#in normal terms: love a good post-nap stretch

[what-wait-why]

love a good post-nap crack sesh

[talkfantasytome]

Okay, so I'm not very good at coming up with prompts, but I am a sucker for accidental love confessions! Think it would be especially cute if they were doing something casual and Nesta absentmindedly blurts out the L word and is mortified.

Just posted the first part of this, from @littleloric's ask, with the "accidental" confession...now on to Nesta actually remembering what happened. 😂

Part 1

PS - don't hate me, but I'm basing Nesta's post-op experience on my own when I got my wisdom teeth out (in terms of pain, not the romance, sadly). So...sorry to all those who had bad experiences. 😬

Nesta woke up, snuggled beneath her covers, warm and relaxed. She couldn't remember getting into her bed, or much after her doctor sedated her, but a quick look at the clock told her she hadn't slept for too long. Her procedure was at nine, and it was barely past one in the afternoon.

After a big stretch, she pulled the covers off. And then quickly tugged them back over.

Why was it so cold? Why was it always freezing after a nap? It was what made Nesta hate napping.

Her eyes darted around the room and landed on a familiar, worn, Velaris HS Hockey sweatshirt. With a deep breath, Nesta shoved the covers off again and rushed over to the sweatshirt, throwing it on and slipping her feat into her L.L. Bean slippers.

It was a start.

After a few hops, she left her room and made her way toward the sound of the sink running in the kitchen.

She came upon a familiar, hulking figure hunched over the sink, washing some of the dishes she'd left in it the night before. Nesta paused to watch. To take in the defined muscles of his back as his arms moved.

After a moment she decided to make her presence known, clearing her throat softly.

The sink was shut off, and then Cassian was turning. He gave her a bright smile and walked toward her. "How are you feeling?"

"Good! No pain, yet."

"Really?" Cassian asked, his eyebrows raising in shock. "You're a bit overdue for your next dose, so you should be feeling something."

Nesta stopped to think for a second, moving her jaw around a bit, but nothing. It felt completely normal. "Should I take the medication? Emerie was saying something about 'chasing the pain'..."

"Hmmm..." He scratched his head for a moment. "Maybe just start with Advil? And if you feel any real pain, then you can take the prescription? It's pretty strong stuff. Better not to take it if you don't have to."

"Yeah, I'd rather not get loopy again, either," she sighed. "I can barely remember anything from after the procedure."

Cassian stilled as he got out the Advil for her, his entire body stiffening. "So...you don't remember...anything?" he asked, his voice lower than it had been a moment before.

A pit began to emerge in Nesta's stomach at the question. What had she done that Cassian thought she might remember? Was it something he wanted her to remember? Or something he hoped she'd forget?

"Not even anything you said?" he added, finally turning to face her, handing her the Advil and a cup of water.

She accepted both, her face scrunching as she tried to figure out what he might mean. She was just downing a large gulp of water with the pills when the memory flashed through her mind.

I love you.

She barely managed to keep the water from being spat out of her mouth.

What was she thinking?!

Well, she probably wasn't thinking much at all.

Nesta couldn't believe she'd done that. What a stupid, idiotic, embarrassing thing to do. That's not how she was supposed to tell Cassian for the first time. It was supposed to happen at sunset, or in some pretty park, or by a waterfall on a picnic. Preferably after he said it first.

Her cheeks heated, and suddenly Nesta wished she was in pain. That she'd downed the prescription to escape this horror scene.

"Cass, I-"

Cassian stopped her with his lips, kissing her deeply as his arms wound around her waist and tugged her close. Nesta's hands lifted instinctively to his chest, grabbing his shirt to have something to hold on to.

It was just a few seconds before he was pulling away and resting his forehead on hers.

"I love you," he breathed.

Nesta couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "Really?"

Cassian huffed out a laugh and gave her another quick kiss. "Of course I do. How couldn't I?"

"I love you, too," she beamed, her hands traveling up until her arms were around his neck and she was pulling herself as close as possible to him.

"So you've said." He grinned widely at her, but before Nesta could snap back at him, he captured her lips with his. "But I'm glad to know it wasn't just the drugs."

Nesta laughed with him at that. "No, not just the drugs. It's been a long time coming."

Cassian's smile widened into something so bright it had flowers blooming within Nesta.

With Cassian, why would she need a sunset anyway?

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @nestaisgod @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @lady-winter-sunrise @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @the-key-to-me-myself-and-i @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @cannellefawn @superspiritfestival @aks18

[curious-menace]

Arkham!Riddler SFW Alphabet

When I started this one I figured it would be easier since I can riddle as bi and ace and this is all non-sexual but my god was it difficult. It's hard to separate what i'd like from a partner like riddler from what this version of riddler would actually be like.  I've done my best but if you have anything you'd like to add, feel free to hmu!

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Edward can be affectionate in quite a superficial way. He’s not above using someone's affections for him to get what he wants out of them and he certainly isn't above feigning affection for the same reason. Although unless you were head over heels for him, his faux sincerity would be pretty obvious. 

However with a partner he actually likes i can imagine he’d be very affectionate with his actions more than his words. Riddler loves to talk but expressing actual love can be difficult for him, whether it’s romantic or platonic, saying how he feels about you is one of the few things that doesn't come easy. I can see him spending a lot of money on you as a gesture of affection; fancy food , clothes, first editions of your favorite books or vintage versions of whatever you collect. He’d quite happily pay for your education/college and any and all books you might want. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Being a “best friend”  would probably be at your insistence and not his. He’s likely left any childhood friends behind (assuming he had any to begin with) and I think as an adult, Edward would have trouble making friends. Like most things, Edward treats friendship as just another tool in the bag, he can count the people he actually gives a shit about on 1 hand. 

If you were lucky (or unlucky depending on your view) to be considered one of those friends, expect lots of phone calls about bailing him out, riddles turning up in weird places ( like in the pocket of a coat you haven't worn in a while) and him helping you out with your cerebral challenges( like your quarterly tax return, no eddie i can't just NOT do it will you put down the rubix cube and help me)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’ll never admit it, not even under pain of death, but Edward likes to be held. Now there's a few caveats to this; his rules and on his terms etc.  He likes to lie between your legs with his head on your chest, either facing you for a hug while he naps or away from you, using you like a pillow while he reads or tinkers with something.  He likes having his hair played with and his back gently stroked until he falls asleep.

He keeps up the facade of being totally touch adversed for good reason, the other rouges just do not respect personal space, even ones like killer croc and clayface. For the sake of his suits, he keeps this up even in private. But if you were someone special to him, you might convince him to toss his arm around your shoulder or waist. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

When he’s doing well mentally, he’s pretty good at taking care of himself. Or at least, looking like he takes good care of himself. He can cook and clean a little but he has the cash to pay other people to do the more menial or time consuming stuff for him. Not that he’s above it, he just prefers to spend his time on other things and is happy to compensate people to save him from doing it. These days he's more focused on other things to be bothered with domestic chores, his place is very messy. 

Settling down is an alien concept to him, not one he’s eager to explore. Expect him to turn his nose up at the prospect of marriage but a platonic long term partner, someone for company, someone to act as a sounding board for ideas or even just someone to (gently but firmly) kick his ass into looking after himself would be pretty ideal.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d probably be thinking long and hard about it beforehand. Like weeks if not months in advance. He’d want to give you the perfect breakup and, depending on what happened, try his best to part as friends. He doesn't deal well with sudden changes to his routine, particularly with no plans ahead. On the other hand he might just pussy out and ghost you. He’s fickle like that.

If it was your doing, well. Edward takes these sorts of things as a challenge. He might even assume you were joking the first time around. After he got the message, I sense he’d probably be quite clingy and upset. It’s taken a lot for him to get so far with you and he wouldn't let it go without a fight. He might try to change or at the very least , be better at hiding whatever it was that you want to break it off.

Failing that expect a lot of texts from blocked numbers almost but not quite begging or apologizing and asking for more chances.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like I said above, marriage isn't for him. I doubt he'd be compatible with a religious person given his childhood and outspoken atheism. He MIGHT if pressed, give you a question mark themed ring or token as a reminder that you were his. No papers, no ceremony, just something small. If you proposed expect him to be flustered and , if you can believe it, at a loss for words. He might go radio silent on you for a few days before giving you an answer but i honestly couldn't tell you what it might be. He does enjoy the thought of someone referring to him as “my husband” thought, so maybe persistent begging i'll get you somewhere. 

Some sort of Commitment appeals to him from a practical point; having someone to rely on, to fall back on and to care and be cared for by. It's not a normal relationship by any stretch of the imagination but it’ll be special all the same.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Edward isn't an imposing man. He might be tall but he’s all sinus and no mass. He has gentle hands but can be careless when he’s in a mood ( with objects, never with you). He's broken a lot of plates, computer monitors and mechanical pencils over the years. He lacks a lot of social grace to treat things with the necessary amount of sensitivity sometimes, but he has the sense to at least TRY and be emotionally gentle. Situations of abuse or self worth issues, things he has personal experience dealing with are things he can easily empathise with .

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Short story, yes but only coming from a trusted partner. Long story is that he has a hard time not flinching when someone hugs him by surprise. You should ask before you do it. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Edward is the kind of person to fall head over heels very quickly. He might say I love you before it's socially appropriate, it honestly might make you a little uncomfortable. But once that initial infatuation dies he's a lot more guarded with his feelings. He’d say i love you in a superficial way quickly but a genuine i love you with real emotion would take a lot of time and thought from him before he actually committed to it. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

If you look up jealousy in the dictionary, you'd see Edward's picture. Obviously he is a deeply insecure man, he’s terrified you’ll start to think of him the way he thinks of himself and seek out someone better. You need to nip any signs of jealousy in your relationship in the bud early on. Otherwise Edward will become controlling, manipulative and possessive to the point of alienating you from other people, simply for the sake of having you to himself. You need to set healthy boundaries while also doing your best to accommodate his need to be validated and his need for reassurance that you do in fact want to be with him. He gets snappy when he’s jealous, with you and other people. He has temper tantrums like a child if you don't agree with him. Like for example if he thinks someone was flirting with you and you tell him they were just being friendly. 

All that said, I genuinely don't think he does it for the sake of being a controlling partner. He is just so very afraid that someone he actually gives a shit about will leave him like everyone else in his life. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I should point out that he doesn't kiss often. But when he does,He’s all over the damn place. What he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. He is a very sloppy kisser when he gets into it but generally his kisses are very short and chaste. Like i said, he doesn't really know what he's doing so he's all over the place in terms of location. I think smooches on the cheek  because it's easy access, for him and you. He likes body worship, so if you're kissing him, anywhere will do as long as you're praising that part while you do it. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Edward does not like children but he’s good pretending for the sake of his image. Childrens naturally inquisitive nature coupled with his bright and colourful appearance makes for some entertaining moments but in the long run I can see him worrying too much: about screwing the kid up, about being perceived like his father, about the child not meeting his expectations etc. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's more of a night owl tbh. If you're living with him he might wander into the kitchen while you're getting breakfast , wondering why you're up so late. You'd have to tell him he’s accidentally pulled another all nighter. He might have coffee with you and talk about what he was working on, maybe ask if he could have some breakfast with you. But by the time it's cooked he’ll have passed out on the sofa.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Edward prefers to work and operate at night so expect him to be in a flurry of activity, building things, calling people and working at his computer. He likes to have company, even if you aren't doing much talking. It would be nice for him to just spend time with you while you both work on your respective projects. Sometimes he gets his shit together and lives during the day like most people ( read as, when he’s just been to prison and has an actual schedule for once) he would like to unwind with you by watching game shows or playing video games.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Edward has a bad habit of gloating about his accomplishments but in a way that is so obviously false it unintentionally tells more about him than he really wanted to. Like in Arkham knight, he gloats about “not having any friends at all” in reference to his riddler bots when Catwoman teases him. He meant that as a snipe at catwoman but the fact he’s so open about his lack of friends, to most people anway, is incredibly sad. 

He’s a well known villain, if you didn't know most of his backstory before dating him it would be hard to miss once you were together. He’s unlikely to tell you it himself, having to repeat it time and time again in therapy has him perpetually bored of the subject .

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He gets upset quite easily, he has very limited patience . He’s used to other people's cuts and jibes so he mostly lets that roll off his back with only a little annoyance. But for stupid people, and people outright insulting him, dismissing him or for acting like batman he is liable to start seeing red very quickly . In your relationship I would say he is easily irritated by a lot of things, generally a bit grumpy if things don't go his way but rarely as angry as we see him in the climax of Arkham knight. He doesn't yell or shout at you but he will seethe and let his anger fester for days at a time. He can be very mean when he’s angry. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would think for someone with a photographic memory, he would be better at remembering things about you. It's not to say he DOESN'T remember, only that he requires prompting to do so. Yes, he will remember everything about you but he puts it in the back of his head so he can focus on other things. Don't be surprised if he lets important dates slip by or does things at the last minute because something reminded him of it. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It's probably something innocuous that you wouldn't think of, or even realise he was there for. Maybe he remembers meeting you in a coffee shop months or years before you met and started dating. He remembers because you held the door for him or gave him a genuine smile. You were something colourful in his gray day, something hard to forget. I doubt he tried to build a relationship out of that one moment but when he met you again he would remember that and decide that it was fate or something.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Edward is protective in a strange way. He’s most powerful in situations where he controls everything , which isn't usually possible in real life as he's not a particularly strong man. He has more power in the digital world so that's where he feels most comfortable looking out for you. He might watch you on security cameras to make sure you get home safe, send you texts to check in or hide your profile from the police. You can be online together and in the public eye ( for him to brag about you to his online followers of course). To tie back in with his jealousy, he would be pretty protective initially but if you told him to back off, he’d be careful to do it more secretly. 

Edward needs to be protected in a lot of ways, mostly from himself. He’s not good at looking after himself, either physically, mentally or socially. His big mouth gets him into a lot of bother so he might need you to act as a social filter. He’s had several large breakdowns in the last few years and with arkham closed for good, he has no support besides you. He needs to be grounded and kept in the present lest he get wrapped up in his thoughts. 

 T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) 

Honestly? He doesn't really try. He's very lucky in that he can pull something out of his ass last minute and it would still have a similar effect to if he’d spent the whole month planning. Someday it's going to blow up in his face big time but he doesn't seem to care.

Same goes for everyday tasks. He's usually so focused on his own stuff that he doesn't realise other things need done. He's a master of doing things at the last second and still making it look like he put in effort.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a bad habit of underestimating people, even you. He might be inclined to patronise you when you try to do things for him but just showing him that you are a capable human being is usually enough to shut him up. He's very egocentric, narcissistic and conceited, but given everything he's been through, it's not really his fault he's like this. What is his doing is his refusal to work on his faults or try to grow as a person. Perhaps with the right encouragement you could help him but don't hold your breath. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Normally yes, Edward is narcissistic and very concerned with his looks but recently, with his mental health declining, he's forgotten to take care of himself. I imagine when/if he snaps out of this funk he’ll be mortified by how he’s let himself go. He’s more concerned with how he looks socially, how he might be perceived and his reputation than what he physically looks like. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Edward is and always has been convinced he was meant to be alone. He’s somewhat made his peace with that . there would always be a hole in his heart that he really thought nothing could ever fill. But meeting you? Well that changes things. Edward will never be a complete, well rounded person but having someone to kiss his wounds and pour their love into the cracks in his being is infinitely better than being alone. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I mentioned in some of my mini headcanons for him that he used to do gymnastics as a kid. It wasn't so much that he wanted to or even enjoyed it all that much, in his highschool you just had to pick a sport and it was one of the only things that wasnt team related and had the lowest chance of being hit in the head with a ball, bat or racket. He was pretty good at it, even if he didnt like it that much , and probably could have taken home some bronze or silver awards in his state if his parents had encouraged him. Nowadays he can barely do a pullup but he's still got most of the flexibility, even if repeated breaks at the hands of batman have left him a little sore while he does it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Edward doesn't like people appearing to be smarter than him. but his ego usually protects him from acknowledging that fact. he doesn't like bullies, despite being one himself . but his most hated trait in people is alcohol use/ dependency. If he knew you were an alcoholic he likely never would have started dating you but even the odd drink will make him turn his nose up. of course, hes a hypocrite , when hes feeling really sorry for himself he will definitely drink his sorrows away in whatever hole in the ground gotham rogues frequent. the self loathing is as strong as his hangover the next morning. he knows hes like his father, in more ways than one and it makes him sick. any mention of alcohol is likely to bring up these feelings

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Edward is a chronic insomniac but there is one thing that is guaranteed to send him right to the land of nod and that is having his hair played with and his back stroked. I don't know if it was one of the few kind touches he ever received as a child or if his parents did it when he was a baby but it's one of the few things that makes him feel truly safe and cared for. Riddler has spent the majority of his life alone, so finding a partner he trusts enough to allow them not only into his space but also his bed would be a difficult thing. If that's you, however, expect him to be badgering you every night to help him get to sleep.

that took a lot longer than i thought it would! arkham riddler is obviously my favorite so i was trying to write a lot for him but i hope i havent been rambling

if you want to talk more about any of the riddlers, hmu!

[fizziefizzco]

A to Z of LynnCove: E is for Eternity

A quick look at a bright future 

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I had a bit of a panic attack so that did not happen :] Sorry about that!! Here’s a long one to make up for it <3 

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

Even though it was his day off, Cove still woke up to his alarm in the morning. He wasn’t a natural morning person, and needed the extra push in order to wake up most mornings. The sun filtered in through the semi-opaque curtains of his bedroom, and the 25 year old man groaned softly as he moved to turn his alarm off and grab his glasses. Just as soon as he slipped them on his face, did the sliding barn door to the bedroom open to an eager little Chesapeake Bay Retriever that bounded over to him and licked at the free hand that laid off the side of the bed. 

“Well good morning to you too, Fleche.” Cove hummed and petted the not-quite puppy , but not quite an adult dog, her coat was soft yet a little wet, as Fleche was a very messy eater.  At the little girl’s insistence, Cove swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching in the light of the summer sun after he opened the curtains. Just as he stood up, the smell of breakfast cooking reached Cove’s nose. “Ah. So this is what you were sent here to do. Already had your breakfast, little girl?” Fleche pushed against Cove’s legs, not even looking up at him to answer his question. 

The house he lived in at age 25 was nothing short of beautiful. A small beach house right close to the water, it was like something out of a dream when he found it. Gorgeous wood floors, an overall hawaiian feeling to it (for being in southern california) and the best view ever…. Well, the beach was good too. 

[Rest Under the Cut]

His view, though, came in the form of a person’s back being turned to him as they stood in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Tall and angular, the years had been very kind to them, and their hair was long and in its natural color, a warm brown. There was a tattoo on their left calf of a crab surrounded by poppies, one that matched his own of a dolphin that resided on his lower back. They didn’t hear him coming, but Cove wasn’t one for pulling pranks, that thankfully, was his spouse’s forte. Cove walked up behind them, gently wrapping large arms around their waist and nuzzling his face in their hair. 

“Good Morning sleepyhead.” They spoke, not turning their head to look over at him. 

“ Mornin’ Lynn.” Cove returned, pressing a kiss to his spouse’s cheek. 

Lynn and Cove had changed a lot over the years in terms of likes and appearances. Lynn, who had once been asked to model thanks to their beautiful and femmine figure, was now a lot more androgynous after some soul searching, and a wonderful support network. Cove fit the more masculine look, and looked a lot more like his father, but that same look betrayed his soft and shy personality. 

“What are you making?” Cove asked after Lynn turned to look back at him and to get a kiss. Lynn smiled warmly as they turned back to the pan, and what was cooking inside it. 

“Pancakes. I made some separate ones for me, these are your pancakes.” Cove had only been half-listening after they mentioned that they made pancakes, the hungry thoughts of food filling his mind as he let go of his spouse. 

“I’ll set the table. What do you want to drink?” Cove asked, rubbing his eyes with a wide yawn. Lynn shrugged as they flipped one of the pancakes. 

“Orange juice sounds good.” Lynn said nonchalantly, to which Cove nodded and grabbed the bottle from their fridge, which was decorated with many tourist magnets as well as photos, ads, and sticky notes. 

Sooner, breakfast was finished cooking. Lynn served Cove’s plate first, and then their own at their small nook that served as their dining table. Fleche had run off to nap in a sunny spot on the couch, their living area being an open floor plan. The two of them weren’t perfect, as many people seemed to still believe, but they worked well and communicated with each other - which led to such a strong relationship. They had their own things that they did, and own friends, but they still did a lot together as a couple - one thing they loved doing, even now, was going for a surf on their days off. Cove wanted to ask Lynn if they were up to the idea. 

“Are you up for surfing today, husband?” Lynn asked, as though they’d read Cove’s mind. A mischievous smile danced on their lips, and Cove wasn’t sure if they could...or if they were just messing with him, but he felt like they knew. 

“Yes.”He squeaked out, a blush appearing on his features. 

The topic soon, even though it was their day off, developed into talking about work. At age 25, Cove was a chef and organizer for a local charity kitchen. It wasn’t a glamorous job, certainly, but it was one that he enjoyed doing. People loved him, and he was able to talk easier with the vulnerable people he taught to cook. Lynn’s hard work their entire life paid off, and they were a zookeeper, taking care of marine animals at the zoo’s aquarium. Their work and his helped pay for their gorgeous house, and dog.. And the nice set of savings for when they would try for children. 

The trip to the beach was as mundane as it always was, but for the two of them - every moment was magical as they ran around the water near their home. Fleche loved to play fetch with them when they went out on their surfboards, she could swim really far and would bring back the frisbee they threw each time. Fleche was also a very good girl as well, when they set her back on land and went at it surfing; the waters near their home were a prime spot for waves but were unknown except for by the locals. There was a kid that always came by to watch them, and the two of them often joked how much it was like they were already parents. 

After coming home from the beach and taking a shower, the couple split off and would do their own things on their day off. For Cove it consisted of testing a new muffin recipe that he wanted to surprise Lynn with, as well as getting in a few chapters of his new book, and watering the plants they were growing on their porch. For Lynn, their free time consisted of watching a new soccer match, a few crosswords during lulls in the game, working more on a painting they were doing, and unfortunately answering emails as the newest intern was a complete klutz but Lynn was very very patient. 

That night was time though for the two of them to get dressed up for a joint-family dinner. The Holdens and The Chos started it after Lynn went off for college and Cove moved out, though the individual families would still have separate dinners from time to time. It was much better with everyone though. Kyra still lived in Nevada, working ever hard on her writing - she had a boyfriend recently though, last time Cove and Lynn saw her. As for Mr. Holden, he’d gotten married the last summer, to a lovely woman named Aya who owned a flower shop, but Cove was still not sure about her. Mom and Ma were doing really well for themselves, taking it easy but still being the life of their country club. As for Lizzie… well, as much as Lynn’s older sister loved to joke about her lil sibling doing all the big milestones before her, there was one thing that she didn’t count on. Lizzie had a kid, and with her oldest friend no less. Shiloh and Lizzie had met again after that awkward encounter, and he’d apologized to her, with real feelings. They weren’t married yet or anything but things were going well for them, and they’d had a kid. Bertie, who was three. Lynn loved the little guy, and even though Cove and Shiloh were still awkward around each other as ever - the Holden-Cho family was good. 

“Do you have the thing you told Ma you’d bring?” Lynn waved their hand over to Cove who laughed as he took a container out of the fridge. 

“Of course. I made sure to tell Claude that she liked it so much when she came to visit. And yes, he promised to stop hitting on her.” He responded to his spouse’s question, watching as they slid earrings in while grabbing their keys. Lynn stopped short before doing anything else , feeling their husband’s eyes on their back the entire time. 

“Can I help you, Mr. Holden?” Lynn’s face split into a sly, seductive smirk. Cove bit his lip as he went to grab his coat from the counter barstool. 

“Why no, Mx.Holden, I was just admiring my ravishing spouse. You never cease to amaze me.” He mumbled as he closed the distance to them, Lynn using their hands to move his to their waist. 

“And you never cease to be the cheesiest man alive. You’ve got to stop hanging out with those boys.” Lynn’s words were drawn from their lips as Cove pressed a kiss to them. No makeup, but lip balm this night.  Cove pressed another kiss, and then another to his spouse’s lips, before pressing their foreheads together with a happy, contented sigh. 

“Normally I love being home with our families, but..” 

“But..?”

“But I’d rather much take you back to our bedroom and show you how much I appreciate you.” 

Lynn laughed at that and pulled away, heading to the shoe rack and front door. 

“Come on handsome. I’ll let you show me later tonight.” Lynn slid some cute flats on, their slender fingers brushing against the anklet around their … well, ankle. Before heading for the door, Lynn shot a look back at their blushing husband, whose hands were empty. 

“Don’t forget the food.”

[oimoi-op]

when were you diagnosed with t1d?

Ok, so storytime! Short answer is, as of today, barely over two months ago. 

(Very long post warning y’all, contains hospital mention and extensive, possibly upsetting descriptions of health conditions, specifically DKA)

My family doesn’t really have a history of T1D or even T2D, though my second-cousin-once-removed has had T1D for over a decade now. So, there was never any reason for me to try and get tests done for it. The only sign I really had up until last semester was two copies of a variant of an HLA gene that I knew about from a 23andMe report (which, according to the report, put me at a higher risk for celiac’s and nothing else), but of course at that time I had no idea that that could mean anything serious; after all, that sort of thing only happens to other people, right?

My college started in-person classes in the latter half of August. By October, I started feeling tired, having a lack of appetite, and needing water very, very badly. I actually went to my school’s clinic, and my erratic heartbeat prompted the doctor to recommend me for a Covid-19 test. My school’s protocols meant that I had to quarantine at my home (since I live within two hours of campus) until I got a negative test result. At home, I was drinking water all the time and sleeping constantly, and my parents had commented on how I’d been losing weight. I thought these were all good things. I had been slightly overweight at my high school graduation, and I’d always heard that drinking a lot of water is good for you, so I thought I was actually in excellent health even if I kind of felt like shit most of the time.

Well. Uh. I was wrong.

When finals came around in mid-November, I was just fucking tired. I’d get a decent eight hours of sleep and still have to take naps during the day. Hell, I was even late for work because I slept through one of my nap alarms. Studying was a pain in the ass. Attending classes was a pain in the ass. Staying awake for Zoom classes was a pain in the ass. I was waking up at 5 am to go to the bathroom, and then I would drink the rest of my water, refill it, drink half of it again, and then go back to sleep. Finally, November 20th rolled around, and I got to leave campus. It was my birthday (yeah I am a Scorpio and that weirds all of my friends out lol), and my parents took me to Fusion. And I just...couldn’t eat at all? I love hibachi, but I couldn’t even eat half of my food. The chef even got me a delicious banana split that I had to basically bully my younger sister into eating with me.

For the next week, I was sleeping about 18 hours a day. I didn’t think this was weird because I’d just had finals so yeah, it makes sense that I would be tired after exams and whatnot. I went shopping with my mom, sister, and sister’s bff. We were only out for a few hours, but I was fucking wiped out y’all, like in pain. Thanksgiving arrived, and again, I love food, I love eating, but I was not hungry in the slightest. I basically had to force myself to eat some of my favorite holiday foods just so I wouldn’t offend my mom, and then I didn’t eat for the day.

The very next morning, I was puking my guts out.

This started a pattern for the next few days: I would eat chicken noodle soup or some other food, sleep like the dead, and throw up every morning and every night. I started chugging large bottles of Gatorade constantly (which, if you know about diabetes and its health complications, did not help my situation in the slightest). I started breathing erratically after very little exertion. Like, I’m talking standing up and stretching brought about heavy, labored breathing. I weighed myself on my parents’ scale, and I was under 130 lbs. Now, for some people this might seem like a lot, but due to my height and build I could fucking see some of my ribs. That was when I started to realize that something was very, very wrong, but “losing weight is good” and I didn’t want my parents to laugh at me for voicing concerns (though, for all their faults, in hindsight, I doubt they would’ve). Yeah. Don’t do that, folks, that’s not a good mindset to have. 

On Sunday, my mom took me to town to get tested for Covid. This was despite me saying that I didn’t have symptoms (which I knew very well due to some of my friends catching it at school). Rapid test came back negative, so I did a culture test. Hell, while I was sitting in the damn chair, I was about to pass out. I asked for a nausea pill but my mouth was too dry for it to dissolve. I got a cup of water, downed it all, and felt like my throat was on fire. For the rest of the day I felt so, so awful. At some point I was walking toward my bed in my room and I fucking fell. I’m fucking lucky there was carpet. 

Regarding the rest of that night, things start to get blurry, for the lack of a better term. I legitimately cannot recall everything that happened that night or the following two days, so I will just try to explain it in the way I remember it best.

Around...midnight or one??? I was on fucking fire, so I went to my bathroom and decided to lie on the floor. The floor was hardwood and not at all cold, and it wasn’t fucking comfortable even in that state, but I was just in so much pain I didn’t even care. My mom must’ve heard because she found me there and asked me what I was doing. I said something about the floor. She asked me to go back to bed, but I must’ve scared her because she asked me if I wanted her to lie in the bed with me. I don’t remember what I said to her, but we were in the bed and she was trying to hug me, but she was too warm and so I told her to stop. I kept feeling this burning just below my chest, like there was acid in me (which I guess wasn’t too far off), so I would randomly sit up to try and alleviate the pain and not cry. I remember asking my mom to take me to the hospital in the morning.

My mom put me in the truck (I think around 5 am is what she told me). I remembered hearing my dad. I was lying down. Then I was awake, but I was on the floor. I thought this was wrong so I tried to tell my mom that but I guess I couldn’t talk. Then I was in a hospital bed, the ER I assume. My mom gave me some water with a sponge, and I was just so fucking thirsty. Then I was in the ICU hooked up to a bunch of machines. I didn’t know what was going on, but my mom kept giving me water with that sponge. That is all I remember from Monday.

I remember a little bit more from Tuesday. My mom said something about diabetes, but that didn’t make any sense to me because I wasn’t “fat” and I’d been losing weight, even! What had I done to get diabetes? I was thirsty and tired, so I slept a lot. At some point I really needed to use the restroom so I unhooked my IV???? (I mean I must’ve disconnected myself somehow but I can’t remember the details) which set off a shit ton of alarms and people were Very Concerned and kept asking me Why Did You Do That? But I just needed to go to the restroom, and they told me to use the Red Button to Call the Nurse (it was already there, and I now realize that we’d probably had a similar conversation about the Red Button to Call the Nurse possibly multiple times before this) in the future. A Chopped Teen Tournament from 2017 was playing on the TV nonstop. There were commercials for CGMs. I thought that God wasn’t being very funny about the whole thing.

As of now I remember even less of Wednesday, but I know that felt better. There was this diabetes specialist who kept talking about insulin and life at college moving forward, but I wasn’t really there, either because of being so out of it for health reasons, disassociating, or a combination of the two. My mom told me she had emailed a professor so he would give me an extension on an assignment that was due by then, and I remember crying because I thought that was just so nice of him. That night, this guy got me in a wheelchair and put me in another room, which I would later learn was the ACU. My night nurse was this nice woman named Tanya, who had a very thick Eastern European accent. She got me orange juice to take some potassium pills, but it felt like swallowing rocks. I didn’t really get a lot of sleep, so I was awake when the nurses changed shifts. I remember one of them expressing surprise that I was out of the ICU so early.

My mom took longer to come that day because nobody had told her I’d been moved. I’d had plain Cheerios and orange juice for breakfast, but I couldn’t really eat because my throat hurt so badly. I talked to a lot of doctors. I guess at this point or somewhere near it I accepted that I had diabetes, but it wasn’t really real until the same diabetes specialist was going over carbs. I thought I was never going to eat shit I liked ever again. I really wanted a fucking McChicken sandwich. I signed some papers for Medicaid because I had aged out of the CHIP while in the hospital. I finally texted my friends and explained to them what had happened. I was so fucking tired.

I got out the next day, so that was Thursday. Normally, I would’ve been in the hospital much longer (especially because my Medicaid hadn’t been approved, meaning no insurance had approved of my insulin yet), but Covid cases were on the rise and the hospital wanted me out of there. The diabetes specialist and one of my nurses snuck me two fast-acting and two basal insulin pens, and I was out. I ate half a McChicken, a small fry, and drank my first Diet Coke. It tasted like diesel mixed with piss. 

That’s the gist of it. The hospital staff was very nice and thoughtful the entire time, I think. I felt as though everyone involved cared about my health a lot. 

For those of you who aren’t T1D or just don’t know, what I experienced is called DKA, short for diabetic ketoacidosis. To simplify, I was very close to entering a diabetic coma. My sister later told me that our dad had said (I assume a doctor had told my mother, who, in turn, had told him) that I was “approximately 45 minutes” away from death. DKA happens when a diabetic (usually a T1D like me) has too much blood sugar in their body due to them lacking the insulin necessary to break the sugar down, so their body breaks down their fat reserves and muscle to get the energy it needs. This is why I lost around 50 pounds over the course of a few months (I was 118 lbs. when I entered the hospital, the lowest I’ve been since grade school). I was officially diagnosed with T1D on November 30th, just ten days after my 19th birthday, which is a little older than normal I believe. It’s...well, it’s not fun, but I feel very grateful for my large support system, and tomorrow I’m trying out a CGM for the first time and applying for both it and a pump, so things are really looking up 

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #27: Mothers and Daughters

Prompt: calculations (free write!) | Master Post | On AO3

Who wants some FEELINGS? :D As a timeline note, this takes place somewhere between 5.1 and 5.2.

--

While the Grand Dame’s Parlor was the Canopy’s premier location for food and drink, Eulmore’s upper levels still boasted numerous smaller cafés and restaurants to appease the rapacious appetites of the elite. With the return of night, however, and the radical shift in the Eulmorans’ attitudes about the exclusivity of their city, many of those businesses had begun welcoming former bonded servants, the residents of the Derelicts and Gatetown and Kholusia, and visitors from the Crystarium on the new airship circuit, altering their menus and décor to better suit the new clientele.

One of those locations was a cozy lounge overlooking Gatetown and the southern half of Kholusia, that served an excellent espresso con panna and almond biscotti. Both Alphinaud and Synnove had taken to ensconcing themselves in one of the booths along the large bay windows with their grimoires and carbuncles when they were in Eulmore, working in companionable silence. Despite their notoriety, the other patrons generally let them be—though the arcanist and the academician had both raised their eyebrows and exchanged looks when they discovered the lounge had renamed itself to The Carbuncle.

Today, however, Synnove was by herself and had shamelessly commandeered one of the circular booths, sitting cross-legged on the padded bench with a couple of grimoires spread out before her on the table. Amandina and Roksana were napping in a bundle of ears and tails in the space between her legs, the occasional squeaky snore escaping Roksana as she drooled on her sister’s ear. Synnove alternated gently rubbing each twin’s head with a finger as she worked on a programming issue.

She nearly jumped in surprise at someone clearing their throat, and she bolted upright, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, Synnove, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Dulia-Chai said, a hand over her heart and ears pinned flat. She had a folio and three thick ledgers cradled in one arm, and rather than her usual rich velvet robes, she wore a lovely, airy dress of light cotton dress, tied off with a deep violet sash, that back on the Source Synnove recognized as popular among the Ishgardian noblewomen for summer wear before the Calamity.

The arcanist shook her head to clear it of cobwebs, and warmly smiled at the woman. “Oh, no harm done, I always get lost in my head when I’m deeply involved in mathematicians,” she said, Dulia-Chai sighing in relief and her ears relaxing. Synnove tilted her head and grinned a little wider. “Would you like to join me?”

Dulia-Chai smiled in return. “I would like that very much, thank you. I have my own work to be doing today while Chai-Nuzz is at the old Stoneworks offices, and I find it easier to stay focused when I am with like-minded individuals.”

Synnove laughed and leaned over to shove aside her grimoires so they only covered half the table. “Far less likely to be bothered here than at the Parlor, too, I imagine,” she drawled.

The miqo’te rolled her eyes as she slid onto the bench, sitting down her things and beginning to spread out papers before her. “Heavens forfend that a woman enjoy some tea and biscuits in the sunshine while she balances the books!”

As Synnove laughed quietly, Amandina yawned, blinking awake and looking around curiously. The black pearl carbuncle spotted Dulia-Chai and peeped excitedly, wiggling out from under her sister and crawling over her mama’s knee to toddle across the bench to plop next to the miqo’te.

Dulia-Chai gasped in delight. “Well, hello, sweetheart,” she cooed to the carbuncle. “You’re Amandina, yes?”

Yeah! Amandina cheeped. And you’re Grammy Dulia!

Synnove felt a deep, fiery blush crawl up her face and she resolutely stared down at her equations. She had an inkling of how the babies came about their terms of address for everyone, and she was tempted to have A Talk with them about poking about emotional aether resonance responses.

Dulia-Chai, however, beamed with open joy. “Yes, I am,” she said, pleased, and carefully scooped the carbunclet into her hands and bringing her up to eye level. “Would you like to help me with these ledgers?”

Ooooooooo, Amandina said, her tails wagging in excitement, numbers! I like numbers!

“So do I!”

Quiet settled over the table shortly thereafter, one of the lounge staff delivering a fresh plate of biscotti for them plus a pot of tea for Dulia-Chai. Amandina was crouched on the miqo’te’s shoulder, avidly watching as the woman settled to the herculean task of reestablishing the Daedalus Stoneworks into a functional business. Synnove, meanwhile, eventually calmed, and quickly became engrossed in her theorems once more. The only sounds for some time were the scratching of quills and pencils on parchment, the sip of tea or coffee, the crunch of consumed biscotti, and the soft chime of a question followed by the low murmur of response.

After finishing the review of one set, Synnove rose back to proper awareness to a serious crick in her back, and she forced herself to sit upright, popping her joints and spine, and reaching her hands into the air to stretch. She rubbed her eyes, glancing over at Dulia-Chai, and raised her eyebrows.

Dulia-Chai was scowling ferociously at the parchment before her, tapping the end of her quill against the table. With her other hand, she was petting Amandina, curled up in her lap and quietly purring as she napped.

“Something wrong?” Synnove said quietly.

“Hmm?” Dulia-Chai looked up. “Oh! Well…no, I don’t think so.” She dropped her gaze back to the accounting, brow furrowing. “I believe I’ve run into the problem of staring too long at the same numbers, and now my results don’t look right. Would you mind reviewing these for me?”

“Not at all,” Synnove said, holding out her hand. Dulia-Chai passed the parchment over, and Synnove held it up, scanning the page quickly. After a moment she hummed, “Mmm, no, you’re fine.”

She glanced over to Dulia-Chai, who was staring at her in open astonishment. By sheer force of will, Synnove fought back the childhood-era urge to hunch her shoulders around her ears, but that didn’t stop her from squirming, and she only stopped when Roksana grumbled in her sleep.

“What an incredible ability!” Dulia-Chai gasped as she accepted the parchment back. “I like to think I’m quite good at mathematics, but to be able to do calculations at such a speed! How wonderful!”

Synnove grinned, a bit flustered under the praise, and shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve always been good at mathematics,” she said. “It was why I originally joined the Arcanists’ Guild back home; one of their departments focused much more on the mathematics and geometry portion of arcanima. But I ended up falling in love with the aetherophysics portion, and, well.” She gestured at the grimoires and carbuncles. “Here we are.”

Dulia-Chai looked at her slyly. “And was part of that love because it didn’t come so easily to you?”

“…Actually, yes.”

The miqo’te beamed. “How fortunate to be afforded such an opportunity. I can only hope one day that the children of Norvrandt will be able to make similar choices, to learn and study for learning and studying’s sake! Oh, your mother must be so proud.”

Despite her best effort, Synnove flinched. Roksana jolted awake, blinking blearily.

Dulia-Chai’s expression shifted to concern. “Synnove? I’m so sorry, my dear, what was it I said?”

Oh, the older woman was too perceptive by far, but as uncomfortable as it was, lying would be worse. Synnove took a breath and let it out again, slowly. “My mother,” she said quietly, “was, ah, actually quite displeased I wanted to study arcanima. My auntie, who was head of the family, always supported me, and she’s certainly proud and that’s what counts in the end, but I didn’t even tell Isolde before I went off to study, and when I returned home for winter break she was not pleased.”

The miqo’te’s jaw dropped open, disbelief on her usually kind face.

The words, normally firmly dammed away in a corner of her mind Synnove preferred to ignore, were pouring out before she could stop them. “Isolde was always a shite mother, honestly,” she said, “Auntie and Rereha’s ma had to shame her into getting me proper tutors, not just the etiquette ones, because Isolde’s plan was essentially to use me as a bargaining chip with other merchant families, not that she actually paid much attention to me. She didn’t even know what my favorite color was. We had a terrible row that break, near screamed the estate down around our ears, and then I stormed out and…I haven’t spoken to her since.”

Auntie Re says Isolde is a raging bi—

“Langauge, Roksana.”

The white pearl carbunclet grumbled. Not sorry…

Dulia-Chai seemed to regain some of her ability to talk, clearing her throat before saying faintly, “And how long ago was that?”

Synnove furrowed her brow. “Um…fifteen years ago.”

The look the miqo’te leveled on her was shrewd. “Would you say you’re happier with that state of affairs?” she said.

“…Yes. Yes, very much.”

“Good.” Dulia-Chai actually growled, her tail lashing on the bench next to her. “What a horrible fool of a woman. Fate hands her a kind, determined, intelligent daughter and she doesn’t even have the sense to be encouraging, to be proud? The loss is hers, to no longer have such a wonderful person in her life!”

Synnove flushed again, chest suddenly feeling tight, and picked up Roksana to cuddle her, ducking her head while the carbunclet papped her chin with a paw. “Thank you, Dulia,” she said. “That…that means quite a lot.”

“You’ve spoken highly of your aunt before, and I am more than glad to know you had a maternal figure to look to while growing up,” Dulia-Chai continued, “but it certainly was not fair to you to still have to deal with the frankly atrocious behavior of the woman who birthed you. I would certainly be proud of a daughter like you! Hell’s fire, I am proud of you!”

Synnove had absolutely no idea what to say to that, even as warmth flooded through her and her flush deepened. She squeaked in surprise when she felt arms wrap around her, but once she realized it was merely Dulia, she leaned into the embrace, burying her face in the older woman’s shoulder. Amandina crawled up between them to cuddle into her neck, her squeaky purrs joining Roksana’s.

“Thank you,” Synnove said, her voice muffled and watery, though she did her damnedest to not burst into overwhelmed tears in public. “I just…thank you.”

Dulia-Chai hummed soothingly and began to pet her hair. “You are, my dear, more than welcome.”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

You and Kozik were friends with benefits, at least that’s what you told yourself. He often visited and stayed the night, but he always left in the morning.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” You giggle, patting his hand as he headed towards the door. “Hemi?” You call, stopping him at the door. You run to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why can’t you stay here?”

“I can’t. I’m done with Rev, man. Come with me.”

“I can’t. My job is here, my house.”

“I’m not leaving SAMCRO, sorry.”

“Just come with me.” He barks, grabbing the door handle.

“I can’t!”

“You don’t want to! Afraid your daddy will hate you? Disown you?” He shouts, pointing at you. Tears filled your eyes, you plant your hands on his chest.

“Just go! And don’t come back!” You shout, pushing him out the door and slamming it.

“This is over!” He shouts from outside before climbing onto his bike and flying down the road. About an hour passed by when she heard a bike pull up. Ignoring it, you went back to the laundry, folding one of his shirts and tossing it on the bed. The door creaked open, you figured it was Kozik coming in to apologize.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood, Kozik. Just go.” You call out, but he doesn’t respond. You found it odd and turned to find a Hispanic short masculine man with a gun pointed at you. “Aw shit.” You groan, an elbow swings up, knocking you unconscious.

“Clay Morrow, long time no hear. Listen, I need a few things from you, and I’ll give back an old lady. The new guy’s old lady.” A thick Spanish accent growled through the phone, and Clay’s eyes met Kozik’s back for only a moment before he stood up and headed toward the blonde.

“What do you need?” He asks, tapping Kozik’s shoulder.

“Money, and the drug business you got from Álvarez.”

“Dude, you leave your old lady unattended up in Tacoma?” He hushes to the blonde. Kozik lazily spins on the bar stool, flirting with the barkeep. “Kozik!” He barks, the blonde jumping. “You leave your old lady unattended in Tacoma?” He’s confused for a moment before his eyes slowly bulge. Sliding down onto his feet, he grabs the phone.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You listen, I have your little puta here, and if you plan on seeing her alive, you bring me what I need. Álvarez and twenty-thousand dollars.” The ransom was believable, but he couldn’t place it. He’d heard the voice before.

“How do I know you didn’t already kill her?” He challenges, praying to hear your voice. He hadn’t left on good terms, and even if you were through, he loved you.

“Aye, puta!” He hears a scuffle and loud thump, a groan coming from someone.

“He-hello?” You ask. He stared into Clay’s eyes and he expelled the breath he’d been holding. “Hello?” Your voice snapped him from his trance.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave like that. I’m sorry!” He shouts at you, seeing your ghost standing in front of him.

“Hemi.” You whisper. He heard the tiredness, the exhaustion and pain in your voice. It hurt his heart that you weren’t there with him.

“I got you, cupcake.” He chuckles, wiping his face down. The stress was eating him alive.

“Well Hemi, this little love story is great, but me and cupcake here have some talking to do, so how about you drop the bag with Álvarez at the park on Seventh, at noon. I’ll assume once Álvarez is alone with the backpack, we’ll proceed with giving her back.” The phone hangs up. Kozik shouts.

“No! Shit!” He drops the phone on the bar before he starts pacing the length of the bar.

“Quit before there’s a hole in the floor or you wear out the floor there.” Tig groans, taking a drink from his beer. “It’s not like she’s your old lady.”

“Shut up, man.” He huffs, pacing still.

“It’s not! She called and said you had a big fight before you left. You said it was over.” He chats, still nursing his beer. Kozik’s eyes meet the black-haired man’s in a fit of rage and shock.

“She called you?”

“She called the office maybe two hours ago, just wanted to make sure you made it here okay.” Tig shrugs, turning to face Kozik as he stood to head out. Kozik grabbed his shoulder.

“You didn’t think I should hear that? That I didn’t need to talk to her?” He barks, hands fidgeting as he stands there on the verge of a breakdown.

“She said not to tell you. She didn’t want to talk to you, I offered to come get you.” He states, putting his hands up in defense.

“She didn’t?” He whispers, wiggling his nose to keep from crying. He’d been so mean for no reason, just upset you wouldn’t putt everything down and come with him. He knew there was a reason he pressed you harder than normal. If he had just made you pack a bag, you’d be here at TM, ignoring him and angrily doing her painting. Her commission was currently a pitbull painted in pink, blue, and green, and she’d laid the base colors. He’d remembered the base colors well as she’d smeared them across his body before they made love all night.

“Shit!” He shouts, kicking the wall of the building, his fist connecting with the tin siding. “Why man!” He shouts, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. “I should have made her come with me.” He mutters against his Dyna.

“Hey cowboy.” A voice calls, heels clicking against the pavement as they got closer to him.

“Go away.” He whispers, feeling her help him to his feet.

“Puta! Wake up! If your amante makes it today, you’ll go home alive. If not, muerte.” He runs a finger along your throat, imagining a blade in its place.

“He’s a man of his word, he’ll be there. He’s not my old man, you moron.” You spit in his face, wiggling at the restraints. His hand cracked across your face, knocking you out once more, dragging you to his car and getting to the park at 11:56.

“Puta! Up!”

Kozik stood there, dropped the backpack with Álvarez and started back to his bike when he saw a girl humped over on the ground 20 yards from him. He headed towards her, to find her pretty battered and beaten up. Scooping you up, he carries you the van before heading back to his post. Your face so beaten, you were unrecognizable to him.

“Kozik.” You whispered, and caught Tara offguard. She gave a shriek, grabbing a scalpel and pointing it at you.

“Geez doc, don’t scare the poor girl.” Tig chuckles, trying to get some of the blood-crusted hair away to see your swollen green eyes looking at him.

“Tiggy.” You smile, grabbing his hand with your weak one.

“I see ya baby. It’s okay, hunny. We’ll call Kozik, tell him we got ya.”

“He brought me here.” You whisper, patting his fingers.

“I know. He didn’t recognize you. You’re pretty tore up, darlin’. Don’t worry though. It’s alright now.” He hushes, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your forehead. You hear a phone click open and hear Tig hush into the speaker, “you grabbed her, man. We got her. Let’s go.”

Kozik’s feet thudded towards the van, his heart pounding harder with every step closer. He didn’t want to get in the van. He didn’t want to see you. Tig slides the door open for him to get in. His eyes drop to you for a moment, finding your swollen, bruised green eyes looking at him. Your bottom lip was busted up and bruised pretty badly. His eyes charted every little thing wrong. Every bruise, every cut, every red spot.

“Shit.” He whispers, his eyes filling with tears once more. His heart putted a little, almost stopping when you gave him a little smile.

“I’m okay, Hemi.” You hush. You pat his hand, assuring him you were okay.

“It’s my fault, fuck, I’m sorry.” He whispers, hands hovering over you, afraid to touch.

“I’m okay, Hem.” He shakes his head, moving away from you and hugging his arms to himself.

A week passed, you had healed for the most part. Kozik had been scarce lately, since the napping. You chalked it up to busy, but something about it bothered you. You were heading to TM currently to confront him. Upon arrival, you find only a woman behind the bar and Tig at the bar, drinking.

“You seen Kozik?” You call as you head to the curly-haired man with a smile.

“Nah, he’s in the shop. Why? You here to rile him up?” He asks with a laugh, pulling you into a warm hug.

“No, just here to see him. Haven’t seen him since he took me home and posted some prospect panty-wetter at my house twenty-five eight.” You groan, reveling in the contact of another human being.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. He’s been pretty fucked up. Cried a lot, fought me a lot. He was scared out of his mind when he heard about you.” He informs, his hand resting on your back.

“He hasn’t really cried a lot, a lot.” The barkeep contributes. “We’ve slept together almost every night this week.” Your eyes meet hers, a fire lit behind your green irises.

“Hey, uh. You might wanna get outta here.” Tig warns her as you reach for a bottle. “Woah woah, don’t do this. Your not thinking right. Hey, listen. I’m gonna go get Kozik. You two obviously need to talk.” He disappeared from the bar for what seemed like seconds, and when you heard Kozik’s voice, you snapped. You lunged over the bar, grabbing the girl and dragging her into the open carpeted area by the pool table, grabbing a pool cue and hitting the girl with it.

“Christ Tig! You left them alone?” Kozik shouts as he rushes towards you. You swing the pool cue like a bat, connecting with his arm with a crack.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You just hit some chick! You expect me to do what?” He shouts, reaching for the stick in your hand.

“To leave me alone! You couldn’t come visit, and I gave you time because I thought maybe you needed it. My mistake.” You snarl, stabbing the pool stick at him to keep him away from you as you exit into the sunshine. “Yeah, I just assaulted some crow eater at the TM, Wayne. Hit her pretty hard with a pool cue. Send an officer to come get me, if you don’t I’m gonna kill this little smarmy bitch.” You hiss into the phone, sitting the pool cue on the ground next to you and pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Listen, I needed some—“

“Different pussy? You stretch mine out too much?” You bark, raising your brows as you took another puff off your cigarette.

“No, no it’s not like that.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot that little rule, where you don’t want your bitch once another dick’s been in it. Is that right?” You ask, eyeing him dangerously. He was taken aback by the words that tumbled so effortlessly from your lips.

“Cupcake—“

“Don’t. Don’t call me that Herman. You lost that privilege. It’s Nell. You know it. 
Use it.” It stung. It was like being shot. You hissing his given name at him like venom. You’d never said it in your life.

“No-“ The police showed up as you stood and headed toward the car, arms above your head.

“Turn and place your hands on the hood of the car, feet shoulder-length apart.” The officer states, patting you down and cuffing you, stuffing you into the back of the car. Kozik took towards the car, but Jax and Opie held him back.

“No!” He shouts, strangled and broken. He fell to the concrete. He’d just gotten you back, and now you were gone again. “No! I’m sorry! Let me go, man! Let me go get her!” He cries, the three men moving away from him to give him a moment. “That’s my old lady.” He whispers, his fists hitting the concrete. “I can’t protect her. I can’t make her happy.”

“Kozik, we need to talk about what she said.” Tig hushes, hauling him to his feet.

“That she left?” He hushes, reaching for your hand only for it to be replaced with a cold bottle of rum.

“Kozik, she said you wouldn’t want her once another guy’s dick was in her. Koz, we all talked. None of us had sex with her. Kozik I think that she was—“ Tig stopped, he couldn’t say it. Kozik’s eyes lifted from the bottle in his hand to the other man.

“No man,” he whispers.

“Raped.” Opie finished. Kozik swallowed hard, unable to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming the bottle into the bar, shattering it before standing and stalking out. He rode to the station, finding Wayne’s car in the parking lot.

“I gotta see Nell.” He hushes to the sheriff, his eyes flicking to the door and back to the man at the counter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you back there. She won’t let anyone post bail. Sorry, kid.” He shrugs. Kozik rolls his eyes and heads to another desk, grabbing a keyboard and smashing it into the counter, the desk monitor.

“Listen!” Wayne shouts, grabbing him and cuffing him. He gets tossed into the cell next to yours.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan.

“I had to see you, Wayne wouldn’t let me.” He shrugs, sitting on the hard bench.

“So you did what?” You ask, sitting on your own bench.

“I smashed a keyboard and computer.” He chuckles, sliding against the adjoining wall.

“Typical.” You snort, sliding a little closer.

“Cupcake, when you said that I wouldn’t want you once another guy’s dick was—“

“Yeah, the little Mexican fucked me. So what?”

“It was assault, darlin’.”

“Kozik, you were banging some crow eating hooker, why does it have to be assault? Maybe I liked it?” You huff, covering your mouth to keep from crying.

“Cupcake, I’m sorry. Okay? I couldn’t feel worse. You didn’t like it. It‘s okay, and I’m sorry you ever thought that I left because of that, or that I would.” He hushes, reaching through the bars and grabbing your hand, squeezing it. “Don’t worry though. The guys are on it, gonna cut his dick off and superglue it to his forehead.” He laughs, and so do you. For a moment, he was concerned when you put your back against the bars, but you encouraged him to lean against you. Both your hands held the others through the bars and the two of you fell asleep.

“Wakey wakey lovebirds!” Tig laughs, watching the two of you groan as you come to life. The minute the two of you were released from your cells, Kozik’s arms snaked around you and gripped you tightly against his chest.

“Christ cupcake, it’s been a long damn week. Let’s just go home. Find a bed, and never leave it.” He growls against your skin, hefting you over one shoulder and patting a hand on you rear as he carried you out of the station like some kind of trophy. You were met by the MC and their women, cheering echoing and bikes roaring. Kozik drove you straight to his Charming apartment, carried you inside, and dropped you on the bed. In seconds he had three blankets, four pillows, a couple water bottles and a bag of chips. He dove into the mess covering both of you up and snuggling against you.

“I missed you so much, Hemi.” You hush, feeling tears of joy fill your eyes.

“I know, cupcake. I missed you too.” He whispers, trying to pull you closer to him.

[morelikesin]

You Know You're Cute, Right?

ANOTHER APEX FIC BECAUSE I CANNOT CONTROL MYSELF SKNDLWKDM,, this time I wrote differently than how I normally do - it consists of quick snippets of a day-in-the-life type thing, featuring Mirage-Octane-Bloodhound-Caustic as a polycule 💕 Huge inspo from this song (as well as included in the fic)✨

Take this as a late Christmas-early New Years gift ✨ Super fluffy and casual type work, with a heavy dash of romanticism because I'll be damned if I'm not a romantic. Fic under the cut 💕💕

"You call your cat sweetheart? 'Zander-"

"Not a word."

Elliott suppressed a snort. That cheeky little smile he had when he found an opening for playful jabs was always so irritating - the kind of irritating that made the scientist want to kiss it right off of him.

"I think it's cute," Octavio hummed, leaning back into the sofa with his arms crossed behind his head. "That means you're cute. Que lindo."

The way Alexander scoffed an "Octavio" would've been more intimidating had it not been for the big, sleepy cat he cradled in his arms. She stretched her big fluffy paws, made a squeak as she yawned, and buried her head into the man's chest.

Blóð smiled.

"Vhatever helps you sleep at night, elskan."

It was incredibly late. The last time they had checked the clock wasn't that long ago, and apparently it was supposed to be sometime around 4 in the morning. It didn't feel that way at all.

They knew it'd kick their ass in the morning - getting so little sleep.

Well, Octavio might be fine. But Elliott had made it a habit to wake up at 8, Blóð still hadn't made much progress on getting more sleep to begin with, Alexander had his internal clock waking him at 7, and they all had somewhere to be at 9. This entire night was probably a huge mistake. They normally try to get to sleep by 2, but admittedly, they may or may not have a bad practice of keeping each other awake for company's sake.

And now that an entirely new subject was brought up after Alexander had rather adoringly picked up Bear, his senior cat, and called her "sweetheart," the prospect of playfully pestering him about his soft spot was all too enticing to go to sleep just yet.

"You've never even called us sweetheart," Octavio began. "You save it for her?"

There was a brief pause. Alexander had kept petting her back paw with his thumb, as his eyes remained averted until he sighed. "It...is something I've grown accustomed to for her, yes."

Elliott made a pleased hum. "Well isn't that just adorable," he teased before leaning over and petting Bear across her back - fur unbelievably soft.

It started as a joke a while ago - the way they noticed how Bear could make anyone sleepy just by looking at her - her cozy looking fur, her sweet little face, her ability to get comfortable and sleep virtually anywhere - but over time the joke had increased its humour when the idea became seemingly true. Alexander occasionally would mention how he'd sometimes stop working at his desk late at night because Bear was sleeping in his lap, and turn in a few hours early compared to his usual 2 in the morning bed time. This was deemed an exaggeration until the three others experienced it for themselves.

This happened to be one of those magical sleepy-Bear moments, as made evident by how Blóð made a quiet yawn shortly after leaning over to give Bear a loving scritch under her chin.

Octavio staved off a matching yawn. He rubbed at his eyes, began to stand, and nodded to Alexander's bed. "We should probably try and get some sleep."

-

The sun coming in through the blinds was a rude awakening. Elliott instinctually raised an arm to cover his eyes - making a soft groan in annoyance at the bright rays somehow coming through at a perfect angle to hit him in the face. Turning, he lowered his arm and began to sit up slowly as to not wake up the sleeping Octavio who had his arm wrapped around his waist.

Elliott sighed, and leaned down to give him a kiss on the temple. He lingered for a moment before sitting up again and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He noticed a weight on his legs, and looked to see a peacefully sleeping Bear curled up in a ball. As he went to pet her head, his eyes glanced up to see Blóð sitting in Alexander's desk chair - hands busy sewing a thick-fur item. From the time spent with the hunter, Elliott had picked up on the types of hides they'd hunt and use - this one appearing to be rabbit fur. What they were making, though, wasn't clear yet.

Elliott's voice came deeper, and a bit more throaty in post-sleep fashion, "Morning."

Blóð briefly looked up, gave a gentle smile, and proceeded to look back down to continue their work. "Góðan morgin. How did you sl'leep?"

"Pretty good, considering." He took in a deep breath, and stretched his arms out in front of him. He rested his hands in his lap as he went to speak again, "When did you wake up?"

"Before Alexander, but not by long."

Elliott frowned slightly. Blóð took notice when they looked back up to gauge his reaction. They made an effort to ease his concerns.

"I'm sure Octavio will get me to take a nap vith him later today," they assured, "don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Elliott made a small hum indicating reluctant agreement. "...Alright. Just promise me to keep doin' what you're doin' - trying t'get more sleep, I mean."

"I promise, ástin."

If Elliott was a sucker for anything, it'd be terms of endearment - especially when they're used so casually. Having all four of them be big on using said terms made for an eternally happy Witt.

"Beloved, right?"

Blóð hummed, "Yes. Closest tr'ranslation I can equate to it." They briefly stopped their handiwork in the wake of a smile they couldn't seem to get rid of. "I'm touched you remembered."

Elliott smirked and made a quiet laugh, turning his head to find the time on the side table clock - 8:21 AM - before looking back over. "I try my best. Making it a goal to learn as much as I can from you and Octavio."

"We find it very sweet," Blóð assured, letting it be known that Octavio and they had seemingly discussed the language efforts before. "Alexander said as much, that you and he were doing so."

"Think I can speak for him when I say that we love learning it. Speaking of him...?"

"He's downstairs."

Elliott made a quiet "Ah." As much as it pained him to do so, he gently lifted Bear and set her on a free spot of the blanket so he could get up - her being left generally unfazed, besides her slightly annoyed tail wag in being moved from her spot.

With Octavio being so small, Elliott could easily leave the bed without disturbing him too much, albeit moving his arm so it wasn't draped across his body anymore. He stretched, walked over to Blóð, and gestured for a kiss. They hummed, seemingly still in their work, but Elliott knew they were keen - the hunter picking up the hint and looking up so their lips could gently meet.

"Que lindo, mis amores."

The two of them made a small hum in surprise before pulling away from one another with a blush. Blóð was smiling to themself shyly, while Elliott made a small chortle and flirted with the newly-awakened Octavio, wearing his darling little smirk.

"Welcome to join us."

Octavio laughed - the sound half-purr, half-grain. "I'd love to. Watching is only so much fun."

He started to rise, stretching his arms upwards and making a groan before reaching over the bed to grab his prosthetics and put them on. Standing, shaking his legs to help himself wake up, he made a small yawn before walking around the bed and giving a kiss to each partner - looking satisfied with himself.

"Big guy downstairs?"

Blóð nodded.

Elliott and Octavio made a mutual decision to go see him - the latter turning around before they headed out the bedroom door to question Blóð. "You comin' down?"

They shook their head, hands busy sewing the fur item again. "I will soon. I von't be long in finishing this."

Octavio nodded, and proceeded to take Elliott's hand as they went downstairs.

-

Dr. Somers and Alexander seemed to be having a chat when the two made it to the kitchen, their hands busy with mugs of black coffee all the while. Elliott could never understand how people drank their coffee so bitter, much less Octavio.

Dr. Somers was the first to notice the two, as she was facing the stairs leaning against the counter. Giving a small wave and giving a nod to Alexander, she drank from her mug and gave them a minute to exchange expected affections - something she learned the polycule are incredibly prone to do, despite several joking complaints about PDA from the others.

Octavio quipped with a laugh between his words as Elliott and Alexander exchanged a coffee-flavored kiss, "Not even creamer, 'Zander?"

The man bore an amused hum. "Black coffee actually tastes like coffee. You may as well drink candy if you add so much sugar to it."

"You sound old."

"No avoiding that, I'm afraid." He gestured for a kiss, to which Octavio happily gave, before drinking from his mug again. "How did you sleep?"

"Great!"

Elliott gave a "Ditto" in response, though he followed it up with a fitting yawn and a "Wish I slept some more, though."

The statement was seconded by the way Alexander made a soft hum in agreement, and thirded by Octavio and his rightly timed yawn.

Dr. Somers waited a few quiet moments before stepping forward and piping into the conversation. "It'll just be a few stores we stop by, darlin's. Doubt we'll be out that long."

"That's still gonna' be so long," Octavio complained, his voice coming as a whine.

It was common knowledge that Octavio wasn't exactly big on shopping. Elliott, however, could spend all day doing it. If they had to disagree on anything, it'd be how long they were out for things - Alexander and Blóð keeping things relatively frustration-free during a shopping trip, though Blóð would always get antsy to go home if they stayed out longer than a few hours out in a city.

"It'll be fine, babe," Elliott assured the man while rubbing his back. "It's kinda'- kinda' just mainly food shopping, isn't it? You like doing that."

"Aren't we going to the pet store after, though?"

Elliott rose a brow, "'Tavio, are you complaining about that?"

Octavio snorted and began walking to the fridge - grabbing a Bang from inside and popping the can open. "No, para nada - prefer that to everything else, even food."

Mary laughed at that, shaking her head before taking a gulp of coffee and making her way to the living room. Before she left, though, she spoke with her back still facing them, "Oh, remind me t'grab a level while we're out -  puttin' up a shelf an' think I lost the one I had."

"Lucky for you, I'm the best at reminding people of things," Elliott half-joked. Mary laughed again and took her leave with a "Thanks."

Being left alone in the kitchen, the three stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. Alexander prompted a question shortly thereafter;

"Is Blóð still upstairs?"

"Yeah," Octavio began, "Think they were working on something - dijo no tardará mucho. I can go see them if-"

The stairs creaked a bit as someone walked down the stairs, causing Octavio to cut himself off as he turned to see who it was. In seeing so, he sighed damn near dreamily and softened his gaze a bit - Elliott and Alexander softening all the same.

Pulling their past-the-waist long black hair behind their jewelry-adorned ear, they rounded the last stair and looked up to see their partners - smiling warmly and lowering their hands to fold their arms. The coyote jaw necklace (that Octavio had gifted them this past holiday, knowing they loved real animal items), that rest against their lower chest rose slightly with every breath, as quaint a detail it was to notice. Not a day goes by do any of them not love seeing their pretty face.

And Elliott made sure to tell them that.

"Not a day goes by do we not love seeing your pretty face."

Blóð bore a chuckle and rolled their eyes, though it didn't mask the rosy blush the comment gave them. "I should say the same for you, ástin."

They unfolded their arms and looked back to the three. They couldn't suppress the amused hum they made in seeing that the three were still checking them out - becoming more flushed and brushing their hair behind their ear again, looking away with a shy smile.

They always looked at each other with such warmth. They got playful tease about it from the others, especially Alexander given he was quite brooding to most things, but the gazes never subsided. They'd like to say they were subtle about it - but everyone else would vote against it. And it'd be true.

They were obvious about it. So sticky-sweet obvious - embraces and hand holding and gazes and kisses and all. They didn't mind.

-

By 10 till 9, mostly everyone was ready - save for Loba, Renee, and Elliott, who always took a while to clean up to their own high standards. Elliott called from upstairs whether he should wear his orange body mist or his cologne, and with the majority vote leaning towards cologne today - well, he must please the people.

With Renee in tow, Elliott had finally come from upstairs. He looked handsome as ever, however, wearing a black turtleneck and an orange, knee length open-front sweater. His hair looked meticulously tended to, tossed to the opposite side of his pierced right ear and framing his face well.

The cologne served him wonders, too, with Blóð and Alexander taking a clear liking to it.

Octavio walked down the stairs with a pep in his step - smoothing back his hair as best he could just so it could partly fall into his face once again. Swinging around the corner, he spotted his partners and proceeded to greet Blóð and Elliott with a firm smack on their behinds. They were startled, sure, but Elliott only looked down to give Octavio a laugh and a smack of his own, while Blóð merely scoffed in jest.

Octavio bit his lip. "Don't you all look good? Eres tan sexy," he gave a wink while unabashedly checking them out. Blóð was always so pretty, even when showing their strength in the games or when they hunted or chopped wood (Octavio could go on for days about that), Elliott was always so charming and confident (even if his suave attempts happened to fail, they were all the more charming), and the rolled-sleeve button up that was unbuttoned just enough to show collarbone and brief chest on Alexander was something Octavio (and the other two, admittedly) would store in the memory bank for personal satisfaction.

"¿Qué hubo?"

"Just talkin' about whatever." Elliott adjusted the cuffs of his orange jacket sleeves, rolling them up his forearm a bit. He took notice of Octavio's outfit. "You gonna' be alright out there? You know I love you in your crop tops, but-"

Octavio made a "Pshhh" and scrunched his nose up a bit in response to that, cutting him off. "I'll be fine, bebé. Can't be that cold outside, can it?"

Alexander seemed to check his phone for confirmation on that. "Sixty degrees."

Elliott did find the temperature better than he had anticipated, but still swiveled his head back to Octavio with brows furrowed in concern.

"You don't even have a jacket."

"I can grab one before we go."

Elliott seemed satisfied by that and left the discussion there.

Loba came downstairs, holding the car keys and jangling them as her other hand brushed her hair past her shoulder. "Any takers on being driver?"

Alexander motioned her to give the keys to him, to which she happily did - she was a great driver, but happened to not be particularly fond of doing so, rather liking going on drives as a passenger.

Octavio quickly claimed shotgun.

Before they left, Blóð gave Octavio the fur item they'd been sewing earlier - the latter finding that it was a soft rabbit fur coat. The delight in his face was all Blóð needed to feel assured that he liked it, and helped him put it on. It was a little big, and just how Octavio liked his sweaters and coats. To all of their agreement, he looked rather stylish in it.

-

They were out for most of the afternoon, starting with a two hour Costco trip (that Octavio nearly made his partners carry him for), several smaller shops in between just to browse, a liquor store to buy champagne and sauvignon to celebrate New Years tonight (along with sparkling juice for Octavio who nay drank alcohol), and a hardware store mainly for Mary to pick up that level Elliott reminded her of. By 4:30, their last store of the day was the pet store - everyone individually needing one thing or another.

When they got inside, Elliott asked his partners if they could accompany him for a minute - guiding them to the aquarium section and proposing something.

"Pick one of these guys that you like," Elliott gestured to the wall of individually kept male betta fish, of all sorts of colors and sizes. "You remember those 5 gallon tanks I got a while back? Thought I'd use 'em, and thought a' you guys."

Like Blóð was simply an animal person, and how Octavio and Alexander were cat people, Elliott was partial towards fish. The two large tanks he manages in the living room are rather serene, and despite Renee's concerns, the fish kept there seem to love the foot traffic of everyone coming through.

"One collectively, or-?"

Elliott shook his head, politely cutting Alexander off, "Three total. Was thinking you all pick one, and I set their tanks up in my room. I-I thought it was a cute idea, I dunno'-"

"It's sweet, actually," Alexander softly spoke.

"Think so?"

Blóð made a content hum - leaning down a bit and surveying the curious little fish to see which one stood out to them. "Incr'redibly, my love."

Octavio's approval was nonverbal, made of him apparently finding which one he wanted immediately and picking up the container the little guy was kept in. He looked to Elliott with stars in his eyes and a grin, "Can we name them?"

Elliott chortled and waved his hand dismissively, "I enco- en- enco- implore you to."

"Octavio Dos."

His answer was so quick the others couldn't help but bear a laugh.

And by the time everyone was at checkout, there was definite fawning over the three new additions to Elliott's personal tanks - Ljón, the cream-colored, fiesty little thing that had fins flowing long behind him that Blóð adored, Violet, the red, pink, and white dumbo betta that was adorably curious much to Alexander's affection, and the deep-red colored Octavio Dos.

-

On the way home, it was decided to just grab something to eat on the way - near everyone could cook, but the idea of standing around in the kitchen to cook for fifteen people was lost.

Natalie passed the aux cord to Octavio, who was just taking his coat off for the ride home. He looked a little beyond himself.

"You trust me with the music? Wow - what'd they put in these fries?"

Natalie held off on a laugh while she tried to finish chewing, though her smile was tell enough on her amusement. "I actually like your music taste."

Makoa requested simply, "Nothing too dirty though, please, Silva."

"Me? Liking dirty music?" Octavio snorted, "You know me so well. How about flirty music?"

The man chortled. "That works, brotha'."

Octavio hooked the cord to his phone, and swiped his screen for a few moments before stopping on something. He looked hesitant, briefly, and pressed his screen. He set his phone down and put his hand on Alexander's, their arms both resting on the armrest.

The song sounded so dreamy. When the intro became a little more recognizable, before the lyrics, Loba made a snort from the back.

"You like this song?"

Octavio feigned offense, looking back to her with a "Of course I like this song!"

He shook his head and laughed softly - looking over to Blóð, who sat behind Alexander, he sang over the song and moved his hand from Alexander to cup their face.

"You're so uwu," his voice came sweet and a bit grainy, moving his hand from their cheek to their chin. Blóð practically giggled - blushing and leaning forward into his touch.

"You make me wanna' do," Octavio took his hand away and gave them a wink, "Naughty things to you - all these things to you, you."

Elliott joined the flirt-singing, joining Octavio in the chorus while they oh-so shamelessly wooed their other two partners (and each other, mind you). The others would've said a joke about it, but Ajay was busy holding Natalie's hand and cuddling up to her, while Anita was busy running her hand through Loba's hair and speaking quietly amongst themselves. The others didn't have the heart to interrupt their moment.

Besides, the song was catchy.

"You know you're cute, right?" Octavio sung in Alexander's direction, who shook his head. Still, he wore a soft smile and kept his hand reached over to rub Octavio's thigh.

Elliott leaned over to the side behind Octavio's seat, Blóð matching the movement from the opposite side, and wrapped an arm around the hunter's waist. He continued the phrase with a cocky smile, "Cute as a button-"

Then the two sang together, "Undoing the buttons and pushing your buttons, I just wanna' get you right-"

It was a red light, and so Alexander took the opportunity to lean over and kiss Octavio - lingering for a moment or two before pulling away and focusing back on the road just in time for the light to turn green.

Octavio's heart was a puddle.

Blóð reached a free hand across the armrest to drape his hand over the one Alexander had over Octavio's leg, their fingers soft and gentle in the way they caressed the back of both their hands. Elliott went to continue singing the song, but Octavio stole a kiss much to his surprise. He hummed, and just before they pulled away, Elliott opened his eyes and let his gaze linger at the man driving.

The glimpse of one another was quick, but just as warm as everything else, and left Elliott with a bigger smile than previously.

Octavio pulled up his leg that wasn't currently the resting place of Alexander's and Blóð's, resting his arm on his knee.

He was so lucky.

-

And finally by 6, everyone was tuckered out - ready to take some personal time alone before reconvening later tonight for celebrations. Putting groceries away, Elliott setting up the bettas (as well as having a bit of an audience while doing so), and having a pre-celebratory drink from the sauvignon left the group in need of a quick sit-down. They found themselves just comfortable in the living room, along with Bear and Octavio's cat, Octave, sleeping on one of the couches. Rightly, this was the couch the four of them decided to occupy.

Renee crossed her legs, her black-painted nails running over the leather of her knee-high boots. "Any plans before tonight?"

"Oh?" Tae Joon began, "I thought we were just going to be alone before- ah, ten tonight?"

"I'm just wondering if that was the time we could agree on."

Octavio gave a nod. "Should work for me, at least. I plan on getting blasted, hah."

There was a heavy silence - his other partners looking rather surprised and, especially Blóð, flushed upon hearing that.

Elliott cleared his throat. "Come again?"

Anita snorted at his wording. Elliott gave a quick "Not- not what I meant, uh-"

Renee shrugged, wearing a look painfully smug. "I mean...a bit too much information, but I'm sure that'll go well."

Alexander cleared his throat.

Octavio, despite his nature to immediately take things dirty, just now got what the issue was. And did he find it hilarious.

Through a series of snorts and laughs, he reiterated what he meant; "If I meant I was gonna' get pounded, I would just say that-"

Blóð, Elliott, and Alexander made a simultaneous "Octavio-!"

He kept laughing, shaking his head, "I meant- like, I'm gonna' smoke a joint. Ay, Dios mío - but hey, if that other option is on the table-"

There was another simultaneous "Octavio!" and it seemed to get him to stop talking and simply laugh. He and the others found this absolutely hilarious, leaving his partners to be lost for words and red in the face.

Octavio snorted, and dared to entertain a final joke.

"Like a refreshment."

"What?" Loba narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in interest in what he could possibly say right now.

"Y'know," Octavio snickered, "Quickie's like a refreshment. And there's four of us - heh, call that a concession stand."

Loba couldn't hold the shocked, boisterous laugh she made hearing that - no one really could.

There was a silence after the laughter died down. It was broken when Ajay snorted, though.

"Stop encouraging him-!" Elliott near scrambled to say, but was cut short when Ajay gave him a laugh and a 'look.'

"I know the one flirting wit' 'im all day isn't telling me t' not encourage him. Don't act like you don't like this."

Elliott quickly bit his tongue and raised his hands in the air.

"Touché."

Another small bout of quiet settled.

Loba snorted.

Octavio looked at her, and when their eyes met, they both snorted, and had to turn away to not outright laugh.

Given the situation, a little fun was wanted out of it. Of course, trivia about one another was a frequent, and a favourite, activity amongst themselves. If they all had any one exact thing in common, it'd be that they were all unabashedly nosy.

Loba uncrossed, then recrossed, her legs as she sat up a little. "Truth or dare without the dare, anyone?"

"I think that's a thing called 'having a conversation,'" Anita jokingly mocked.

"Then let's have one." Loba hummed, "I actually had a question for you," she pointed a nude-shade manicured finger towards Dr. Nox, who looked suddenly surprised.

"What is it?"

The woman leaned forward a bit, cusping her hand around her face as if she was telling a secret - the hand facing no one, ultimately defeating the purpose - and talking somewhat low but audible for everyone to still hear.

"Be honest. Is that sweetheart thing true, or was Octavio being dramatic?"

"Oh my god."

His exasperated expression made his partners in particular so delightfully entertained - Octavio especially, laughing and giving a shrug as he left the man to answer the question for himself. He must've mentioned it to them when they were at a store earlier today.

"The people are waiting," Ajay chimed in. It earned the approval of Loba, as told by the way she looked smug about someone else prodding it.

Alexander lifted his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, and when he couldn't stave the answer off any longer he was brought to the doorstep of needing to say something.

With hesitation, he sighed. "True enough that she responds to it as well as her actual name."

As if on cue, right after he finished speaking and everyone was ready to pull the expected "big guy soft for a cat" card, Bear shifted her position from simply lying beside him to lying on her side and pressing her face against his upper leg. Despite it all, the instinct to lower a hand and pet her big sweet face was lost not in the man.

The onslaught of "Aww!"s would've been anticipated.

[graveyard-tales]

I have a lot of thoughts. *jesters awkwardly to this post*

I just want Toza more involved with the boy’s life. 

There’s a lot of fucking hcs in here too.

‘Cause I mean, Mako and Bolin had lived in some pretty toxic environments. It wouldn’t be a stretch that both of them picked up some bad habits. No matter how much Mako may have tried to shield it from Bolin, especially if he was picking them up himself.  And they just got off the street! They literally just started their road to recovery!

Imagine Toza. He’s not their dad, he doesn’t pretend to be and honestly he doesn’t want to be. But Bolin worked himself under Toza’s skin so fast and under all that venom, Mako really is a good boy. God damn he falls so hard so fast and just wants to protect these boys. So he is now their uncle.

Some asshole notified the police with their “concerns” about the rumor of two kids living in the probending attic. That was the first day that Toza saw their adoption papers that Mako so helpfully provided. Proof that their dear uncle, on their father’s side of course, adopted them after their parents passed. They’re father years before, a badger-mole trainer tragically mauled by his own moles. And they’re mother had fallen ill after braving the cold in a desperate hunting trip up north. She passed quiet, but tragically. Toza learned quickly that Bolin liked to embellish.

T: These papers look real. M: That’s the point. T: We’re you get them? M: Don’t worry about it.

Toza doesn't worry over the connections a 15 yr old former criminal might have, he doesn’t.

T: Where did that jacket come from? B: Oh, we were at the par- M: Don’t worry about it.

But Toza should probably talk to them about stealing before it leads back to him and gets them all in trouble.

Swearing is another matter that Toza doesn’t necessarily have a problem with, only ... they do it so much. Tiny, thin sailors, these boys. Mako makes an effort to scold Bolin for is language, ever trying to be the adult, the parent. But he’s the worst out of both of them. He’s good at holding his tongue around certain adults, figures of authority. Somehow becoming their ���uncle” took Toza out of that category.

Finding out Mako could generate lightning nearly scare the life from his old body. He wasn’t ready yet, dammit. Toza was just dumping busted training dummy behind the building when boom, lightning. He’s kind of overacting. Mako wasn’t even near him and he was aiming at the water. Toza is just surprised a 15 yr old is the one behind it and is scary fucking good at it. But not as surprised as he is to find out that Mako’s the “boss’s pet project” he’s heard whispered when he was making deals the Triple Threats. He wisely doesn’t mention anything when Mako tells him Zolt taught him. 

Listen, they spent enough time around triad members to be on familiar terms. With some of, what seemed to be, their “top guys” too boot. Bolin and Mako are a little sexist. Mostly Mako. Not horribly so but more like ignorantly so. 

“”What do you mean I shouldn’t call a woman a doll/broad/skirt/babe/kitten??? (yeah I lightly looked into 20′s slang, i like to have a little fun as a treat)

They call a woman dame, maybe expect her to be girly and sexy but never underestimate their strength kind of thing. If they spent enough time around those guys to be familiar with, and grown up on the streets, they definitely interacted with the sex workers that “worked” for the triads. If not just seen them in passing.

Toza is an old bear that can still get it, but that’s not relevant. What is relevant is that he know a repressed bi teen when he sees one. Mako hasn’t been around a healthy relationship since he was eight and he’s been around mostly straight men. And no one has talked to him about anything. His “talk” was from a triad man with a woman on his lap, who was mostly out to tease/mock him. And no one ever mentioned men when they talked about sex.

So Mako pushed that shit right down. (Along with his attraction to women and his emotion’s honestly. Conceal don’t feel. Mako would be a big fan of Elsa I think.) It doesn’t help the load of self loathing the kid has. Toza is super casually gay around him but they don’t actually talk about it. (Hey he didn’t ask for kids, he literally doesn’t know how to tell Mako he needs to be kinder to himself and actually have him listen. He’s pretty sure he’d rather jump out of the building then try to think about how to approach Mako’s unhealthy need for control.)

Bolin has some issues with self doubt but Mako is surprisingly good at pep talks and reassurances. For Bolin only, Toza realizes, everyone else can fuck off he guesses. It’s mostly around his self imagine and his bending, Bolin doesn’t realize he’s a phenomenal bender for his age. 

Bolin just up and disappears one day and it’s the first time Toza see’s Mako lose his control. At first seems normal, tense and angry but not a far cry from how he usually is. But then he starts talking to Mako, asking about Bolin and he can just hear it in the kid’s voice that Mako is freaking the fuck out. Mako is just about to scour the city with Toza “reluctantly” tagging along when Bolin comes back.

He’s got a black eye and is cover in scrapes but has a good handful of coin and a bag of hot, fresh food. Apparently Bolin got dragged into a literally underground Earth Rumble and won. (Let’s be honest, Bolin would be the one to get dragged into a fight club.)

It’s the first time Toza see’s Mako actually yell at Bolin. So angry fire trailed his breath. Toza doesn’t cut in but he does feel bad for Bolin who just sits back and takes the scolding. Of course Bolin hug’s his brother the moment it’s done, apologizes for worrying him and they’re good literally the next minute.

It’s hardly the last time Bolin and Mako sneak into building all bloody and scuffed up. Mako is just much better at sneaking in then Bolin which is how he’s able to get to the lockers without anyone seeing him. Toza found him by accident honestly. Kids’s beat to shit but it’s not too bad. A little blood that needs to be cleaned up, some scraps that need to be patched. Says he’s had worst and Toza believes him. 

Toza never finds out what happen just that something in Mako snapped that day. Just was dealing with too much at one moment and was unable to push it down. So Toza had sat with Mako until his ass was numb as he rubbed Mako’s back. And Mako curled around himself as tightly as he could and cried like, well, cried like a kid who lost everything too young and was force to grow up too fast while dealing with too much at one time.

It’s the only time he’s seen Mako cry but Toza figures he handled it as rightly as he could. Handled it perfectly as far as Mako is concerned as the kid will sit with him, close and quiet sometimes. With the only signs that it’s a day that’s been too much is shaky hands and sometimes red eyes. 

Bolin is a huger and Toza absolutely has no problems with it. Crying into his shirt and blowing snot all over it when the kid is being dramatic is another matter. Toza learned that it was okay to be annoyed with this, even with Mako around. When Bolin cried, really cries he was a lot more quiet and clinged so tightly like he was holding on for dear life. He never did this to Toza but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen it. He doesn’t think either of the boys noticed when he caught them. Sometimes even naps weren’t safe from nightmares.

Okay, shit, wait I wrote so much ... I have more but this post is already long enough sjdfhgajksd

I just realized how much I love Toza or rather who I personally imagine him to be since he’s a nobody in lok and there is not enough content for him. 

And I just like to imagine Mako and Bolin are kind of shitty at that stage in their life because they literally don’t know much better. It’s the shitty people who were the ones that were willing to use them enough to keep them alive. It’s just how they had to adapt. They’re not bad just ... morally skewed. 

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 4)

part one | part two | part three

Compared to the all day insanity of his livestream, Lance’s 23rd birthday is super laid back. Hunk makes the hour drive into Harborville and the three of them hit his favorite pizza joint. It’s not as good as the one back home on Varadero Beach, but it’s a close second. After that they spend the rest of the day in he and Pidge’s living room playing horror games and snuggling together on the couch (let it be known that Hunk is a world class cuddler and his hugs can cure most ailments). He spends an hour on facetime with his family, retreating to his room at one point to talk to his mom and dad alone. He misses them so much, even though he was just there. He comes out of his room sniffling a little and lets Hunk scoop him up like a ragdoll.

Once July is over, Lance finds his schedule suddenly packed. His subscriber count is starting to inch towards twenty five thousand and he has to sit down and process that for a while. It doesn’t seem real. That’s a fourth of the way to a silver creator award - he never dreamed he’d get that far just making weird videos and singing parody songs.

But to what end? Does he want a youtube career? This was just supposed to be a fun hobby. Not that he wants to work at the cafe the rest of his life, but his associate’s degree in social sciences has sort of been going to waste. He might be able to use youtube as a stepping stone into something else.

But what?

He would normally consult Pidge, but she’s slammed with robotics projects and barely has time to hang out at all. Hunk is still online sometimes, but he’s frequently occupied since he finally grew a spine and asked Shay out after pining for her at a distance for almost a year.

Like how you’re pining for Keith, his inner monologue tells him. He shakes his head to shut it up. Besides, Lance has only been pining for what, four, maybe five months? Not nearly as bad.

Speaking of Keith, Lance hasn’t heard much from him since the Livestream. He never responded to Lance’s text thanking him, and he hasn’t played Overwatch in a while. Shiro had recently posted a video where they were finishing up their current bike and Keith had been there (looking amazing and wow is his hair getting long), so Lance knows he’s alive. A weird sense of dread starts gnawing at him, so he sends Keith a DM on twitter.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Hey man just checking in, haven’t heard from you in a while, you good? We should play OW soon, I miss my dps partner ;D

He hopes that’s not too forward. While he waits for a reply (and so he doesn’t anxiously check his twitter every two minutes), Lance starts working on the guitar part of a Hozier song he wants to cover, and he’s never been more glad that he took the time to learn how to read and write music. Lance’s channel has been featuring more love songs - for which Pidge and Hunk have collectively nicknamed him Captain Subtlety. But does it matter how not-subtle he is if none of it seems to be getting through to his intended target?

He spends a good two hours practicing and then takes a break, finally letting himself check his twitter. There’s a reply from Keith and Lance almost jumps up from his chair.

@k_redlion to @LanceyLance yeah man sorry just been really busy with work and the garage i’m free this thursday if you want to play

He’s not technically free. He was planning on filming on Thursday since Pidge will be out of the apartment almost all day and he won’t bother her. But for Keith? He’ll make time.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Heck yeah man just name a time!!

When they do play on Thursday, Keith isn’t very talkative. He’s always sort of quiet, but he sounds tense today. His words are even more clipped, and it sets Lance on edge. They’re in a queue for a game when Lance decides he can’t take any more.

“Dude,” He asks. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Yeah, right, Lance thinks. But he’s gotta approach this carefully. Keith doesn’t open up easily, he knows that much, and attempting to force it out of him would likely backfire.

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I know we’re not, like, super close, but you can tell me if something’s wrong. I’m actually really good at keeping secrets.”

There’s a bit of silence, then a tiny breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Like how you told the entire internet that Pidge pukes in the car if she reads anything other than road signs?”

Lance makes an indignant sound. “Oh come on, that’s not a secret! Anyone who’s been in a car with her for five minutes knows she’s has the stomach strength of a toddler!”

Keith laughs then, and it’s such a nice sound, even if it’s short lived. It breaks the tension enough that Lance feels confident about trying again.

“But seriously, Keith. I’m here for you, yeah?” Lance chews on his lip. “I hope that’s okay for me to say.”

There’s a stretch of quiet that has Lance almost breaking out into a sweat. But then he hears Keith huff over the mic. “Yeah,” Keith says, and it sounds like there’s a smile behind it. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

.

Lance gets another invite from Shiro.

It’s perfect timing because Pidge is finishing her summer term and is completely fried - something only a trip home will fix. And since she doesn’t have a car, Lance has the perfect excuse to drive her. With his neighbors set to watch his cats, they pile in Lance’s Civic, put on a playlist of Disney songs, and sing for nearly the entire drive. Pidge is damn near loopy after her final exam, but she finished her robotics project and most likely aced it. Like she does every exam. Lance doubts she’s ever seen anything lower than an A- on anything.

The Holts are just as chipper as always, even if Pidge collapses face-first into her father as soon as she steps through the door. He just pats her head and laughs. Lance brings their stuff inside so Pidge can take a much needed nap, then shoots a text to Shiro letting him know they got in okay.  They’re not set to film for another two days, but maybe he can sneak some hang-out time in there. Until then, everyone under the Holt family roof is on Pidge pampering duty.

Filming day comes and Lance brings a cake for them all to share. He pulls up to the house and parks on the street, noting that the house garage is open. Keith is inside, bent over a motorcycle and surrounded by parts and tools, looking so focused that he doesn’t seem to notice Lance approaching. He’s wearing a tank top and sweats and is covered in grease, but he still looks good, so Lance doesn’t say anything for a second and admires the view. Keith’s phone is perched on a toolbox nearby, playing music - Massive Attack. Of course he would listen to Massive Attack.

Keith finally notices him and stiffens, turning. With the cake in his arms, Lance can’t really wave, so he just shrugs and smiles. Keith eyes him up and down for a second before pointing to the door inside the garage.

“Head on in, Shiro’s in the kitchen.”

When he gets inside, Shiro stands from the kitchen table to take the cake from Lance and pull him into a hug. Lance thinks he’ll never get used to that. Keith wanders in a minute later and goes straight for the back of the house to shower and change.

Shiro looks to be in good health, as does Keith, though he’s not really meeting Lance’s eyes. Did he do something wrong? They drive to Shiro’s rented garage a few miles away and shoot for almost five hours, switching camera duty between the three of them. They get a hilarious outtake when Lance drops a socket wrench and juggles it spectacularly before it falls to the floor and bounces at least a dozen times - like something out of a cartoon. It sets them all laughing.

Once they’re done filming, Shiro locks up the garage and they head home. Then it’s time for dinner, barbecue again, but Lance isn’t complaining. He gets put on corn and potato detail while Shiro gets the grill going. Keith still isn’t being very talkative. He doesn’t seem to be actively avoiding Lance, but he thought they’d gotten to a point where they could chat candidly.

Kosmo provides a nice distraction while they eat, giving both Lance and Keith something else to focus on. As the sun sets, Lance could swear that Shiro is giving him a weird look.

“So,” Shiro begins. “Pidge is almost done with school, right?”

Lance nods. “Yep. Finishing almost a year early, even. Not that I’d expect any less from her.”

Shiro picks at a slice of pork loin. “What is she going to do next?”

Lance pouts, then shrugs. “Dunno. She’s got her eye on Boston Dynamics, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they welcome her with a red carpet. Have you seen her thesis? I can’t even pronounce half the title.”

Shiro laughs. “Yeah, she’s a Holt alright. Geniuses, the whole family.” There’s a pause. “And what about you, Lance?”

Oof. That sure is a topic. Lance leans back in his lawn chair and finishes his beer. “Beats me. I stayed in Harborville after school because Pidge wanted a roommate, but I don’t really have anything else going for me there.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “I can sort of work from anywhere? Dunno if I want to stay in a college town.”

Shiro nods with a smile, then glances at his phone. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says, then ducks back into the house, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

Now it’s just Lance and Keith.

And Keith is giving him A Look. He’s not sure what to make of it, his thick eyebrows pinched over his nose like Lance just grew a second head.

“Uh,” Lance says. “Something wrong?”

Keith opens and closes his mouth several times, then is suddenly very interested in his plate. “You wouldn’t go with her?” He asks.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Pidge? I mean, I could, I guess...? But I doubt she’d really need me. That woman is going places, y’know? She’s probably pretty eager to be on her own for the first time, especially after living with me for three years.” He laughs a little. “Though I won’t be surprised if she attempts to take one of my cats. Motoko always did like her more than me.”

Keith looks up at Lance and he looks so confused. Adorably confused. “Uh.”

Lance studies him. “Yeah…?”

Keith is chewing on the inside of his cheek a little. “Isn’t -- isn’t Pidge your girlfriend?”

Lance would have choked if he wasn’t so used to that question. “Haha, oh man, no.” He reaches for another beer from the ice chest. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Pidge and would take a bullet for her any day of the week, but she’s like a sister to me.”

Surprise is slowly dawning on Keith’s face. “Oh.” Then he starts blushing.

“Hey man, don’t sweat it,” Lance assures him. “Pretty much everyone thinks we’re an item. No one believes a guy and a girl can live together and not be dating.”

Keith looks so uncomfortable, his face and ears red. “Sorry. I thought - and then in your livestream you said you weren’t single, so…”

“Huh? When did--” But then Lance remembers his line about his heart being spoken for and now he’s blushing too. “Oh, right. Nah, I just tell that to fans, in case anyone tries to get too close. Which some have. It saves me a lot of headache to just pretend I’m seeing someone.”

He swears Keith’s eyes are glittering. “So you’re…?”

Lance nods. “Yep, completely unattached.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet that has Lance fidgeting as Keith keeps looking up at him from behind his bangs. He thought Lance was taken? Is that why he’s been awkward? Or is Lance reading too much into this yet again? He shouldn’t say anything, he should keep his mouth shut and wait for Keith --

Shiro picks the perfect moment to return to the back patio and rescue him. They chat for another hour and Keith has visibly loosened up, laughing loudly at Lance’s jokes and stories. When he says goodnight to make the short drive to the Holt home, Keith smiles wide at him, and it takes Lance’s breath away.

.

They only stay in town for another two days, and Lance spends more time with the Holts. On their way out, they swing by Shiro’s to say goodbye. Keith still doesn’t hug him, but he grips Lance’s hand tight and holds his gaze with those crazy intense eyes of his.

Pidge naps for most of the drive so Lance puts on one of his favorite mixes and hums along.

They have another two weeks before Pidge starts her last term of undergrad, so Lance throws himself into YouTube. The filming he did at Shiro’s was enough for three episodes, and thankfully one of them includes Lance dropping the socket wrench. He can’t even be embarrassed when he sees Shiro laughing in the footage.

He spends three days recording before finally posting his newest cover - “Like Real People Do.” He worked really hard on this one, recording several tracks to mix together and several camera angles. Lance splices it all together in his editing software to make a little music video, and, as a last touch, puts it all in black and white. He posts it and crosses his fingers, making an announcement tweet about it.

Keith likes that tweet and Lance melts into the couch.

Pidge rolls her eyes from the other couch, looking up from the giant book she considered ‘light reading.’ Lance had told her the tale of Keith thinking he was dating her, and Pidge took on her classic Resting Bitch Face in response.

“I’d say you’re like a lovesick puppy, but I feel like even they wouldn’t be this bad.”

Lance doesn’t even look up. “Let me have this.”

Pidge huffs and makes a vague gesture with her hands. “Lance. For the love of all that is sacred, please get your shit together and ask him out already.”

But Lance pouts. “But what if I’m seeing this all wrong?” he toys with his phone a little. “He’s super withdrawn and I haven’t known him for very long. What if this is just how he acts when he finally trusts someone? He hasn’t exactly flirted with me or anything.”

Pidge turns a page in her book. “Won’t know until you try.”

Sinking further into the couch, Lance sets his phone aside and continues pouting until it’s time to make dinner.

After he disappears into the kitchen and Pidge starts hearing the rattle of pots and pans, she takes out her phone and opens the text app.

(+328) shiro this is pidge. i need to talk to you

(+770) Hi Pidge! Everything okay?

(+328) in the grand scheme of things yes. i am however about to either lose my mind or commit homicide against my roommate

(+770) Lance?

(+328) shiro. listen. lance is hopelessly in love with your brother and if i have to put up with his pining for my last term i might flunk out from sheer frustration

(+328) he refuses to ask keith out because he’s convinced that he’s misreading it and keith isn’t interested. please tell me hes wrong

(+770) Oh wow

(+770) ahahaha

(+770) Oh my god, this is hilarious.

(+770) Keith is completely smitten with Lance, but won’t do anything about it for the same reason.

(+328) oh my god

(+328) theyre perfect for each other

(+770) Yep.

(+328) but i think it’s time for an intervention

(+328) before i do something ill regret

(+770) I agree. Any ideas?

(+328) yes actually

.

Continued in part 5 here!

[didsomeonesayventus]

okay long time spending in gestation but I imagine that someone out of the followers I have wants to know my onion on KH3 is 

Overall, good!

so consider wordbarf of very repeated and tired onions no one actually actively asked for below:

Alright so I’ve been trying to figure out how to make these words and what my opinions even are considering this game has been out for almost a year now (KH3 existing is wild imagine it turning a year old) so this will be. mostly bullet points + incoherent and unorganized rambling forgive me

BAD THINGS FIRST lets get the salt out of the way

Literally everything with Kairi was oof. I still feel her relationship with Lea is incredibly rushed given the last time they were interacting in canon he was literally kidnapping her but go off I guess nomura they’re brother/sister friendsy now at least the fandom can sell me on that better than you can. I seethe with rage recalling that they didn’t even try to hide that killing her off was a classic case of fridging (“You lack motivation” FUCK OFF) and I have been angry since the day I was spoiled by leak stuff accidentally. I wouldn’t have minded her getting her ass handed to her if they made it look like she tried and gave us some moments where she did defend herself and get some victories and not conveniently cut away from the actually badly needed training montage (surprise! this is why we have training montages!!!!) and I get she was instrumental in rescuing everyone and the fact she wasn’t THAT bad speaks for how much she improved but it still just. bites that she still feels more like a satellite love interest than ever. 

Kairi was bad enough to get her own thing but tbh everyone who isn’t Sora also.. really suffers. The writing is really Sora-centric here and that’s not inherently bad (see good list) but it leaves a lot to be desired, especially since they dog pile the extended cast moments in at the end. There was no big confusion at Ven and Roxas sharing a face, no talks between characters who would have interesting interactions given their histories and circumstances, no obvious sign of development from anyone except maybe sea salt family and Aqua. They’re here to be more one-note than usual and resolve their arcs. Ven in particular (I’m totally not biased clearly /sarcasm) I feel is a big example given he was kinda in a really rough mental state at the end of bbs?? and 3 is exceptionally vague on just how conscious ventus was during his nap so I can’t even answer if he was able to give himself therapy the past 12 years or whatever

Anti Aqua is a damn cool concept but ultimately kinda pointless and I think we could have received it better if it wasn’t spoiled in trailers and wholly out of left field. Plus Sora coming in after what was pretty clearly set up as a Riku moment- while it gave us the incredibly gay press triangle to Sora + use a big keyblade made from ur love moment -was uh! really cheap!!!! and ruined what was clearly set up for being Riku’s thing with an almost nonsensical SIKE ITS SORA (it’s saved from being wholly nonsensical by 0.2′s opening foreshadowing + it still kinda makes sense for sora to at least help but damn if the narrative wasn’t leading us towards a riku moment)

Also everyone was hit really hard with the nerf effect in-narrative so unless you’re the dream team you’re screwed I guess and that. doesn’t quite work since it makes everyone else look... not great. And I think this is kinda a miscommunication on part of Nomura and the fans (IM MAKING ASSUMPTIONS TAKE WITH SALT) in that we kept saying we wanted people “saved” but meant having their arcs resolved in a reasonable way that preserved their agency and power and relationships, but got interpreted literally as “alright Sora comes in and solves every problem, is tough on stains, and makes julienne fries”

And yet there’s also a lot of mean spirited “oh no sora’s dumb and helpless w/out a second braincell” which was kinda funny the first couple times and I failed to pick up on it first go I’ll admit, but honestly? Yeah. they pick on sora too much. Donald and Goofy are the most guilty, and everyone else by virtue of not seeing Sora that much actually in-narrative are off the hook from me because they probably didn’t know how much teasing he’d been getting from his pals, but it felt kinda like they didn’t know what to fall back on between the three besides “oh donald and goofy pick on sora” which is cute once or twice but the amount he gets and how it clearly leads to his breakdown at the end is uhHHHHhhhHH hm.

As always the pacing is pretty awful where the disney worlds are somewhat relevant at best and then the end is 0-1000 but that is a usual KH gripe so its pretty low on the bar

Attraction flow is cute and neat at first but it gets.. really wearing towards the end and in the serious fights at the Keyblade Graveyard BOY are they a mood breaker

the “repeat the plot” worlds- Tangled, Frozen, Pirates -REALLY stick out like a sore, ugly thumb compared to the worlds that went out and did their own creative thing, and Big Hero 6 was.. cute? but kinda maybe too much of a breather.

Frozen also get an extra award for “Audio mixer most in need of firing!” because who the hell allowed the do you want to build a snowman scene.

They did nothing with Scala and I want a refund on that aesthetic if they’re not gonna do anything besides a framing device with it

HEY WAIT THERE WAS GOOD THINGS TOO!

Good news point that may or may not come to pass: Re:Mind DLC might fix some of the above salt! We shall see and probably know by the time this post is a year old sfjhdsakjgh

SORA! Sora was actually a character again!!!! holy cow they pulled up from the utter nose dive that was DDD!! god i love this dork and it was really fantastic to see him back to normal.

The graphical upgrade lost a lot of the squish and stretch that the OG graphics had but you know what? pretty. tastey. good graphics and better at doing more subtle emotions and hey have i mentioned Pirate’s glow up? Pirate’s glow up. The details in Olympus to recreate the swirly aesthetic of the clouds and explosions and lava is a great touch.

Worlds as far as levels go?? really good! They feel legitimately like worlds and explorable and with their own flavors and I LOVE battle and field themes x2 its really great I’m down for less worlds if they keep the quality. Hell we have NPCs!! maybe even too many npcs.

Writing OVER ALL/ON AVERAGE I’d say has improved a lot! It’s still not a literary masterpiece or anything but I found the disney worlds really cute and easier to get invested in even if long term they were less relevant than I hoped they would be. In every world there was at least one scene I found myself actually invested in. Like there was something to the writing that was legitimately more endearing than usual on average, and toy box and monstropolis were strong contenders for really good overall imo

honestly there were moments that- as moments -were incredible. Wayfinder reunion scene will haunt me, and Sea salt’s was good too, final world and rescuing everyone was jaw dropping, getting the LoD Back was also good, Union X, Xigbar exiting left stage pursued by a bear, wayfinder trio making a grave for eraqus, all the gummi ship scenes had great chemistry, beach party ending, hanging out with rapunzel for the first half of Corona is adorable as hell, all the nods to scenes in the movies, the easter eggs, like the game is not consistently amazing but it is peppered with stuff that I feel in a bubble ignoring surrounding context just work really really well

Damn if the end boss rush wasn’t thrilling as hell and honestly??? really good. Hard to parse out first flush but I think this was a good decision and added a lot of blood roaring urgency and wild turns, and even if I want to overhaul a number of things about the endgame I think this can definitely stay

Kingstagram is a beautiful gift man

OST? A fucking banger all around and I love how they’ve made cutscene-specific tracks that play with the leitmotifs throughout KH’s illustrious musical history

Over all there’s some really glaring issues, but overall it’s KH really at its best. I’m not sure if it’s my favorite entry and I’m still really mixed + befuddled on just how exactly I feel and I think a lot of that is I had pretty high expectations and my own ideas of how it would play out since like. 2012. it’s really hard to detach from those feelings and ideas sometimes. But KH3 wasn’t bad! It could’ve really been worse, and the fact that it got out the door in the state that it was is a good deal

now here’s to the wait for Re:Mind and to see if it’s basically the content we’d get in Final Mix that could definitely bump up my opinion

[weabbynormalblog]

You got this!

Failure is a good thing...What???

In my experience it breeds strength, courage, conviction and belief in oneself!

That's right every step count; even if it leads to failure. Just another learning moment.

Perfection is something we all strive for at one time or another. The error free post, the ultimate cake, meal, artwork, skill, trade or even apparently phone call. We all do our best however our best often isn't always perfect. Success at anything usually requires commitment, a solid plan, consistency, knowledge and a wide variety of skills in order to successfully achieve realistic goals. Usually an optimistic big picture approach and managing daily details are the steps that lead to overall sucess. As humans we fail time and time again, success can seem fleeting and quite elusive at times especially when frustrated.

Failure really is only a complete failure when you give up forever. Like Anthony Bourdane. Suicide ideation is not "normal" behavior or anywhere near healthy thoughts. It's the red flag. It's the failure to thrive while being overwhelmed consistently.

Happiness and joy is available to everyone, regardless of situation or station. It's a choice, another option a better possibility.

It is attainable! Take responsibility for your own happiness!!! Don't let yourself be defeated by one little moment in a bazillion of moments that come in a lifetime! Success and failure are a matter of belief. Stop that degrading story playing in your head, that you'll never be better. Start saying what is easy, what is working; go down that check list if you have to. Never measure your self worth to others. We are all unique while being quite alike too. Weight the positives and agree to improvement on the negatives. It's all good! Change your vocabulary and thinking to a more positive mind set. We do ourselves a great disservice by comparing and analyzing who we are in retrospect to others. Judging our performance, philosophy, our earnings and material wealth. We are way more than the 10% of what people see.

I learnt by failing that I don't need to be successful or perfect at anything to be happy. I can enjoy the moment regardless of handicap or pain. That's a big realization in terms of adaptation and self acceptance! My therapist said pay attention to my thoughts, all of them, not just the good ones. And I am. I went to Giant Tiger to pick up some odds and ends and was stuck in a huge line at the check out. My endurance somewhat fleeting. I employ stretching and moving around while waiting. Extreme pain in my head, just breath slow in out sit in the pain and breath through it. I survived. Learning curve don't go at lunch time silly. Understanding our pain, our limits and abilities is a good start in the healing process. It's a big deal so I'm sharing it with you. It helps and works. Practicing mindfulness, energy management, a shelf life for your emotions, good sleep hygiene, the Yoga and a process free raw food diet. I even imagine it all chipping away at my disease. I'm starting to see results now in shifting my mind set. There may not be a "cure" for CFS mental illness etc or what terrible situation has befallen you, there's still hope for you to change, adapt and to create your own joy. Try out something that will bring some relief, you never know where that will lead you. Little by little, tiny beautiful bunches of happiness and success. So I'm going to keep working my schedule no matter how grim and depressed I am. I'm going to continue to rock my adaptation by not giving in to the fear of failure, lack or the unknown. I put in the time to go out to socialize and play music once a month because it's good for me even if I have to leave early or don't even get there. There was still lots of little steps of success throughout my day. I've been working hard on my stamina and energy consumption by practicing the standing, walking, singing and playing guitar. I was caught off guard by the crippling physical exhaustion. Next time I'll try an afternoon meditation session or even a power nap on music outing night. The smooth ride was over. Overdoing any type of activity can leave me in jeopardy of injury. Like loosing physical balance; I've injured myself enough to know no thank you body, I'm listening. Often I'm in bad shape for days with flu like/sun burn/tin man symptoms.

Ok fine, body you win this one.

Failure aside, I still got out of the house. I interacted with other humans and did something that brings me joy. I find when I'm not attached to the outcome, results or expectations, my moments can be enjoyable in spite of my body. Suddenly any down time becomes worth the little bit of enjoyment. Its about the quality of those moments and those were some good quality moments. Not a complete failure as I first thought. Yes it was depressing that I couldn't physically get through 3 songs this time. What does this inability means for my physical health in the future? Then the fear old me. New me however what I did perform, I did do justice! This is to be expected, the no more energy thing. This is my normal now. It's the nature of the beast. And I was pacing myself. I guess it doesn't matter that my practicing was successful or consistent because it suddenly became nul and void up against illness. I got to be realistic here. Yes CFS is a real fucking thing! It's like the narrow mindedness that comes with "flat worlders" have friends all over the globe. My CFS/TBI clearly cut me to the quick. It let me know who's bitch I really am. No more performing of any kind tonight! The old me: I was so bummed, ready to pack it all in, no cure; minimal enjoyment and relief. Ensuing some kind of abusive self harm behavior, the old me. The new me: Ok, so it was too much for me this time. Maybe not the next. It happens to lots of people. I know exactly how Lady Gaga feels. My body and mind gave out mid performance. Severe dry mouth, balancing and memory issues. It was awkward. I was somewhat dumbfounded. I had to stop singing and playing guitar or I was going to wipe out on the stage damaging lots of nice equipment and instruments. I can't keep putting myself at risk of falling. With chronic fatigue (insert auto immun/mental disorder)etc. Safety is an issue. You literally have no choice. Your tiered body/what's broken wins. Sometimes in extreme ways. I'll rest, dust myself off and give it another go another day.

I'll keep at it. I have too! I will not let illness dictate my life. I'll find a way to live with it, cure it or kill it which ever comes first.

For love the of myself, my offspring and all the others suffering.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 26

“You sure about this place, babe? How come you don’t just wanna grab some coffee from The Grind and go back to crash on the couch at home?” I asked as Colton pulled open my passenger side door to walk hand-in-hand with me down the sidewalk.

Luckily, I cautioned Tia’s persistent advice at dinner last night, and limited myself to only three glasses of wine, and one measly shot of Patron. So, Colton’s 7 a.m. feisty bite to the exposed skin of my cheek under the sheet as my wake-up call, wasn’t ruined with a blistering hangover. He was adamant about taking me to some diner he’d heard about from one of the guys at the bike shop to try their German potato pancakes that he was just so certain I’d love, and I was a sucker for a languid, sweatpants breakfast date every now and then. 

“It’ll be fine, Livvy. Let’s enjoy some good grub, then I promise we’ll squeeze in a nap before we head to the gym later. Deal?”

He kissed the fingers that were interlocked with his own, then smiled mischievously as we slipped inside, escaping the rustling winds of the morning. We didn’t stop at the ‘wait to be seated sign’, instead Colt scanned the room, peeping over the full booths and tables around the room.

“C’mon, I see an empty table over here, babe.” he pointed, tugging me not so gently to the left of the hostess stand.

“Colton, we have to wai-,” I started to argue with his bullish, bizarre behavior, but before I could state my objections, reality slapped me across the face.

Seated with their backs to us, both sipping on a black cup of the house blend, were two Indiana natives, very far from home. Mom turned around to investigate the bustling approach over her shoulder, and stood to push herself from the seat with an unsure smile.

“Wh-..how did you guys get here? What’s going on?” I babbled wrapping a halfhearted, confused embrace around her neck, searching for an explanation from someone in the party of 3.

“It was all sweet, Colton, Liv honey. He arranged the whole thing. He insisted we come.” mom confessed, admiring Colton with a look of appreciation.

“I wanted ‘em here to see you fight, baby. And to see the house and everythin’. They got here yesterday afternoon, and I got them all set up at Westin, and ate dinner with the both of ‘em last night to get familiar.”

The pieces started to connect then. Why Tia was so snarky with keeping me away from the bottle, why Colton was so incessant about dragging me out of the house before 9 a.m. this morning, and why there was a button-down dress shirt discarded into the hamper when I did laundry after a late return home last night. I internally tipped a hat to his successful undercover moonlighting, though.

“Kid wouldn’t take a dime from us, either. Paid for the tickets, a ride from the airport, and our room, too. Seems we owe this one, sweetheart.” I heard dad say as I took one of the empty seats across the table from he and mom.

Their visit may not have been on my terms, or my timing, but I did feel complete having them here. Although there was a suitcase of nerves that landed on that plane along with their arrival to Pittsburgh, it just felt, right. The four of us, together, all in one place had me swelling with a sense of gladness and completion, all courtesy of the mysterious man in blue seated to my right.

“I can’t believe you did all this, Ritter. I expect a play-by-play when we get home, ya’ big box of lies.” I leaned to kiss him sincerely.

“I’m pretty impressed with myself to tell the truth.”

The meal consisted of bacon all around, mom whining about the cold temperature, those potato cakes Colton was correct about me losing my mind over, and a general calm, steady flow of conversation. I was impressed at how normal, and interested Tony and Liz seemed to be the entire time. Dad never brought up a single utterance of basketball, and mom pounded me with questions about my match, and what it would be like. I felt a connection so genuine that had been minuscule for so many years, and I knew Colton played a tremendous role in the healing psychological wounds.

“You guys should come by the house and spend the afternoon with us. All my stuff is moved in, and it doesn’t look like a construction site anymore. Mom, we could swing by the food market to get what you need for gran’s jambalaya for dinner, too!”

My inner, overly-eager, rambunctious childlike manner took me over, and I instantly began bulleting out an itinerary of events. I’d have to take mom to meet Andrew, and she would die over the Americana at The Grind. And dad, maybe Colton and I could take him to the trolley museum and a PNC park tour in the next couple of days.

“Livvy, we’ve got to try and get to the gym for a few hours today. It’s down to crunch time, babe,” Colt reminded me with apologetic tone. “But, we can check them out their room, and settle ‘em in at the house first, okay?”

Of course, the gym. This week wouldn’t be one of family dinners and touristy adventures with the fight countdown fuse burning low. And now, I had even more work to do down at Temple Fitness with my parents in attendance. The weight of potentially letting Colton, Tia, and the rest of my corner down was sickening enough, now add the weight of Tony and Elizabeth and you’ve got one wound tight Liv. Perfectionism is a weakness not all can relate to, and of that they should be eternally thankful. I failed my Warrior teammates and the rest of my small-town not so many years ago, and that disappointment in itself nearly disconnected me entirely. I may have grown and evolved in many ways since relocating to the Pittsburgh, but the will to please my loved ones was a quality I would undoubtedly live with until my final breath.

“You do whatever needs to be done today, sweetheart. I know these next few days are crucial, so don’t mind us. We’ll take whatever time you can give us.” my mom pats my hand from across the table, and shot and thoughtful smirk.

“We’re just happy to be here, Livvy. You’ve got a good one there.” My dad’s opinion of the man I loved was never considered to be a worry I had, but in that moment, I couldn’t have been more prideful in how truly wonderful Colton had been to them, and to me for organizing this little surprise.

 After dragging my parents’ belongings up the front steps of our home, and leaving them the keys to my car in case they got the pangs to explore around a bit, Colton and myself dutifully reported for in for a session down to the gym. The last couple days I had been studying up on a submission move I really wanted to try out. The Omoplata essentially was a move to apply unbearable stress on the arm of your opponent, inevitably resulting in a tap out. Tia, nor Colton had introduced me to the technique, but it was one I had stumbled upon doing some research on my own one afternoon during some down time at the Pilot office. Having never actually seen it done in reality, I only had internet tutorials, and other martial arts circuit fights that had been posted online to educate myself.

Upon trucking into the somewhat crowded parking lot, and settling my duffle into a locker down the hall from the ring room, Tia had called to say something had soured in her stomach, and she wouldn’t be making it in to train with us today unless I wanted to mop up her throw-up. Naturally, I insisted she stay in and recover, leaving me in the hands of Colt.

“Grab the rope, let’s warm up for 10 minutes after you stretch, babe.” my handsome trainer instructed as he downed the settlings of a pre-workout drink at the bottom of his cup.

“Did you remember to tell dad about the construction on Liberty bridge in case they decide to venture out of the house?” My voice vibrated as I bounced with the whip-like jump rope.

“Yep, as we were walkin’ out the front door, Liv. Don’t worry, ‘ight? They’ll be fine. I gotta say though, I wasn’t expectin’ ya’ to be so thrilled about ‘em being here.”

I was fairly flabbergasted myself in that matter, but I had no explanation for my nervous excitement. I guess, maybe it was the common cliché of not knowing how much you in fact needed something, until you had it.

“Thank you, handsome. I really am glad you did all that. Although, I’m a little concerned with all the unsuspected sneaking around you were able to get away with.” I smirked, dropping the braided rope to adjust the tightness of my messy bun.

“It nearly got the best ‘a me lying to you like that, but it was for good reason, at least. Except, them being at the house every night for the next few days may turn out to be a little problem. Seein’ as their daughter can’t keep her greedy little hands off me & all…” he teased unnlacing his trainers to pull of his socks before we moved into the ring. He was knelt on one knee just a foot or two behind where I stood, then inched over in that crouched position to friskily bite the pert cheek of my backside, and grabbed a handful of the other.

I’d never get tired of those stout, mitt-like hands of his touching my body, and I let my head drop backward a bit to sigh into his touch. If by some unfortunate event, things between us happen to fall to pieces again, no man would ever live up to the bar set by the infamous Colton Ritter.  

“I can manage a little self-control, you animal. Let’s make a bet on who caves in first, shall we?” I said, stepping over the middle rope of the mat.

“You better be careful playin’ with fire girl. You may get burned.”

 We had bounced around, grappling and rolling for nearly an hour already, with just a couple rushed breaks for water, and I still hadn’t built up the courage to try the move I had been so eager to crack at. I welcomed the respect that Colton had to never half-ass me when we did train one-on-one, however always extremely careful to make sure I was never harmed in any way. His insights, and words of wisdom related to the cage were something I considered to be a matchless gift, and I loved him eternally for offering it up.

Just as I was about to weigh the Omoplata to be the impossible, especially considering my mock opponent at the current time, Colton let down a wall, and broke his own most crucial ‘golden rule’ of fighting. He attempted to tangle me, but instead, mistakenly gave me his back, awarding me the perfect moment to pounce. I pinched his shoulder between the bones of my knees, then swung one leg hurriedly over his head. Colton’s arm was trapped between the center of my limbs, essentially hooked around my left thigh as I crossed my ankles. I flattened his chest and face to the mat with speed I didn’t know I had, and swung my legs to the side, easing into a squat with his helpless arm still locked in. The stretching pressure of his muscle grew the higher I raised, and defeated, Colton yelped out with a tap.

Instantly releasing, I tumbled to my back, and laid to rest with exasperating breaths. Executing the technique on an individual with such a powerful strength, was equally as exhausting on the attacker as the victim, and I could feel my blood tingling, and rushing through my veins like the Colorado rapids.

“I sure as hell don’t fuckin’ remember teachin’ you that, 2-1,” my captor said still face planted onto the canvas, almost cackling. “But you pulled it off with damn near perfection. I’m impressed, baby!”

“That one is just a little something I picked up on my own. Coach…” I replied, mounting his back to massage his shirtless shoulders.

Colton flipped, doing a 180 to now laying on his back, with me still atop him with a sweaty, rosy face.

“Oh, so she thinks she can pin me now, huh? Don’t get too comfortable up there, Elliott. You know I don’t do bottom.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

[warrensb]

Prologue - My Saviour Arrives

Two and a half hours later, just as I am beginning to think that I might be spending the night at the border, my saviour arrives.

A battered yellow Syrian taxicab draws in, flashes its headlights and drives towards me. 

Beaming, the driver rolls down the widow and asks if I am looking for a ride. Without even asking how much he wants, I grab my case, dump it into the trunk and hop into the front set before he can get away.

“I’m Warren,” I say, sticking out my hand, and pumping his with the excited relief of someone who has just been told he’s going to live. “I need to get to Beirut. Going all the way?”

As we coast towards the Lebanese border post at Masna’a, I ask the driver, whose name is Mahmoud, why he’s still making the trip. Isn’t he worried about the missile strikes?

“Of course,” he replies. “But there’s too much money to be made to worry. Anyway, our lives are in God’s hands. If it’s my time, there’s nothing I can do about it. Right now, I’m going to pick up a guy who called an hour ago. He’s promised $1500, if I’ll take him and his family from Beirut to Damascus.”

That’s quite a sum. Momentarily, I blanche. Mahmoud laughs. 

“Don’t worry, khaweja. You are a bonus. I thought maybe I would not have any passengers. People aren’t really travelling to Beirut these days, so you get a good price.” It’s the second time that day I’ve heard someone refer to me using the polite term for term for ‘foreigner’. I suppose I should ask what that ‘good price’ might be but as I’m already in the car and I really don’t have any other choice, I figure it’s best to leave any potential disagreements until we arrive. 

It may be old truism, but there’s definitely profit in war. Three days into this one, Mahmoud is making money hand over fist. A journey that cost $15 a head a few days ago now runs to a minimum of $100. 

“Yesterday when it got bad, one Kuwaiti guy offered me $2000 to take him, his wife and daughter to Damascus. I told him he had to pay up front and then I picked up four more people on the way.” Mahmoud’s eyes crinkle. “He started to shout and threaten but when I told him I’d be happy to return his money and leave him by the road to go with someone else, he quickly stopped yelling. That was a really good trip.” 

Not that the others have been bad, either. By cramming seven or eight passengers into the cab, he’s been making upwards of $1000 a run. Multiply that by the three or four runs he’s been making a day and it’s little wonder Mahmoud hasn’t had time to bathe. He’s making more in a day than he normally makes in a month, probably longer.

“That,” he says, nodding at his feet with a cheeky grin, “is the smell of money.”

On the edge of Masna’a, we pass the still smoking remains of the cars hit earlier that day, and the unshakable resolve I’ve felt since Thursday, wavers. Suddenly, I find myself to wondering why the hell I am going back to Beirut. I am a journalist, but I rarely write about politics or war. I’ve made my living from the lighter stuff; features on architecture, art, design, travel and the odd social issue from time to time. I have reported from conflict zones, southern Lebanon during the Israeli occupation, the West Bank and briefly, Iraq, but by no stretch of the imagination am I a war journalist. I’m not even sure whether I will cover this one, once I get back. Truth be told, I’m not really sure why I’m going back at all. I just know that watching the city I love being destroyed on television makes me feel like I am dying.

Mahmoud starts cracking jokes. They aren’t particularly funny but they keep me from thinking about what I’m doing. Him too, I imagine. My intestines, locked in stony constipation from the moment I’d seen those missiles slam into Beirut International on Thursday morning, begin to roil and my stomach feels like it’s trying to digest itself. 

By way of distraction, I run through the route home in my head. The Beirut-Damascus highway, which cuts straight across the Beka’a Valley and up over the mountains is closed because the new bridge at Mdeirej, the highest in the Middle East, was bombed earlier in the day. That leaves the old road, which zigzags across the valley, through the vineyards of Zahle and then up and over the mountains to the Mediterranean, a narrow, twisting ribbon of poorly-lit, pot-holed tarmac best navigated by day.

The Lebanese border post is similarly deserted. I get out and walk towards Immigration. It’s so dark and so quiet that from the car park, I can hear the sound of some nearby television broadcasting details of the latest airstrikes. As if to underscore the news, the dull thud of explosions echoes across the Beka’a. 

On normal days, Masna’a is a circus of honking horns and people clamouring to get in or out but once again, I’m alone. There’s no one at Immigration, so I call out for assistance. A few seconds later, a trio of rather bemused border police pop their heads around a door. Adjusting his belt and smoothing his hair back into place, as though he’s just woken from a nap, one of them ambles over and takes my passport.

“Where did you fly from today? Dubai? Journalist? Ah, yes. Bien sûr. Hamdillah as-salemeh. Welcome home.”

With a flourish, he stamps me in and hands my passport back. He doesn’t even bother asking for my residency permit.  

“You know there’s a war, right? Yes? Well, OK then. Allah ma’ak.”

 Passport in hand, I get back into the cab. Mahmoud slaps the steering wheel.

“Ready?” he says, starting the engine.

I’m not, really. I peer out the window and up at the night sky. It’s cloudless, a carpet of gently twinkling lights. I check to see if any of them are moving. Or flashing. The way I imagine fighter planes would probably look from the ground at night. Thankfully, the heavens appear to be stationary. My head, however, feels like it is spinning. So, no bombers. Well, none I can see, anyway. 

We roll slowly towards the exit. Mahmoud turns off the headlights “so the planes won’t see us”. For a minute, I’m really impressed. Then I remember that modern missiles are heat-seeking. Even with the lights off, the car’s engine will probably be hot enough to home in on, especially if, as now seems likely, there is no other traffic on the road.

I squeeze my eyes shut and hope the Israeli air force won’t notice us. Or that if they do, they’ll leave us alone. Or that if they don’t, at least we don’t see the missiles coming.

I think of Joseph, a sweet, generous and kind-hearted man, my Lebanese brother, who is waiting anxiously (and angrily) for me in Beirut. He has packed his family off to his brother-in-law’s house in the mountains in the north of Lebanon and was preparing to leave himself, when I called him that morning to say I was on my way back. 

“What? Why in God’s name would you do that? ” Joseph had shouted after a moment of stunned silence, his voice rising by several decibels in the process. “Anyway, you can’t. There’s no airport. It’s blown up. How are you going to get in?”

I told him that I was about to get on a plane to Damascus, take a taxi across the Beka’a and that I’d be home by the evening. Even before I finished explaining, he’d begun swearing.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The Israelis are bombing everywhere. The Beka’a too. Do you want to die? Stay there. You don’t need to come back. I can’t believe it! Stay in stupid Dubai. It’s safe there. Do you hear me? Do not come back to Beirut! Ya Allah, is this boy stupid, or just crazy?”

We get cut off. I try to redial but I can’t get through. The lines are busy. Or down. Or blown-up. I wish I could have told Joseph that I am coming back because Beirut is my home, that it is the place where some of the people that matter the most to me live, that it is part of my heart and that I can’t bear to be away while the place and the people I care about are in danger, but his anger, born of concern, makes such rationalisation seem flimsy. Why was I going back to a country that hundreds of thousands of people were busy trying to flee? What the hell was I doing? Maybe I was mad.

The car stops. I must look a bit green because Mahmoud reaches over and taps me on the chest.

“Don’t worry, English. No planes,” he says, looking up and out of the window and then tapping himself on the chest. “Heart of iron, my friend, heart of iron.”

As the gate opens, I flash my passport at the guard. He couldn’t possibly be less interested. Abdicating any and all responsibility, he waves us through wearily. Mahmoud guns the engine. And then, at 160 kilometres an hour, we shoot across the border into darkness, straight into a war.

[consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis]

15 Things You've Definitely Said If You Have Fibromyalgia

New blog post! When you have fibromyalgia, there are a couple things you usually have in common with other fibromyalgia warriors. For instance, you probably know how it feels to be in pain all day...or to wake up after 12 hours of sleep and still feel exhausted.

Today, though, I’m talking about something slightly different than fibromyalgia symptoms. Instead, I’m talking alllll about what life is like with fibromyalgia...at least in terms of things you’ve probably said at least once in your life since your fibromyalgia diagnosis!

So whether you have fibromyalgia and want to feel less alone or you know people with fibromyalgia and want to better understand what they’re going through, keep reading to discover 15 things you’ve probably said if you have fibromyalgia. 

1. “Why am I so tired?” 

Often followed by...“Did I not sleep well? Did I eat something that doesn’t agree with me? Is a fibromyalgia flare starting up?” 

2. “I know I said I could do it yesterday...but I just can’t today.”

Fibromyalgia often makes me feel like a major flake. The truth is, though, our bodies' limits constantly change. Every. Single. Day. So even if I could go on a 3-mile hike yesterday, that doesn’t guarantee that I’ll feel good enough to meet you for lunch a couple days after. And as much as we feel bad for canceling and wish the situation could be different, a lot of times, we have to put our health first.

3. “What works for me may not work for you.”

This goes for “helpful” advice from friends and family (like “I know someone who was healed from fibromyalgia by *insert activity like praying, guzzling apple cider vinegar every day, going raw vegan, doing yoga, etc.*) and advice from doctors and fellow fibromyalgia warriors. Everyone with fibromyalgia is different...and this means effective treatments differ between people too. 

4. “What would not being in constant pain even feel like?” 

A doctor once told me that I may have cried so much as a baby because I was already in pain...so the idea of a pain-free life? Pretty mystical to me - and many other people with fibromyalgia. 

5. “Yes, I am going to bed already/taking another nap.” 

People with fibromyalgia typically need more sleep and recovery time than the average Joe, so if we are spending extra time in bed, know it’s because we really need it and can’t function otherwise. 

6. “I tweaked something somehow yesterday.”

We can do the same workout, the same stretches and get the same amount of sleep and still somehow tweak a random muscle one day and not another. Fibromyalgia is always full of surprises...

7.  “I know I look normal and healthy, but I’m really not.”

One of the biggest challenges with fibromyalgia is its invisibility. But even though we may look “healthy” on the outside, our invisible illness means we’re probably hurting pretty badly on the inside. 

8. “Who took my heating pack?” 

Sometimes, I even take my microwaveable heating pack with me to hotels so I can warm it up in the hotel lobby microwave. Desperate times, desperate measures...

9. “Today’s a good/bad day.”

Another challenge of living with fibromyalgia is how much our pain levels and symptoms can vary by the day (depending on the weather, the food we’ve eaten, how mad the fibromyalgia gods are at us, etc). On the good days, we feel alright and sometimes even like we are “normal” and can conquer the world. But those good days can make the bad days even harder to accept. 

10. “I am sooooooo out of it today.” 

When I have to describe fibromyalgia fog to other people, I compare it to walking through life like a zombie. How bad is it? It’s jumping when you hear popping in the microwave because you already forgot about the popcorn you just put in it. Or asking why your phone can’t locate the WiFi when you just unplugged the modem to reset your WiFi. (And, yes, both of these moments did happen just a few weeks ago...)

11. “Did I take my pills yet?”

Fibromyalgia fog + needing to take certain pills each day = a lot of double checking your pill organizer. 

12. “Sometimes life is really. Not. Fair.”

If you follow my blog, you’ll already know that I try to look for the positives in living with chronic illness. However, I’ve certainly called my mom plenty of times to cry about how it’s “not fair” that going to college, teaching in grad school and just life overall is so much harder for me than my “normal” classmates because of my fibromyalgia. And I sincerely doubt I’m the only fibromyalgia warrior who sometimes breaks down this way. 

12. “Yes, I am finally warm now that I’m wearing four layers of clothing.”

When I wrote one of my most popular fibromyalgia posts to date - 15 Ways You Can "See" My Invisible Illness, Fibromyalgia - I was surprised by how many others related to always being cold...and always bringing an extra jacket because the cold drastically increases your joint pain. 

13. “Whyyyyy do I suddenly feel so cruddy?”

Sometimes, fibromyalgia flare ups come out of nowhere. I’ve drastically reduced my daily pain by making some dietary and lifestyle changes, but I still have nights where I feel run over by a truck.

14. “You have fibromyalgia too!?!” *happy dance*

Even though it sucks to hear that someone else is struggling with the same obstacles you are, meeting someone who can totally understand what life is like with fibromyalgia is pretty dang reassuring. 

15. “I hurt and it was hard...but I did it.”

We might say this after tackling a challenging workout. After dropping the kids off at school. After just freakin’ getting out of bed. Regardless of what challenge - large or small - you just overcome, it’s important to remember that you are a BOSS for doing it even with fibromyalgia trying to drag you down. 

Personally, I think living with fibromyalgia has made me even stronger, better person than I would've been with a “normal” body. It’s taught me perseverance. Patience. How to love a body even when it’s slightly broken. And I hope that you say comment #15 out loud to yourself at least once a week. Because, to be completely honest, living with fibromyalgia is hard, even though some days are better than others. So celebrate your wins. Celebrate when your mind and body do get along. And keep kicking life’s booty!

The Bottom Line of Living with Fibromyalgia 

If there’s one takeaway I hope you get from this article, it’s that life with fibromyalgia has its ups and downs. Sometimes, we find ourselves complaining about a bad pain day or trying (and often failing) to explain how we’re feeling to others. Other times, we feel like Superman (or Wonder Woman) and rejoice at connecting with people who share our unique fibromyalgia “superpowers.” 

At the end of the day, though, fibromyalgia is a part of who we are and many of these comments make regular appearances in our daily life. My biggest hope? That you’ll be saying the latter half of number 15 more and more often in the near future! 

What do you commonly find yourself saying regularly because of your chronic illness (whether it’s fibromyalgia or something else)? Tell me in the comments! 

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[stripesquadsideblog]

Perhaps I should concentrate at work? Well, not gonna happen anyway XD 2,4,5,9,11,28,35,41 if you don't mind.

big post so brace yourself

2. Hate

Tsurushi is not a hateful person by any stretch ofthe word. He likes to put on a tough guy facade, pretend that everything sucksin that stereotypical teenage angsty way. He says he hate many things: peace, foreigners,his class mates, his clan mates and basically anything different from hisfriends narrow world view.

Everything Tsurushi hates is simply for the sake offitting in.

After the field trip arc he patches things up withKagura and stops hanging out with a bad crowd and eventually the little cuddlebug he is comes back out. He’ll never be a flower child with a smile and a hugfor every living thing like some of his clan mates but Tsurushi is generally areally nice person with a kind heart.

Ichirota on the other hand can be a very hatefulyoung man. He is bitter towards his parents for essentially isolating him whenhe was younger (even as an adult now he fails to understand it was for his owngood as he was very ill), he hates the era he lives in and Chojuro for creatingthis world of peace were people like him just don’t fit in and he really hatesoutsiders who preach chojuros peaceful nonsense without understanding what it’sreally like to live in a peaceful kiri.

While he’s not usually outspoken in his hate ofthings, he gets a lot worse after the field trip arc. He’s prone to violentoutbursts and huffing like a child when his views are challenged. His parentssuspect he’s resentful towards shizuma for failing him but they don’t quiteknow how to ask.

 4. Fears

Tsurushi as I’ve mentioned is a mess with anobvious anxiety disorder bubbling in the background. It might not be a fullblown illness right now but he’s defiantly going to struggle with it in thefuture.

In terms of actual quantifiable fears Tsurushi isafraid of Shizuma. Not so much after seeing him beaten and broken by boruto andkagura, reduced to a bloody mess on the floor a dejected look on his face as herealises how badly he just fucked up. No after seeing shizuma like that he can’tbring himself to be afraid of him anymore. He’s dangerous, like a caged animalyes but Tsurushi only pities him now.

When Tsurushi was a child he was afraid of caves aswell. There are a lot of caves in and around kiri that fill with water becomingwatery coffins for anyone unlucky enough to be trapped in them. After going tothe academy and learning some basic water survival he’s mostly conquered thisfear but still shudders occasionally on a stormy day during high tide.

Ichirota is afraid of lots of things. Not that youwould ever know that. He keeps his fears hidden behind a veil of confidence.But this mask is paper thin, it wouldn’t exactly take someone like Ibiki morinoto push the wrong buttons or pull the right string and have it all crumblingdown.

Ichirotas biggest fear is actually being trapped:inside a cell or a room or a coffin. The size doesn’t really matter he justneeds to know that he can get out

5. Crying

Ichirota and Tsurushi are both ugly criers. Their facesare red and their noses are running and they sob and hiccup like children.

However where they differ is in the details: Tsurushigoes from 0 to 10 awful fast. He could be ok one second and the next you need alife raft to escape the deluge of tears. However it doesn’t really take much tostop him crying again and get his face back to normal. One well timed joke andhe’ll nose laugh himself happy again.

Ichirota on the other hand is a real slow builder. Ittakes A LOT to make him cry but when he does he just can’t stop. He gets prettymelodramatic about it too, like if HE is crying then the world must be ending. It’spretty difficult to get him to stop and it takes hours for the flush to fadefrom his face and the redness to fade from his eyes.

9. Music

There is always music in kiri so both of them grewup with it. I think they can both play some sort of instrument. Tsurushis momsings and plays the piano and I think he probably did too at some point. He eithergave it up when he became a big tough ninja or gave it up when people found outhe liked to sing and play the ninja equivalent of Mozart because don’t be such a girl Tsurushi. He tries to hide it but if there’s musicplaying he probably knows it and will sing the lyrics under his breath

Ichirota has really grown to hate music. His parentsforced him to play when he was younger. They tried everything to get him interested:different tutors, about 20 different instruments and even bribery. He would getgenuinely interested every now and again because he was too sick to play with the other kids so he might as well. But gradually interest dwindles and he windsup staring at the ceiling again.

11. Best Friend

Tsurushi has a lot of friends, or at least thatwhat he tells himself when the group gets together to try and cause somemischief. But when he’s home alone he realises that none of them would come ifhe called and it makes him pretty depressed. He looks at a photo of kagura andhim when they were academy kids and wonders if he made the right decision tofollow shizuma if it meant being such a jerk.

He tends to just push those thoughts to the sidebecause who needs a best friend when you have as many friends as him?

Ichirota never had friends as a child. He developeda bit of a superiority complex to cope with it. A sort of “I don’t care if you don’t like me, I’m too good to be your friendanyway” thing. He was ill and then so socially maladjusted he didn’t makehis first friend until he was a genin and put into a team. Ichirota was prettystandoffish at first. I mean he was essentially forced to be friends with thesesecond class losers.

But as time wore on, he eventually he came to lovethe people in his team. The worked flawlessly together and he has photos ofthem together everywhere he goes.

But like most things with growing up eventually theteam had to move on. One member left to marry her fiancé. They live in sunanow. The other member was asked to join the hunter squad. Even if Ichirotawanted to talk to her he probably wouldn’t be allowed.

Now as an adult he is loyal to a fault and dare Ieven say a bit clingy. He was willing to die by explosion for shizuma and hisplans. I think it goes a bit beyond best friends with shizuma, almost to an unhealthydegree. There’s a little bit of idolization and hero worship in there thatsomeone emotionally unbalanced as Ichirota could do without

28. Home

Home for Tsurushi is the hachiya family plot. It isquite unlike the rest of kiri. It is lush and full of life and greenery. Hachiyashouse is covered in constantly blooming flowers and wildlife. The inside of hishouse is always the perfect temperature, inviting and present. The wet climateof kiri is perfect for growing things but the cold tends to let them down. As suchthe family land is heated constantly by their fire style users and is now someof the most fertile growing land in all of kiri.

The hachiya family uses this to grow herbs and medicinesfor most of the village. They are among the kindest clans in kiri and have noproblem sharing with anyone who might need it even outsiders. Now you mightthink that kiri Nin would eat such kindness alive but you’d be wrong. Everyone hasa sort of fearful respect for the high ranking Hachiyas because if they everrealise what kind of power they have in being the village healers (and thendecide to withhold it from anyone who’s mean to them) the whole of kiri wouldbe collectively f’d in the A.

Ichirotas house is constantly cold even in themiddle of summer. To the untrained eye it looks inviting and lavish. The oniyuzufamily are mostly non ninja with expensive tastes. They like things they knowand have a fondness for antiques. The clans land is decorated like a feudalvillage. With the clans enormous wealth they have found a way to incorporatethe latest technology in with the old world aesthetic.

Ichirotas house is not his home. When he joined thestripe squad they let him in on their little secret: an abandoned building theyhave turned into their head quarters. Shizuma shows him to his room. It’s easilya 1/8 of the size of the one he’s used to but he loves it 100x more. Because it’shis and he earned it and he can decorated it whatever way he wants. Home for Ichirotais a pokey shoe box room in a crappy old building decorated with lights andphotos and best of all no antiques.

 35. Guilt

Tsurushi has massive amounts of guilt about prettymuch everything he’s done in the last few years. Try as he might he just keepsmaking stupid decisions because he’s justso afraid of sticking out .he wants friends and he wants to fit in but atwhat cost?

He acts out of course in different ways trying tocope with it. Yells at people who don’t deserve it for asking questions “why don’tyou hang out with that karatachi boy anymore? He was lovely, such a politeyoung man.” Eventually the guilt keeps him awake at night. By the time thefield trip arc rolls around he’s hardly sleeping at night, frequently nappingduring class and in the afternoon when he should be up and about.

After the field trip incident he decides to make achange. He stops talking to shizumas messenger boys and makes up with kagura. Theguilt doesn’t fade like he wanted it to but he hope with time, things willchange.

Even after being caught and getting in trouble. Evenafter hurting a lot of people and even after he finds out about all shizumasmurders Ichirota refuses to feel oraccept any guilt. He remains stubborn even as his mother is crying in the chairacross the room for him just begging him to admit he was wrong and say he’s sorry.“I didn’t do anything wrong” he says through gritted teeth causing his motherto sob and his father to shake his head in anger. “I didn’t do anything wrong” he repeats it like a mantra as theycart him away in hand cuffs.

By the time he reaches his cell it’s more of aquestion than a statement

41. Memory

So I’m not sure if this refers to a specific memoryor their ability to remember stuff so I’ll just go with if they have a goodmemory or not

Tsurushi has an ok memory. He frequently forgets toput on matching socks, grab his lunch on the way to class and leaves hispartially done homework on his desk but he always knows what day it is, whenpeoples birthdays are and how many bottles of his favourite soda are left inthe fridge.

Ichirota hates forgetting things. Really trulyresents it. He has very few memories from early child hood. He spent so muchtime in hospital back then he tells himself it’s probably not worthremembering. He’s beginning to getting more forgetful lately too which reallyscares him. Both sets of his grandparents had some sort of dementia and hewonders if it’s hereditary or that his illness may have set it off prematurely.He brings his concerns to his parents who tell him he’s probably just stressedor tired. he thinks to himself that he can’t wait to forget about them.