe watch a movie…?”  

Zoey smiled, but as she glanced over at the tv and shelves of tapes which, naturally almost all belonged to Kyle, she teased. “Let me guess: the choices are raunchy comedy or sports biopic?” 

Hero chuckled, lightly, breathily. Zoey certainly knew Kyle and his movie collection very well. He supposed he would expect that given how long the two of them had been friends. “We rented The Godfather from Blockbuster.”

“That’s not bad,” hummed Zoey. “But if we’re talking about Brando’s mob movies, On The Waterfront is better.”

A smile twitched in the corners of Hero’s mouth. “I have that one.”

“Really?” Zoey asked, her brow furrowing, and Hero nodded. “So you really do like old black-and-white movies after all, huh? Here I was thinking you were all talk.”

Hero let out a few chuckling heavy breaths, then swallowed hard. Finally, he took a sip of water trying to cool the burning of his hoarse throat. “I only have a few tapes. Most are in color, but I have some black-and-white.” He paused—shutting his eyes as he tried to clear his head—sifting through the fogginess to focus on his tape collection until he could picture it in the feverish haze of his mind. “Casablanca, Roman Holiday, It’s A Wonderful Life, 12 Angry Men, Christmas in Connecticut…”

“You do not have Christmas in Connecticut over there,” Zoey interrupted in disbelief.

Hero took a deep breath, but he nodded. “It’s on the bottom shelf.”

“I’ve never met another person who has even heard of that movie,” laughed Zoey, but Hero just shrugged, pulling the quilt up around his shoulders again.

“It’s one of my favorites. Always makes me laugh. I love the scene where she tries to flip the flapjacks and the pancake sticks to the ceiling.” Hero laughed then, par for the course, coughed.

“It’s one of my mom’s favorite movies too,” Zoey said as he handed him his water, giving him a firm but gentle pat on the back for good measure. “I used to wonder if that was because the main character falls in love with a navy guy.”

“Like your dad…?” asked Hero, worrying only after the fact that it was a prying question. He didn’t know much about Zoey’s father except that he was an admiral in the navy, and, according to Kyle, particularly stern, serious, and somewhat frightening. Zoey, however, only shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think my dad is a lot rougher around the edges than Jefferson Jones.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Jefferson’s pretty soft—quite the catch actually: sincere, generous, kind, domestic…and he can play piano.”

Hero’s brow furrowed, and he stumbled in confusion, “Is…that a…?”

“Perk?” Zoey finished for him. Then she chuckled dryly and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you just saying that because you know I can play?” asked Hero dryly, but his mouth twitched in the corners.

“You know I’ve never actually heard you play before,” she teased back. “You could be terrible. In which case, it wouldn’t be a perk at all—more like a deterrent.”

Hero chuckled lightly. “I probably am terrible. I’m really rusty, and out of practice.”

“Well, we’ll never know for sure will we.” Her mouth curved into a lopsided grin before her expression softened. “Though Scotty told me you used to be quite the pianist—had a lot of fun with it. What did you used to play when you were in practice?”

“Nothing too complicated. I…I think my favorite song to play was ‘Vienna.’”

“Billy Joel?” asked Zoey, and Hero hummed. “That has a great piano part.”

“Yeah it’s pretty fun. I’ve always been a fan.”

“I can see that…” teased Zoey glancing over at the stack of CDs on Hero’s bedside table. Cold Spring Harbor was on the top—probably because Hero had been listening to a particular song on it on repeat. His face flushed as he thought about why, but he swallowed hard and shrugged his shoulders, trying his best to push the thought away.

“I used to annoy Kel with it a little, I think,” he admitted. “I played it over and over. He once threw a pillow at me while I was practicing and yelled ‘Don’t you know any other songs?’” Hero chuckled breathily, and Zoey laughed.

“When was the last time you played it?”

“I dunno. It’s been years…had to have been before Mari died.” He paused—catching his breath, but he kept talking, almost like he couldn’t stop. “I haven’t really played anything since then. I played a few bars on her piano before her family moved away, but…” His voice hitched, and his chest ached—panging in that all too familiar space in his heart that Mari had left behind. “You know I…honestly I learned to play piano because she loved it. I enjoyed it sure—it was fun, but Mari…Mari was the one who had real passion for music and I guess…I just wanted to be part of that. After she died, I just…I didn’t want to play anymore—didn’t want to play without her.”

Hero stopped—his face flushing. He hadn’t meant to say all of that. Talking about Mari with Zoey was getting easier—clearly, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, just like he wasn’t sure if he would have even said all of that if he hadn’t been sick or feverish. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to know that he made the smile disappear from her face, made something sad pass over her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he began to apologize. “I keep talking about her…” Swallowing hard, he stared down intently at his quilt—running his hands over the thoughtfully embroidered orange and yellow marigolds—a symbol of hope, remembrance, a connection that endures even after death.

“It’s okay, Hero…” said Zoey, quiet, gentle as she reached out to pat his hand. “And it’s okay if you never want to play piano again either. You don’t have to. It’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

Hero took a long breath, watching as Zoey’s fingers slipped between his. He curled his hand catching hers—intertwining their fingers, holding on tightly to her. “I’d play for you if you wanted…”

“I know you would,” Zoey replied with a tilt of her head and a kind smile. “And as much as I would love to hear you play piano, I’d only want you to play because that’s what you wanted—not because you felt obligated. Someday if you see a piano and you just feel like playing, I hope you will and then you can call me and play for me, but don’t force yourself. It should be something that makes you happy, like it used to.”

Hero’s chest ached, but he managed the twitch of a bantering smile as he asked dryly, “How else will I pay you back for taking care of me when I was sick?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Our debts are paid,” she insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You took care of me first remember, and besides I’ve already gotten my reward which is getting to see you in your grandpa pajamas,” she teased winking playfully at him.

“Zoey!” Hero burst into a fit of laughter mixed with intense, nasty coughing.

“If you’re going to have a coughing fit every time you laugh, do you really think we should watch this movie?” she quipped, but Hero shrugged.

“It’s fine. I’m probably just going to fall asleep anyway.”

Chuckling, Zoey got up from her seat and put the tape into the VCR with a “Okay. Whatever you say” then she curled up on the edge of Kyle’s bed—pulling her knees to her chest as she leaned back into his mountain of throw pillows.

Hero chuckled a little himself before his weary eyes started drooping again. He had been right, of course. He started nodding off during the opening credits and was sound asleep before he even got anywhere close to his favorite flapjack scene. He wasn’t sure if he had dreamed it or imagined it in a half-asleep daze, but he could have sworn that once the movie had ended, he had felt gentle fingers tangling in his hair as it was pushed out of his forehead and Zoey’s voice whispering, “C.J.’s back now and will keep an eye on you, so I’m going to head out. You take care of yourself, Henry…”

*-*-*

Two Weeks Later…

“You made it!” exclaimed Kel excitedly as Hero walked through the front door with his suitcase. Kel threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Sorry it took so long,” Hero chuckled lightly as he scratched the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

“Are you feeling better at least?” asked Kel with a kind smile, and Hero nodded.

“Yeah…I was only sick for a couple of days, and my friends looked after me.” Hero paused, meeting Kel’s eyes with an expression that said more than his words, “Thanks for that, Kel.”

Kel flushed a little, but he laughed. So Hero had figured that out after all? He should’ve expected that from his brother. He was always so smart. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind too much that Kel had meddled, not that he’d really tell him if he had. Still Kel smiled and teased, “Hey, no problem. You’re lucky I didn’t drive up there myself.”  

“Your father and I almost drove up too,” said their mom before she pulled Hero into another hug herself. “It was horrible thinking of you so sick in the city all alone.”

Hero’s face softened, as he pulled away from their mother to look her in the eyes. “I was fine, Mom. Please don’t worry.”

“Hero! Hero! Wanna play zoo?” exclaimed Sally, twirling around him with her favorite plastic animal toys until he scooped her up into a hug.

“Of course, Sally, but uh…”

“Give him a minute,” Kel interjected with a good-natured laugh. “He hasn’t even taken his coat off yet.

“Oh let me take that,” said their dad—patting Hero heartily on the back as he slipped his arms out of his coat. “It’s good to have you home.”

“Good to be home, Dad,” Hero replied with a kind smile.

“Let me take your bag upstairs,” exclaimed Kel reaching for the suitcase Hero had brought with him, but his brother reached out a hand to stop him.

“Oh…you don’t have to do that. I can get it.”

Kel waved his hand at him. “Don’t be silly. It’s just upstairs. Come on. You can freshen up for dinner too.”

“I made all your favorites,” said Mom. “And I even ordered a hero sandwich for you from Gino’s.”

Hero scratched the back of his neck—the slightest tint of pink in his cheeks. “Thanks, Mom, but you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

Kel snickered and was still snickering as Hero followed him up the stairs. “You know Mom’s just going to make a big deal out of every time you visit even if you tell her not to, right?”

Hero sighed conceding, “Yeah…”

As Kel opened the door to their room, he set Hero’s suitcase down on his bed—still perfectly made from the last time he had visited, but as he turned back to his brother he paused, tilting his head curiously as he watched Hero staring wide-eyed at their old keyboard, pushed up against the wall next to the door.

“Oh uh…yeah…we found that when we were cleaning out the garage—” Kel shrugged, scratching the nape of his neck. “Thought we might as well set it up again.”

“Are you going to start playing again?” Hero asked, and Kel laughed.

“Nah. I don’t think I can even read music anymore, but maybe Sally will want to. She likes to come in here and bang on it sometimes—doesn’t sound much like music though.”

Hero chuckled, but before he could say anything, Kel said, “Or you could…if you wanted. I found a bunch of your old books and sheet music and stuff.” He motioned to a box on the ground near the keyboard, but he twisted his mouth to the side. He didn’t want to seem pushy. He knew Hero hadn’t played since Mari had died, and he probably wouldn’t want to ever again. Kel supposed, it was just one of those things his brother just couldn’t bring himself to do without Mari.

Kel sighed—blinking at Hero’s unreadable expression. Had it made him sad? He couldn’t tell. Maybe he should have given him a heads up about the keyboard or hidden it in the garage or something while he was visiting?

“Yeah. Thanks, Kel,” shrugged Hero, clearly putting this conversation to rest.

“Well uh…” Kel began to stumble before his mother’s voice called for him.

“Kel, can you come give me a hand for a minute?”

“Sure, Mom!” he yelled before turning back to Hero with a somewhat helpless shrug of his shoulders. “Hey, uh…I’ll be right back okay?”

Hero nodded, and Kel disappeared through the doorway. He shook his head. Why did everything have to be so awkward?

Kel sighed, and his chest ached. He knew why. But he swallowed hard—pushing the thought away, focusing instead on helping his mom set the table. As he was setting out some silverware, he stopped abruptly—his ears perking up at the sound of distant music, a familiar progression of notes he recognized.

“Do you hear that?” gasped Kel in disbelief, but it seemed his mom could only blink at him with wide, surprised eyes as Sally gushed and giggled.

“So pretty!”

Kel nearly dropped the silverware he was holding—fumbling around with the forks and spoons until he finally dropped them in a disorganized heap on the table and raced up the stairs—that all-too-familiar song growing louder and louder. As he burst through the door of his room, he could scarcely believe his eyes. Hero was sitting at the keyboard—his hands gliding across the keys playing music again.

“Hero?” Kel choked in a breathy disbelief which must have startled his brother because he stopped playing abruptly—clearly bumping the wrong keys in surprise creating a dissonant chord.

“Oh uh…sorry…” he mumbled, his face flushing somewhat sheepishly as he fidgeted—recoiling his hands away from the keyboard. “I just uh…I saw the keyboard and…wanted to play…”

Kel could only blink at him with wide, dark eyes. “You wanted to play piano?”

Hero’s blush deepened, but he nodded. “Yeah…uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know you don’t really like that song but the music was on the top of the stack and…”

His voice trailed, and Kel’s expression softened, brightening into a wide smile. He supposed Hero was right. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he had given his brother all kinds of grief for playing that particular song over and over, but in the years that had followed, he would have given anything to hear him play it one more time, would have given anything to hear him play again. And now that he hadn’t heard it in so long—now that their room, their home had been quiet and empty for so long…

“I…I can try to play something else…” Hero chuckled awkwardly, but Kel cut him off.  

“No, I’ve never been happier to hear anything in my whole life.”

Hero laughed lightly, and his mouth curved into a smile—a real one that reached his eyes.

Kel’s chest ached. He had missed that even more than the music. He rushed forward—throwing his arms around his brother and hugging him tightly, hoping that gesture would say more than his words ever could.

“Kel!” Hero gasped quietly, leaning backward in surprise, his shoulders stiffening a little before he relaxed. He wrapped his arms around his brother, running his hand across his back as Kel pressed his chin to his shoulder.

Kel shut his eyes tightly, but he whispered with the brightest smile on his face, “It’s so good to have you back.”

He could feel the chuckle reverberating in Hero’s chest before his brother patted him on the head and whispered, “It’s good to be back.”

[macabre-crab]

hiiiii i'm the author of healing shores (a hinamiki fic you reviewed) on AO3 and I just wanted to again thank you for your incredible feedback!! i wasn't able to dm you on tumblr directly but i just thought you should know that the newest chapter has the hiyoko-mikan confrontation >:) and i figured you'd thoroughly enjoy dissecting it frame by frame LOL

can't wait to see what you got cooking with hey bunny,'s newest chapter as well. thanks for all you do!!

HELLOOO honestly ive been meaning to catch back up on your fic (just like ive been Meaning to Continue Mine LMAOO) so this is very exciting!!

i probably wont read until i have my chapter posted since its Also a hiyoko/mikan confrontation chapter and in the off chance we have similar brains, i dont want to seem like im copying you any LOL

im halfway through writing the next chapter, ive just also been jumping back and forth through so many personal projects, added with my disabilities kicking my ass recently 😭😭 but im chipping through, bit by bit!

honestly hearing from you always inspires me to go and chip some more so, ill probably get some work done today!!

thank you so much btw and i hope youve been well 🥰🥰🥰

[smokeys-house]

So you've seen her around, and maybe you're wondering... What's the deal with Puukko? Who is this mysterious moomin flooding the tags? Or maybe you're just a curious sort. Either way, this post will serve as an updated introduction!

Art by @pink-nubes ❤️

The long story short

She's my moomin oc. I've been writing about her a long while now and if you're reading this you've probably seen some art of her floating around, too!

The longer version

Along the French Riviera, a young moomin girl is raised by two parents of meager status. Her fur is brown and bristly, and she doesn't say much. They call her Pinecone on account of her shape and fur, just until she's old enough to choose a name.

As she got older, she took to working at the docks to help support her mother, who has fallen ill. Sometime after, her father makes his leave, claiming that he'd be back after he struck it rich. He had a plan, but Puukko was never quite sure if he was telling the truth or just couldn't bear to see his wife like this and support a child. He was never seen again, and soon after, her mother passed as well. She took up the name Puukko after apprenticing with a blacksmith at port around this time. She's not sure what drove her to piracy, but she spent the next many years as a pirate during piracy's golden age.

During her adventures, she encounters a young fillyjonk woman named Marion. I won't spoil too much since it's still in the works, but after duelling Marion's father in Marseille for his daughter's freedom from an arranged marriage, she received her classic scar, and earned a name as a pirate figure of legend. Edit: you can now read The Cane King's Daughter & TCKD: A Story for Another Time on my blog and on my ao3!

Marion joined up with the pirate, now known as Captain Whetstone, and spent many years adventuring with her crew. They shared a deep bond, though they never admitted to one another their feelings. Eventually, their reputation would catch up with them, and the king would no longer turn a blind eye to pirates. He issued a proclamation declaring that any and all pirates who surrendered themselves before a certain date were to be given a royal pardon for any crimes committed during their time as pirates, else they be hunted and bounties set upon them. Captain Whetstone, being a particular thorn in the side of the crown, was extended one mercy beyond the pardon that she did not initially accept. Her crew was captured, and Marion along with them, She was to turn herself in or they would all be tried and likely executed. She struck a deal, albeit by force, claiming that any illegal acts committed during the course of "negotiations" would be pardoned alongside her crimes as a pirate.

They sentenced her to punishment by transportation, and had her swear an oath to never board a ship again. She was sent away, and her crew was given their freedom. She found herself in the west, wild as at was at the time, and attempted to make a new life for herself. This was short-lived, and eventually she found herself where she is today.

These days, she's back to calling herself Puukko, and lives in a moominhouse of her own high in the lonely mountains. She plies her trade as a blacksmith, telling stories of the old days and occasionally stopping by down in the valley and elsewhere. She's an old woman now, and rather delights in that fact. She's a little odd and eccentric, but who isn't in moominvalley?

Okay, but why is she brown? Moomin fur is white!

Quite clever, dear reader, and I'm glad you asked! You see, Puukko is a winter creature. A winter moomin, to be specific. What does this mean? Well, you remember this fellow here:

The Ancestor. To my knowledge, they appear in every adaptation of The Moomins (this one's from the 2019 Moominvalley), and I believe every time it's mentioned that they slept in stovepipes. Here's where I diverge from canon and into speculation.

I headcanon that moomins as a species, upon becoming too big to sleep in stovepipes, began sleeping in large huddles to disguise themselves as snow mounds in winter and keep warm. Instead of joining the moominpile as it were, some of them stayed awake during the winter and retained their fluffy brown Ancestor-like fur, but otherwise similarly developed more moomin features. Winter moomins have thick brown fur, are taller and wider than your average moomin, and are ill suited to summer and hot climates. Even though Puukko as a character pre-dates my watching of the 2019 series, I also really like too-tikki's description and characterization of winter creatures during the ancestor episode.

Why does her name mean "knife?"

The knife part is simple. Most folks in the valley are named after what they are, or are known for what they do. A "puukko" is a kind of Finnish general purpose knife, and I thought it well suited her character as well as fit the theme for her pirate name, Captain Whetstone. Which also has a reason, but you should read my stories to find that one out!

When I was first designing her and thinking up stories, I was watching through the 90s Moomin series again, and I had begun collecting screencaps of all the knives. Lots of folks in the valley have them in the 90s series, and they all look well made but handcrafted.

And so I figured my OC would be a blacksmith. She's the one responsible for making all the pretty little knives in Moominvalley! From there on I tried my best to suit her to canon, but at the time I had only seen the 90s series and the Riviera movie. She's grown and changed over time, and I've written lots of things about her!

That's all, folks!

Thanks for reading! If you're curious about her, or have any other questions, or just have something to say, please feel free to reach out! My ask box is always open, and anonymous asks are always on. I love talking about Puukko, and I love talking about moomins in general. It's one of my biggest passions! There's a tag directory in my pinned post (which is probably how you got here if you're not seeing this in the tag or in your dashboard feed) which should lead you to art of her (simply tagged "puukko"), stories of her (tagged "whetstone's whispers), and other information (tagged "capitan's cabin").

❤️❤️❤️

[uwingdispatch]

Steady Me

Steady Me

Notes: Brasso/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

**CW: **chronic pain, hospital scene, depression/mental health struggles, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

Maybe it’s the days and days of rain but when you got out of bed today, you felt a heaviness in your heart that, even into the afternoon, you couldn’t seem to shake. Still, you made yourself get dressed and went into town to run errands during a break in the weather, hoping that getting out of the house for a bit would help you shake this feeling. With Brasso off-planet for the past week helping an old friend get resettled back on Ferrix, you knew you’d just been spending too much time in your own head. Vetch had come by a few times, probably because Brasso had asked him, knowing your tendency to isolate when you weren’t well.  

Perhaps some of the fog was coming from guilt, as you’d originally planned to join Brasso on this trip—but you’d had a debilitating migraine on the day you were meant to travel and sent him without you. He’d made some effort to insist on staying home, but you both knew that Ferrix and your friends needed the extra hands. And now he was late getting back after a storm that delayed all flights off of Ferrix for a day and a half.

You’re barely holding it together when you get a ping on your comm, and you feel like the dam you’ve put up inside yourself is about to break.

“I just got home and you’re not here,” Brasso says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You sigh. His voice has always been a balm on your hardest days. “I’m on my way back from the market,” you tell him.

“You don’t sound okay. Let me come get you.”

“You just got home. You must be tired.”

“I am. But I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, but I can. And so I’m going to, if that’s all right.”

You give him the cross streets you’re at and sit on a conveniently located park bench. Winter has taken its toll on the local wildlife, but it’s been warmer lately. Birds are whistling in the trees and you think to yourself that it’s been a while since you heard those whistles. And then you wonder if you’ve just been so depressed that you’d stopped noticing the birds altogether.

Brasso arrives on his speeder bike—a recent purchase. You’d encouraged him to indulge himself a little after last quarter went extraordinarily well at his shop. And you remembered the old days, riding on the back of Brasso’s speeder back on Ferrix, before the war. The first time you’d gotten on the new bike with him, all of those wonderful memories stirred in you. And you’re glad to see him with it today. He gets off the bike and immediately pulls you into his arms, kisses your hair.

“Are you hurt, love?”

“No,” you say. “Just exhausted. Existentially.”

“I know you’ve been struggling. Let me get you home and make you some tea, yeah?”

Brasso secures your bags before the both of you climb onto the speeder, and as he drives you home, your arms wrapped around his middle, a sense of safety begins to return to your body.

When you get home, two plump tooka-cats greeting you at the door, Brasso insists on putting the shopping away. In recent months, even things that had been easy for you had become overwhelming. You sit on the sofa trying to take steady breaths, but you’re just so frustrated with yourself, with your inability to keep up with what should be “normal.”

Brasso puts the kettle on and comes to sit with you, immediately pulling you close, the scent of him warm and comforting as you rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say.

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe the depression is a bit worse than usual but you don’t have to tough this out alone. You know that.”

“I hate putting my shit on you.”

“You’ve always held me up when I needed holding. And I’m always going to hold you up if you let me.”

“I know.”

Brasso strokes your arm, a sweet, grounding touch. “You’ve been working so hard these last few weeks. Maybe it’s time for a break,” he says. “Can you turn off holonet orders? Take some time off?”

“I’m already taking this weekend off from the market,” you say. “I don’t know if I can afford to do that”

“I know you don’t like to talk about money, but you also don’t need to worry about it right now. We have what we need. We have more than what we need, love. You can afford to take a break.”

You let out a long breath. You know he’s right. And you love him for that. But it still hits sour in your gut. “The way I grew up, the way my family always talked about this kind of thing…I don’t feel good about putting the burden on you. I feel like I need to—”

Brasso interrupts you, tips your chin so you can see his eyes. “Do you remember what I said, just after we were married? When you were in the med center for a week and you were panicking about whether you’d be able to take on as much as you were used to?”

You remember. How he’d squeezed in next to you on that uncomfortable med center cot. And he’d held you until your panic dissipated, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that everything would be okay. And when you finally were able to put words to what you were feeling, how worried you were about your ability to contribute, he’d promised that no matter how much you were able to or even wanted to work he would support you.

“I just want you to be happy,” he’d said that day. “And I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to worry about credits. We’ll figure it out together.”

Today you lean into his touch as he wraps an arm around you. “I remember,” you say. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just…”

“I know, love,” he says. “But please know that I meant it then. And I mean if now.”

The kettle goes off. Brasso kisses your forehead before getting up to make tea. And you watch him, his towering figure, his thick arms, as he walks to your kitchen. You think about all the work he did on your home when you bought this house together to make it perfect for both of you. He and Vetch had knocked out a wall to create a more open space, and from where you’re sitting now you can see him sorting through the cupboard, no doubt looking for the tea he always makes on rough days—a blend similar to one you used to drink together on Ferrix, back before he left.

Returning to the sofa, he hands you your tea and says, “When I got here, I had very little other than the clothes on my back. You let me live in your house, made sure I ate well, helped me find work. We had no idea where this was going, but you took care of me.”

“Of course I did,” you say. “Brasso, you’re my person. I love you. What else would you have expected me to do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, love. You’re my person. And the way I love you, I will always find a way to take care of you. To take care of us. You just being here is enough.”

There are tears in your eyes when you pull him toward you to kiss him. And he leans into your touch as you caress his face, the short scruff of his beard familiar in your hands, your fingers soon threading through his thick, dark hair.

Before you met Brasso you constantly worried you couldn’t possibly be enough for anyone. Or even, perhaps that you were too much. With all of the baggage you brought with you to any relationship, the way your brain worked, the physical disabilities that kept you from doing even simple tasks sometimes—it was hard to imagine there was a person who would tolerate this much in a partner. And then Brasso came along. And while it took a while for you to see it, he loved you in a way no one ever had. In a way you’d always wanted to be loved. And as the sun sets and he kisses your tears away, your tea growing cold on the table, you remind yourself that he’s never shied away from loving you.

*

It was raining the day you moved into your new house. And it had grown dark since the last box had come inside from the moving truck. Brasso was in the garage with Vetch figuring out a plan for tomorrow, when he’d be back to help you unpack and set up in your larger space. With Brasso, the two of you could probably handle the move yourselves, but that’s not how your community worked. Maybe it was the Ferrixian in you, maybe it was just having survived the upheaval and struggle of a years-long war. But, with the people you held dearest, nobody had to do anything alone.

You were tired, but you’d gotten out the fresh linens you and Brasso had chosen just before the move. Curtains could wait until tomorrow, but for now you got to work on the bed, laying out the clean sheets and the soft duvet. You’d never thought you’d have a house like this—one with a big enough office that you could actually call it a studio. A garage large enough for Brasso to have space for his projects. He��d already laid out a few plans for the next few weeks—you both wanted to take out a wall and open up the space between the living room and kitchen. He especially wanted to build you floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for the paper volumes that had come back into fashion on Gatalenta—and which you’d collected rather quickly. The kitchen cupboards needed redoing and there were some plumbing issues in the guest refresher. But for now—this was yours. Yours and Brasso’s. And as overwhelmed as you were at the prospect of unpacking, of all the work that was to come, you were a happy kind of exhausted when Brasso came into the bedroom and wrapped his big arms around your waist.

“Slow down, darling,” he said.

“I just wanted to get things set up,” you said as he tenderly kissed your neck. “Before we sat down and didn’t want to get back up again.”

“I could have done that,” he said. “But it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s ours.”

You turned around and Brasso smiled. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek—you brushed it away with your thumb and he tipped your chin toward him, placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let me finish in here,” he said. “Vetch helped me get most of the big stuff settled in the living room before he left, and I ordered dumplings. Go rest.”

“He didn’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Apparently he has a date.”

“Good for him,” you said.

You had to admit the ache in your body as you headed out to your new living room, the furniture mostly where it was supposed to be, several boxes left to be unpacked tomorrow. Your two tooka-cats had snuggled up in their favorite chair, exhausted after spending most of the day exploring their new space. There was a bit of a draft, and you made a mental note to check that out tomorrow as you grabbed a knit blanket and laid down on the couch, just to rest your eyes. But you were half-asleep when you heard a knock at the door, Brasso stumbling around boxes as he rushed to retrieve the delivery.

The aroma of your favorite meal never failed to bring you back to the moment, to the beautiful man in front of you somehow holding plates and silverware along with the takeout. “You sure you don’t need some help?”

“I’ve got this.” Brasso said, setting everything on the living room table. “The usual place was closed but I’ve heard good things about this one. You can’t really mess up dumplings, can you?”

You thought back to the first date that never was, back on Ferrix, Brasso in that nice sweater, the little restaurant just outside of town, your absolute inability to see that he’d wanted more than friendship when he’d invited you out that night. And the dumplings.

“I thought this would be nice on our first night in the new house,” he said, sitting next to you. “I’d wanted to actually cook for you myself, but—”

“Are you serious, Brasso?” you said, almost laughing. “We moved today. You were going to cook, too?”

“I thought about it.” he said with a shrug.

And then he kissed you, and you could feel the smile on his lips as you leaned into the kiss, reaching for a moment to touch his face. This was a kiss you could live in forever, and you suspected he felt the same as he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you toward him.

There was a clatter as an empty dish fell off the table. In the corner of your eye: a tooka-cat racing out of the room before he could get in trouble. Brasso filled a glass with a fizzy beverage that the two of you often indulged in on special occasions. And as he kissed you once more he said, “I can’t wait for everything that lies ahead of us, love.”

“Everything?”

“Absolutely everything.”

*

The rain has started coming down again when, after tying up any loose ends to close your holonet shop for the weekend, you look up from your datapad. A part of you feels this weather heavy in your chest—a weight that can’t be lifted. But Brasso is in the kitchen chopping vegetables and you think about the ways in which he has provided for you. When he first came back after the war, he’d always wanted to do the cooking. Each meal was so lovingly prepared—he’d remembered, after all those years, exactly what you’d liked when you were both younger. And he was always eager to try the new foods you’d found and loved since. Whenever you told him he didn’t have to do this, he’d just insisted that until he had steady work he wanted to do this one thing for you.

But it was never one thing. He’d been on Gatalenta for just a week when he started fixing things around the house—things you’d known needed taking care of but that you hadn’t gotten around to.. You’d come home from the market one day and he was putting a base coat of paint on the walls of your refresher.

“I know you’re still thinking about what you’d like in here,” he’d said. “But I thought I could at least prime it today and you can let me know what you want me to do for the color.”

There were samples in the kitchen for you to look at, in the shades you’d mentioned the night before in bed, when you’d thought he was half asleep. But Brasso was always listening, always seemed to know what you wanted. What you needed.

Today, as you watch him from the sofa, you think of all those cold Ferrix nights you spent together. How, over a short text exchange at lunch time, he’d intuit that you were experiencing the kind of anxiety that sent you spiraling and somehow by dinner you’d agreed to have him over for a holofilm night. You’d hear his speederbike outside and immediately feel safer, knowing that for the rest of the night nothing bad could possibly happen. And when it was so late that both of you could barely keep your eyes open, he’d tell you he was too tired and it was too cold to ride home and ask if he could stay on your couch. Later he would confess that he’d worried about you, that he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t wake in the night panicking and alone.

That had always been enough for you. Just him being there. And you tell him this often, but you’re never sure if he quite believes you.

You put your datapad on the living room table and make your way to the kitchen where Brasso is rinsing his dishes, the aroma of one of your favorite comfort meals coming from the oven.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. He dries  his hands, places the towel on the counter before pulling you into his embrace.

“Better,” you say. “I think.” You pause. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you this week.”

“You’re allowed to have a life, Brasso.” You say. “It’s just…a fog I’m in. And I can’t quite reach past it.”

“I don’t really know what that’s like,” he says. “But unless there’s an emergency at the shop, I’m home all weekend. I’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I kind of do. Unless you want some space, of course. But I know you don’t like to call anyone else when you feel like this and I’d rather you didn’t have to be alone.”

“You know,” you say, your head resting on the firm muscle of Brasso’s chest, his heart beating in your ear, “It still baffles me how quickly I felt like you were the one person I could always call. And you’ve always been so generous with your time. Not just with me, but with everyone.”

Brasso kisses your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “I never saw any reason not to be,” he says. “And I never minded. Especially with you. I always knew that if I showed up on your doorstep, you wouldn’t turn me away. Even if you knew that I wasn’t really coming by just to check on you.”

There were nights when you’d hear the buzzer for your door in the evening, after dark, and you immediately knew it was Brasso. Nobody else visited that late unannounced—and there was no one else you’d tolerate this with. But it was Brasso, and so you always let him in. And sometimes he’d say hadn’t seen you at the cafe recently and thought he should come see if you needed anything and you’d invite him in and you’d end up just talking for hours over a late meal. And sometimes he’d show up and you could see in his eyes that something was wrong and you’d let him pretend he’d come by because he was worried about you and not because someone he cared about had gone missing and he didn’t want to be by himself.

“I’m always glad to see you,” you tell him. “Always have been.”

“I know.”

Brasso tips your chin toward him and presses a slow kiss to your lips. You feel like you’re melting at his touch, the layer of fog you’ve been trying to break through perhaps clearing a bit as you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over his angular jaw, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ear so you can better see the smile in his eyes.

“Sometimes I think about the day we moved into this house,” he says. “How it felt like this was always where we were supposed to be. Even though I would have liked for us to start our life together sooner. What we have is just so perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect, Brasso. I think I snapped at you last week for putting cheese in the wrong drawer in the fridge.”

“And the guest refresher sink is leaking again. I probably need to take the whole thing out and get new parts.. I know. It’s not that kind of perfect. But it’s perfect nonetheless.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I missed you this week,” you tell him. “I’m so glad you got to help out on Ferrix for a bit. But stars, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love,” he says. “Any time I leave I’m grateful that I get to come home to you.”

It’s easy to forget everything dark inside you as he drags his thumb slowly over your bottom lip. As his hand slips under your shirt to caress your back. And when he presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours, there is nothing in your world but him.

“Would it help if I ran you a hot bath?” he asks, bending to kiss your ear. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while. We can take some time to wash away all the difficult things.”

“That sounds nice,” you say.

A shiver runs through your body as Brasso presses a soft kiss to your lips, his gentle hand at your cheek. When he heads down the hall to the refresher, the weight of the galaxy around you is lighter.

“Are you coming, love?” he calls.

And you laugh to yourself as you follow him, remembering that he’d remodeled your refresher just for times like this, for hot baths on days you needed them most. For enjoying those hot baths together. You can already smell the healing salts and sweet soaps he’s chosen for you—all your favorites.

“There you are,” he says.

Gently, he undresses you, and you think that perhaps his touch alone could heal every ache in your body, every anxiety, every dark thought. And as often as he tells you he’s lucky to have you, you feel like you must be the lucky one, to have a man who always seems to find you even when you’ve retreated into yourself. So tonight, in his strong arms, in the comfort of this perfect bath, you believe him when he kisses your shoulder and tells you everything is going to be all right.

★★★★★★★★

It took me way longer to finish this than I’d expected, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @aerynwrites @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @multifandom-fic-rec-blog @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @sith-as-heck @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @ginger-swag-rapunzel @lyuir @little-wolf-white-peacock @iamsuchanasshat @vvpoisonous @saradika @islandfrogeery @boba-brasso-bee @groguspawbeans @fluffyprettykitty @mischiefqueer @wretchedmo @wyn-n-tonic

[romanscool]

hiya it’s me rue :3

i saw that you’d posted chapter 11 of “which could mean nothing” i was about to read it but i decided to read it on my way to work again (it became my favorite morning routine not quite a “routine” but u get it). Since I was so devastated about today’s qualifying.. it impacted my entire day like max p7 what ? But also i’m happy daniel p12 let’s go !!!

i’ve read ur prompt and i cannot wait for u to post it i’ll be seated. I’ll also read the one shots u’re posting too i can’t wait.

I was just listening to my playlist and “champagne problems” by taylor swift was on and I was like this could be a good prompt so I ofc was like I need to share this w Roman (being annoying again).

might make a tumblr account once i figure out how it works 😭

have a great day/night and wish us the best of luck for tmw’s race (and the boys ofc) 🫶🏼

Hi rue 🫶🫶

Im glad to be part of your morning not-so routine haha I hope it’ll start your day nicely for tomorrow <3 I’m devastated because of the qualifying as well!! My boy max did not need to start p7 tomorrow and even worse because Lando took pole (good for him but also max…) Danny p12 is all I’ve ever hoped for honestly the Red Bull family cars are getting worse day by day it pains me…

Can’t wait to write this farm!maxiel as well!! I’m really excited for this cause I’ve been meaning to write teen love stories for a moment (had even started my own original story a while back that I’m still working on 😵‍💫) and I’m glad it’s finally happening!! (Even though it’s only in a few months haha) ill be posting one shots and chapters of ‘which could mean nothing’ to keep everyone from waiting too much. Hope you’ll like it as much as my other works!! <3

Im gonna be honest, I don’t listen to Taylor swift a lot, but as I’ve mentioned before, I eat up each and every of her song because they’re so maxiel fic coded somehow? I’m not that familiar with ‘champagne problems’ yet (I think) so I’ll listen to it and tell me my thoughts (and how I’d turn it into a fic) tomorrow!! (You’re never annoying I swear I’m checking my comments on ao3 every thirty minutes after I’ve posted to see your thoughts!! Always love to hear from you rue 🫶)

Can’t wait for you to start your tumblr account, be sure I’ll follow it as soon as it’s made haha!!

Have a great day/night as well and best of luck to us for the race (I’m probably going to die) (I swear if Daniel doesn’t end up in the points I’m losing it) (also if Max isn’t on the podium)

Lots of love <333