#it was ice blue when i got it and it still is but a decade of use will do shit to those colours so now it's all dirty and slightly yellowing

[justlookfrightened]

'I Wanna Be Like You'

Filling a prompt from @goddess47: A new rookie has broken one of Jack's rookie records and Jack finds he's really upset; Bitty offers comfort.

The puck thwacked against the tape on Jack’s stick just as he drew it back, and Jack fired it toward the net in one motion, sending the frozen rubber disc sailing over the goalie’s right shoulder and into the back of the net.

In an instant, Willie was embracing him against the boards while Poots and Connie skated in to join the celebration.

Hold on for another thirty seconds, and the game would be theirs.

Sure, it was a meaningless game at the end of another lost season, at least for the Falconers. The best that could be said about it was that the team was playing spoiler, ruining the Blue Jackets bid for the last playoff spot in the east.

Well. They wouldn’t have beaten Carolina in Round One anyway.

The buzzer sounded and Jack started to join the team as they filed down the tunnel towards the dressing room, stopping when one of the broadcast producers plucked at the sleeve of his sweater.

“Number two star,” the producer said.

Jack nodded, waited for Montblanc, the goalie, to take his turn and salute the crowd as number three star, then skated out and raised his stick to the Providence crowd’s cheers.

Willie, who had scored the first goal and gotten the primary assist on the third — Jack’s goal — was waiting to go out as first star.

“You mind waiting here a minute?” the producer asked as Jack tried again to go to the dressing room.

He was tired, his shoulder hurt and his gear was starting to feel uncomfortably clammy. He didn’t know why they would want him for the post-game on-ice interview; that was the first star’s job, although sometimes it got passed to the second star if the first one was new to North America and wasn’t comfortable speaking in English.

That wasn’t the case for Willie, though. Matty Wilson had been drafted by the Falconers in the first round last summer, a product of Minnesota who had moved to Canada in high school to play major juniors. He wasn’t huge for a hockey player, but he was compact and strong, with a powerful first step and a cannon of a shot. He also had the good looks and winning personality that meant he was likely to be the next face of the Falconers.

That was fine with Jack. A decade into an NHL career that he had thought wouldn’t happen at all, Jack was ready to pass the torch. And Willie had had a good season. A great season for a rookie.

Valerie, the broadcaster who did the rink-side interviews, positioned herself between Willie and Jack at the boards.

“Congratulations, Matty!” she said. “With your goal and assist tonight, you have 65 points for the season, a new record for a Falconers rookie.”

“Thanks,” Willie beamed. “It’s been a great season, and I’ve learned so much and developed so much more as a player.”

“Do you know who set the previous rookie scoring record for the Falconers?” Valerie asked, turning to Jack.

Because of course. Jack had set the previous rookie record, at 64 points.

Valerie explained that in case anyone in the arena had missed the point, while Jack offered congratulations to Willie.

He meant his congratulations. It was a huge accomplishment, something that wouldn’t have happened without Willie playing almost every game of the season, without him playing serious minutes in those games, without him becoming a very real scoring threat nearly every shift.

Almost like Jack, who had eclipsed his rookie point total five times in the last 10 years, but not this year.

Willie thanked Jack, and went on to say, “It’s a real honor to be mentioned with Jack, let alone play on the same line. I can only hope to have a career like his.”

Then they were headed down the tunnel side by side, Jack working to make sure he didn’t have a sour expression on his face.

Bitty was still up when Jack let himself in the back door of the house they’d bought three years ago. That was when Jack had signed his last contract, the one with the no-movement clause, and he and Bitty had agreed it was time to think about raising a family. No kids yet, but Bitty adored the dog they’d adopted two weeks after moving in.

The house wasn’t far from downtown Providence, but it was on a big enough lot for Bitty to have a large garden with room left over for an eventual play structure, and, maybe someday, a tiny rink in the winter. Bitty loved it because it backed up to the water, and the kitchen had marvelous natural light for taping his cooking segments.

Jack liked it because he could go out on the back deck at night, and it was magnificently quiet.

“Nice goal in the third,” Bitty said, looking up from his laptop on the kitchen table. “Protein shake is in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, letting one word serve as answer for both things Bitty told him. “Puck go out yet?”

Puck lifted his head from the rug in front of the sink when he heard his name.

“Not yet,” Bitty said.

“Come on, chiot,” Jack said, still carrying the tumbler with his shake.

He stood on the deck while Puck sniffed around the yard, watched the dog’s ears prick forward when a rabbit passed by on the far side of the fence, gazed out at the bay. This was better, right? Better than being a rookie, wondering how his career would turn out? He had a home, and a husband (and a dog) who loved him, they were planning to raise a kid or two or three together, his name was on the Stanley Cup twice … this was better. 

Better than having his whole life ahead of him? Better than having his face on all the billboards and the sides of buses. Well, yes, for that part. Even though he was still on some billboards. 

Some things were worse. The way his shoulder hurt after a hard game. The ache he was starting to feel in his hips every day when he got out of bed. How intentional he had to be to recover from one game and be ready for the next.

“Jack?”

He hadn’t heard Bitty come out behind him. Jack looked over to see his husband wrapped in old oversized hoodie, wearing flannel pajama pants and fuzzy slippers, carrying a steaming mug of what smelled like chamomile.

“You okay?” Bitty asked. “Puck should be ready to come in by now.”

“Ouais,” Jack said. He sighed and looked up at the sky, imagining the stars he knew were there from the nights he had spent at the family cabin in Nova Scotia. “Sorry. Just … thinking.”

“About what?” Bitty said, coming to stand right next to Jack, so that when Jack lifted his arm it settled naturally around Bitty’s shoulders, pulling him even more closely to Jack’s side.

“Willie. Matty Wilson. He broke the Falconers rookie scoring record tonight.”

“I saw,” Bitty said. “Is that what’s got you down, that he broke your record?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Jack said.

“No, sweet pea, I didn’t mean —”

“No, I know you didn’t,” Jack said. “It’s just, it’s not the record, really. Records are made to be broken. It’s a cliche, but it’s true. I didn’t expect it to last forever.”

“But you didn’t expect to score the goal that let someone break it?”

“I didn’t even know,” Jack said, with a little huff. “I’m his captain. I should have known. I mean, I knew he was having a great season, I knew he was close, but … maybe I didn’t want to know? I didn’t know when I set my record.”

“That’s because the previous record was like, forty points or something,” Bitty said. “You didn’t break that record, you obliterated it.”

“And we had so much success early on,” Jack said. “Then these last few years have been tough. I wanted to stay around until the team gets better again, until we have a chance … but I don’t know if I can. Did you hear him, Bits? Saying that he hopes he has a career like I’ve had? Like it’s over?”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually say that,” Bitty said.

“Maybe not,” Jack acquiesced. “But the implication was there.”

Bitty hummed a noncommittal response.

“I guess I was just remembering what it was like, back when I was a rookie,” Jack said. “I was so worried about everything. I thought I’d ruined everything and would never play in the league, but I did … and I was afraid I’d ruin it again and there would be no more chances.

“And we were new, too, you and me — really, maybe not the best idea for either of us, timing wise, but we made it work,” Jack said.

“That we did,” Bitty said, nuzzling a little into Jack’s shoulder.

“Once we got to the end of the season, and made the playoffs, it felt like — like anything was possible,” Jack said. “And once I retire, it won’t be anymore.”

“No,” Bitty said. “It won’t. Every choice you make — every choice everyone makes — closes off other choices. We bought this house, not the one in Warwick. I went to Samwell, not Georgia. Sometimes we miss out on things just because we got older, or because things don’t go our way. I hate to have to admit this, Jack, but I will never be an Olympic figure skater. And you will never be an NCAA hockey champion. Even though you deserved that so much more than me.”

“You deserved it,” Jack protested.

“I’m not saying I didn’t.” Bitty answered. “But you did too, more than I did. … I don’t know what I’m saying, really. Just that, no one gets everything they want, and I don’t think anyone’s life is really easy, not when you know them well enough to really know. But I hope you don’t have too many regrets. Not about your career, at least.”

“No,” Jack said. “Not about my career. Not about us, or our life, either. I could never have imagined this when I was growing up. It’s just — I got jealous, I think. I got jealous, because Willie still has everything ahead of him, and that feeling that everything is possible. And I remember how exhilarating that was, and how scary. Why did I waste my time being scared? Why didn’t I enjoy it more?”

Jack felt Bitty shrug.

“Because it is scary, when you don’t know how it all turns out,” he said. “People forget that part. Somebody saying they want to be like you — that’s a compliment, Jack. Take the win.”

“I guess,” Jack said. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

He turned to kiss the side of Bitty’s head briefly.

“And I know I got lucky,” he said, before releasing his husband and calling the dog, who had been sniffing at the bottom of the fence in hopes of finding another rabbit.

“And I know one more thing,” Jack added, as the three of them turned towards the door. “Willie won’t get to win a Stanley Cup his first year. I guess I’ll always have that.”

Bitty shook his head as Jack waited for him to enter the kitchen first. 

“That’s the spirit,” Bitty said. “Is there anything you won’t turn into a competition?

[traumasurvivors]

Here’s a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I’ve also put it below the read more for people that don’t like external links. But if you're okay with it, checking it out on my personal website is really nice (and even giving it a heart if you can)! I don't make money from my website, so there are no intrusive ads or anything like that to stop you from reading the article.

Embracing Your Inner Child

This applies to anyone, but I really want to emphasize this to my fellow survivors who went through trauma as children and/or teenagers.

I’m so sorry you lost part, most or all of your childhood. That doesn’t mean it’s too late to give your inner child what you can. This includes comfort but it also includes doing the things you didn’t get to if you can.

Play the fun games. Buy the tasty treats. Go on adventures.

It’s never too late to feel a little more of the kind of joy you had (or should have had) as a child. You may not be able to be a child again, but you can still help and support your inner child.

You might have been told that a fun idea you had was “silly” or even “stupid.” When you have those thoughts now, instead of rejecting it, embrace the “silly” idea and let yourself enjoy it. It’s not shameful or wrong to do the things your inner child wants to do. It’s okay to be “immature” sometimes, even if you’re twenty years old. Or thirty. Or sixty. I just want to say that I don’t think any of this is immature, but I know that is a bias and judgement a lot of us might pass on ourselves. 

A short, not at all complete list of things you might do for your inner child:

Watch childhood movies or tv shows (Did you watch “Blues Clues”, or “Pokemon”? Maybe “The Land Before Time”? There’s no reason you can’t still enjoy them.)

Listen to “silly” music, maybe singing along or dancing to it (for me, one favourite is “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from The Lion King. I know every word and have a dance party everytime it comes on my shuffle.)

Go to the park and use the swings (I don’t know why, but flying up just a few feet can make me forget all my “grown-up” worries)

Have a treat just because (maybe that big sundae your parents never let you have, or the chicken nuggets you haven’t had in a decade). Maybe you want to fulfil your childhood dream of having ice cream for breakfast! 

Go to the toy store - maybe even get some stuffed animals or other toy items. (I just recently realized that I can fulfill my childhood dream of collecting certain toys that I never got to have when I was younger!) 

Ride a roller coaster and scream your head off on the way down (I like to try to be in the very first car)

Make creative, crafty stuff - like a painting or drawing, or decorating a picture on construction paper with googly eyes and glitter or a clay model with a weirdly shaped head (even if the result looks like something you’d expect to see in a kindergarten class, or the process makes a mess that looks like a glitter bomb went off)

Another aspect of embracing your inner child is trying to give your inner child the person you needed when you were a child. 

This might mean standing up for yourself when others try to put you down or take credit for things you’ve done, even (or especially) if no one else spoke up for you when you were a child. 

It might mean offering comfort and compassion to yourself, and not being too hard on yourself when you make mistakes that you would have been insulted for as a child or don’t know something that “everyone learns as a child.” Maybe now you can teach yourself that accidents happen, and spilling a drink or breaking a plate is not the disaster and failure of character that you were told as a child. 

It might mean being patient with yourself when something is harder to do than you feel like it should be (whether you actually aren’t able to do it as easily as others, or you have unrealistic expectations of its difficulty because of the expectations put on you as a child). There are lots of instructional videos out there to help you to gain basic cooking or cleaning skills. If you never really learned to read, there are programs to help you. If you weren’t allowed or able to learn to manage your emotions or relationships in healthy ways, there’s help out there for you. There is absolutely no shame in not learning any kind of skills you feel you “should” have learned as a child, and it is okay to learn them as an adult.

You may have had to grow up too fast. You may not have been allowed to do the fun things. You may have suffered trauma that shattered your childhood. I’m here to tell you that you still have an inner child, and embracing that inner child is good for you. Just because you’re an adult, at any age, doesn’t mean that you’re too old to have fun.

No one else gets to decide what’s right for you - you get to decide what you enjoy and what you want.

And it’s never too late to remember, indulge, listen to, and embrace your inner child. Let them be a part of how you choose to move forward. It’s time for us to realize that there is no one way to be an adult, and we get to decide what being an adult means to us. And if that means I want to rent a bouncy castle for my birthday, then that is my perfectly valid version of an adult birthday (a birthday which my inner child would be thrilled about, by the way).

[h3arts4strs]

Birds of a Feather

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K. Sato x fem!Reader

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02 ᯓ★ After a long 13 years, the pair reunite and get talking again, breaking the ice and reigniting that childhood spark through reliving memories, learning about each other and new lives.

INCLUDESᯓ★ dual pov

WORD COUNTᯓ★ 1.4K

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There is no way. The dark-haired man lowers the ugliest pair of reflective blue sunglasses and his grey eyes look into mine, a slight shimmer still seeping through. I knew those eyes, the ones that would gaze into mine with nothing short of love and adoration.“Sato?” In the moment I had no words. I felt my mouth go dry at the thought of what I should say, if he would apologise and if I should apologise. He returns his glasses to his eyes and puts a finger over his lips, pleading for me to keep it down. I nod at his request and motion over to a quieter spot in the cafe where I would wait for him to receive his drink then for us to finally talk, face to face after a long 13 years. I am quickly snapped out of my thoughts when the man behind us grumbles about how long I am taking, prompting me to flash him an apologetic look before moving to the smaller table near the edge of the restaurant. 

As much as I could deny the feeling, I was overjoyed to see my best friend again, even though I had planned on moving past that time in my life. Would it be suspicious if I claimed I remembered I had plans to tend to? It wouldn’t be a lie considering today was meant to be a Sunday reset, preparing for the long work week ahead of me. I sigh and start to fidget with the gold rings that adorned my fingers, that would not be right. I decided to endure our reunion until a daunting realisation hit me: the first time Kenji had to see me in over a decade was after I ran 5km, I was in sweatpants and a few days before my next hair and nail appointment. Damnit. I quickly recollect my emotions, realising there are more important things to worry about, what do I say after all this time?

It was as I was thinking of possible conversation starters, Kenji returned with what appeared to be a green smoothie. He sat in the cafe chair across me, resting his leg on the other as he leaned back, sinking into the soft leather of the chair. “Y/N, God, it's been ages. How have you been? ” He smiles, keeping on his sunglasses, probably to avoid being recognised. I don’t know what it was, but there was something about him now. Whether it was the arrogance he carried himself with, the protruding American accent or the stupid sunglasses that he wore, something had definitely changed. “Oh, I’ve been good.” I awkwardly reply, not knowing how to reply to his question. Sato had acknowledged the awkward tension that was currently suffocating us and had decided to take a different approach. “How was your workout?” He smiles as he takes in my appearance, “I guess you gotta keep fit with your modelling career, hm?” I slightly furrow my brows in confusion before realisation strikes, he remembered? “Oh, no. I work as a fighter pilot in the KDF. I never got into modelling.” I quickly noticed the surprise in his expression as he leaned in a bit closer. “Really? You always spoke about it as kids, how you would be the prettiest model, on all the front covers… not to mention you’ve got the looks.”  I let out a chuckle, “Thank you but I guess plans change.” “I guess, so what, are you following your parents' footsteps?” he asks with a complacent smile as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, you could say that.” I nod and slightly smile, hoping my eyes would not betray my expression. “Anyways, Mr Baseball Sensation, what brings you back home?” 

“Oh, I guess I just wanted to try out something new, yknow? Help out the Giants, get them where they need to-“ His smug smirk fades as he momentarily pauses to look out the cafe window, noticing what appeared to be the paparazzi. People with cameras and notepads had flocked past the cafe, most probably in search of the infamous Kenji Sato. “Wanna get outta here?” he asks me, already having stood up with his possessions in hand. “Uh, sure” I smile, 

. . . 

“Did that really happen?” I ask, trying to contain my laughter as Ken and I were aimlessly walking down the street. We had moved long past the cafe although we initially planned to take a short stroll before parting ways and going back to living our lives separately. I was relieved the tension quickly diminished as the short stroll had become a walk, that was surely over an hour, where Kenji had told me about his crazy experiences in America, baseball and his newfound celebrity lifestyle. “Of course it did, I'm like the greatest baseball player in the league.” He pridefully says as he puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk. I smiled as I appreciated the moment, not realising how much I had missed this, even if he may have gotten a bit cocky, I had still missed Ken Sato. I snapped out of my thoughts as I noticed we had come to a sudden stop. “Eh, Y/N,” Kenji leans slightly closer to my height, whispering in a hushed tone, “isn’t that the park we used to go to as kids?” 

“It is.” We walk into the park’s entrance and I smile as flashbacks from the past return. All the afternoons after baseball matches, the days we would feed the ducks while our mothers spoke and all the bumps and bruises from falling off the jungle gym flood my memories. “Race you?” I ask him with a smile. “Race? Aren’t we a little too old for that? Plus we are gonna get all kinds of-“

 * * *

“What are you scared of losing?” I furrow my brows and scoff. Me? Greatest baseball player ever? Bullshit. “Fine, let's race.” I remove my arm from its comfortable spot around her shoulder and get into position, ready to disprove her. “To the big tree, the one by the lake.” I nod, focusing on beating Y/N. “I’ll count. One, two, three-“ Before I could say go, Y/N already started running, getting a pretty good headstart ahead of me. Still a cheater. I sigh as I work to quickly catch up to her, refusing to lose to Y/N. After managing to carry me past her, smiling as the giant oak made itself visible to me knowing I would secure victory. As I looked back to see how far in the dust I left Y/N behind, I was astonished to notice how she was passing me, quickly too. I watched as her dark curls bounced as she ran past me, making me forget we were even racing. As her laugh filled the early spring air, I couldn’t help but admire her. She's grown so much from when I last saw her, somehow even more beautiful than before. I am snapped out of my thoughts when I notice how close she is to the tree. I regain focus and push myself, still aiming to beat her in the race. I feel my hair start to break free from its usual style, my fringe falling to my forehead due to the speed I was running. Although I slightly struggle to catch up to her pace but manage to do so and hurry to touch the tree, making sure I win this. Just as I am about to close the gap between the oak and myself, she touches the tree before me. 

“I win,” She says in a breathy voice as she slumps against the tree and leans her back against it, a tired smile plastered on her glossed lips. “I beat you.” I roll my eyes and join her on the floor, leaning against the tree to rest. “Yeah, 'cause you cheated.” “Just sounds like someone is being a hater.” She chuckles. I shake my head and remove my sunglasses, resting them on my head in an attempt to push my fringe back. “Whatever.” I look over her, a content smile on my face. “ Wanna get ice cream?”

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TAGLISTᯓ★ @bakugouswaif

✮chérie

[xshimaeraxx]

okay but what if jack was originally a spring spirit. what if he was a spring spirit but got turned into a winter one by manny, or mother nature, or fuck, even pitch - but for this one let's go with mother nature.

no one'd believe him. he'd've been around for, what, 50 years before she changed him, at most, bc i imagine that's how long it takes for immortal spirits to catch notice of any newbies, esp given how jack seems to be the only (major/[ ] who stays there] spirit in burgess. so. 51 or 53 years in, MN comes in, goes, "hey yeah you're a winter sprite now" and jack just goes "what the fu-??"

he assumes, for the next decade or so, that it's a joke. (whenever faced with evidence it's true, he stays in denial for another six.)

it can't be true, ignoring how his mud-brown hair has turned white (there's only one stripe of brown left, by the time the movie comes about. he dyes it the same shade of ice-white the rest of his hair has turned into over the last 300 years; the reminder is more painful then anything, at that point, and so it's better left forgotten, in his book) and his well-tanned skin into the pale complexion of the likes of which he's only ever seen on winter seasonals. ignoring how one of his eyes is now bright lakewater-blue instead of both of them being sun-shone gold-brown, how his freckles are white like little snowdrops embedded into his skin instead of like miniature sunflowers sprouting themselves again and again with every new spring.

and now imagine how hard it'd be for jack, to transition from Type A to Type fuckin' Z, even if slowly - but isn't that even more painful, in the end? he loses the ability to make his flowers, his vines, his grasses, his trees - he gets sluggish in early spring and is conked out every time by the 30th of the first month of the too-warm (much, much too warm, and when has anything ever been too warm for him?) season, no matter how much he tries to stay awake, to see just someone's flowers even if not his own. he fails. he always, always fails.

then '68 comes around. things go wrong, jack gets upset, he can't remember why, and he makes a storm - even after all this time he's still shite at controlling his winter magic: he gets a scar from bunny aswell as a flower - a snowdrop, ironically enough; his old namesake, 'fore he became jack frost instead of jack snowdrop - and bunny a scar and a few snowflakes from him when winter finally comes 'round again.

then 2012 comes around, and, well. there's no point TELLING the guardians that he used to be a spring sprite, not when they'd never believe him, bunny especially. he'd take it as an insult, probably. some kind of mockery, some slight against him and all his fellow spring seasonals (once jack's fellow spring seasonals, but not anymore, NEVER anymore) - after all, if no one else ever believed him when he tried to explain what'd happened, what MN had done to him, had changed him, they'd all just laughed.

(well, laughed and then hurt him, but that's besides the point).

but THEN bunny catches him trying - and failing - to make animated flowers using his frost; they melt as soon as their shape solidifies. mother nature'd changed him so much, jack thinks, a tad bitterly, that he can't even make anything vaguely spring-y with his own (new, strange, wrong) element.

"why can't'cha make those? ya made that frost-bunny for jamie jus' fine," asks bunny.

"yeah, well, why don't'cha ask miss mother nature that question and then get back to me in three-to-give business days," jack grumbles, not even making a paltry attempt to hide the bitterness, the borderline resentment in his voice for mother nature, for the one who changed him, the one who ruined him. resentment's a dangerous thing, jack knows, but he thinks he's allowed it, in this one case.

(he'd never resented the moon as much as he'd resented mother nature.)

bunnymund blinks, taken aback, ears flipping back to press against his furred neck. taps his foot against the ground, gently. he's still looking at jack, looking at his failing, melting, broken frostflowers, his one visible blue eye - jack'd always kept his other one hidden, 'least round him and all the other guardians. the one time bunny'd tried to ask, the frostbite'd gotten all defensive, and so bunnymund'd let it drop - dead and tired.

(jack didn't look back, even as he felt eyes on him, heard the sound of bunny's signature tunnel opening and then close, once again.)

and then bunny does just that.

[britcision]

SNACKS!

For all y’all freaking about the ghost marriage joke 😉

Also Jason is not pregnant there is no mpreg but this will absolutely not stop him from bursting into fake tears to fuck with Dick if Dick mentions his “parasite”

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Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part i

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep.

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

A little more emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

He may still want a pillow to scream into for a good six hours, but for him? Still a solid improvement. He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. He hadn’t missed anything.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

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[animentality]

I just wanna say that while I don't ship either of them myself, I respect that the ships that don't become canon, like Drarry and Zutara, will always have much more powerful and diverse communities than the ships that become canon.

You can't tell me that more people ship Harry and Ginny RIGHT NOW than Drarry, or that Zutara's fanbase is less active than Kataang's. I was in the tag an hour ago while on a megalomaniacal rant in discord, and literally most of it is Zutara things, and it's been like what. A decade? Still going strong off of scraps, huh? I admire it.

When a ship becomes canon, people celebrate in the moment and then move on. You get smatterings of people who re watch the series, and do some doodles here and there. But the ship dies with the fandom itself, because a canon ship is not even a ship, it's just part of the story. And it's not the most interesting part of the story most of the time, especially in a series as richly packed as atla. the romance isn't done that well, it's barely focused on. and that's fine, but it's not the thing atla fans really talk about to this day...

you don't see atla fans talking about how epic the kataang romance is. not really. that whole genocide is bad plot is far more interesting.

But when a ship is entirely nonsensical or only lightly hinted at, or maybe just entirely theoretical but intriguing narratively...

that ship can go on for years.

The lack of content is paradoxically what makes the fandom content even better.

Fans can do anything they want with an empty sandbox, and thus fans become creatives in their own right, constructing a canon that fits their own interests.

And that's far more intriguing to consider because of it.

A Kataanger can write about katara and aang getting married, but canon already did that. How interesting could that really be? the creators did that and it was whatever.

a Zutaran, meanwhile, is writing a whole new story and mythos based on the meager scraps they were fed a decade ago. They're totally re writing canon and reconstructing a narrative about opposing sides coming together in the form of their narrative representatives.

they're red blue shipping, fire and ice/water, sun and moon, enemies to lovers, the sunshine and the grump, bad boy x good girl, learning to forgive, redemption arc, theyre basically dispensing with canon and writing a psychopathic descent into their own psyche.

they're making entirely different stories because they were dissatisfied with an aspect of the one they got.

and frustration/need breeds creativity. it stirs the imagination.

if you were satisfied with your ship becoming canon, you celebrate and then you move on.

if your ship never got its chance...

well. you could spend a life time wondering what if.

and you're thinking well of course a durgetash crack shipper would feel this way... and you're right.

but I'll be here. I'll be here still thinking about durgetash long after the last Astarion x Tav shipper has gone.

it's the small things. it's the blank slate, the holes with potential. it's the little gaps in the concrete of canon, where the most twisted but entertaining weeds grow and can never be destroyed, not fully, not permanently.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

september 1, 2021 6:15 p.m. basil's restaurant

ten minutes ago

[ktmurphy86] i might be a few minutes late, but i'm almost there.

grant scrolls through the metric ton of messages piling up in his notifications until he reaches the very end, and with a lump in his throat, opens it to respond. or like it. or send a thumbs up like a cool cucumber.

baby steps, he tells himself. one task at a time. the responses to all the messages from family, friends, and former co-workers inquiring about his exam results will come later.

just meet your sister first and–

“you seem different.”

he nearly jumps out of his skin as kelly’s high-pitched voice supersedes his thoughts.

“hopefully in a good way,” grant replies, looking up as he slides his phone off the table and into his back pocket.

it’s been nearly a decade since their last encounter, and he’d still recognize her from a mile away.

kelly’s hair is dyed platinum blonde like always, but now it’s twice as long, and her natural brunette locks–peeking through at the root–are streaked through with shocks of silver. her ice blue eyes are just as piercing, only underlined with tiny wrinkles. she’s still thin, too, but rather rail thin; her sweater dress seems to wear her more than she wears it.

“yes, in a good way.” kelly pulls out the chair opposite him and sits down with her arms wrapped across her waist. the candle between them casts a strange yellow glow over her wiry features. “you look better, much healthier.”

“uh, thank you. you look great as well.”

she half-smiles. “it’s just hair dye and botox. i look old. i didn’t inherit the ageless ó súilleabháin genes, so i'm going grey very early like all the callahans. by the way, you weren’t waiting long, were you?”

“oh, no, no, not at all. i have my car, but i didn’t want to deal with traffic, so i took the subway, but then that also kind of took a while. i pretty much just got here.”

“okay, good.” kelly pauses for a moment, her lips pursed. “well. i thought about what i'd say to you the whole ride over here, and now it’s all gone.”

for a moment, they exchange no other words. they drown in the silence, staring into each other’s eyes and into the past.

she’s surprisingly warm, all things considered. the last time they’d been in the same room–

grant is distracted again from his thoughts, watching as a strange sadness falls across her face. she reaches up at the collar of her dress and tug at it like it’s choking her, and her eyes then drift away to stare at an indistinct point on the table between them.

“it’s weird to see you again,” she admits suddenly, her gaze still fixated far away from him, “i didn’t think you’d message me back a few months ago.”

“to be honest, i didn’t mean to. i replied by accident one night and then just decided to follow through with talking to you. and now i'm here. yeah. um, anyway, why’d you reach out to me?”

“i was on facebook a couple months ago, and one of those ‘look at what you posted this day years ago’ things came up. it was a picture aunt bridget tagged us all in. it was the whole family at one of your high school hockey games, i think your freshman year state championship game.” kelly shrugs. “i didn’t even know any of those pictures were still there. that was a real surprise, given i unfriended and blocked everyone i'm related to on there when i left home after high school.”

grant nods. “a picture of me probably very sweaty and gross with helmet hair made you want to reach out to me?”

“not quite. my kids were with me at the time. we were in an airport coming back from vacation, so they were bored and nosy. ‘is that you? who are all these people?’ i was then immediately caught in my lie; i'd been telling them their whole lives i had no family left, and their only extended family was their dad’s parents.”

“yikes. i'm sure that was awkward.”

“it was,” kelly says plainly, “my oldest kids weren’t happy with the news. they’ve been, um, a little jealous of their friends for having lots of cousins and big family events for the holidays, and it didn’t go over well when they figured out they do have a big family. besides, they rightfully did see it as a betrayal of their trust. if mom lied once, what else might mom be lying about? the tooth fairy? santa claus? the easter bunny? yes, those, too. sorry. also, if you didn’t already guess based on my new last name, i married jack, and…”

“i figured you married him. you’d already been together a really long time even when i last saw you. we all grew up together, and you guys were middle school and high school sweethearts and all.”

“he’s a good guy. as i was about to say, though, jack is very partial to you. he always liked you. he thought you were a sweet kid, and he won’t let me forget what happened between us. so, after the facebook incident, he encouraged me to contact you, if only for the kids’ sake. after living in a huge family, i don’t think it’s all that fantastic, but he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder being an only child, and he doesn’t want the kids to have no one besides his parents in their lives. don’t get me wrong; i will never ever get involved in callahan or ó súilleabháin bullshit again, but i will consider reconnecting with you and letting you meet the kids.”

grant bites into his lip as that nagging anxious lump returns to his throat. “well, why me? why bother getting involved with any of us again after everything? even if it is for your kids, what's your motivation?"

kelly outright ignores his question. “tell me what you’ve been up to for the last, what, eight years? nine years? i don’t remember how long it’s been. you're at least talking to our dad, i hear.”

"how do you know that?"

"my in-laws may not know anything else about you these days, but they've seen you with him around our hometown."

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 4-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 2,920 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Mentions of violence sort of, Mild sexually suggestive language.

A/n: I have a big work week ahead of me so I may not be able to get much done in terms of writing and especially in terms of art, but I am excited to write out more chapters. In this chapter there is pretty much just fluff so I wasn't sure of what to write for warnings (I'm so bad at knowing what should be a warning I'm so sorry). Enjoy this chapter and the art, leave a like or a comment, Re-blogs greatly appreciated!

User tags: @fan-goddess

Chapter 4

A month has passed since you moved to Fuller, Texas into a property left to you by a distant relative. You visited the Hewitt family at least two or three times a week and made close friends with Luda Mae; every now and then you would see Tommy, and Luda Mae would try to get him to talk to you but he would just freeze and avoid contact. Eventually he would be able to stay in the same area when you were there but never in the same room, he would just quietly watch from the doorway of the next room or outside. His avoidant and distant behavior did not help your budding feelings for him nor your desire to speak to him.

The other day, you were invited to dinner by Luda Mae and you offer to cook for them so you can bond over some good food. You spent most of the day repairing small bits of damage in the house, and making sure the pipes in the home had proper fittings. You took your time cooking large decadent dishes to impress the Hewitt's, mashed potatoes, fried asparagus, a hefty salad, and some finely glazed roast chicken with grilled corn. This food was the kind to make family out of friends and you were so excited to share it; the chocolate cake you baked the night before was ready to be frosted with your own recipe for vanilla icing.

Once the food was packed away in some bags, you got changed into a black summer dress that had a flower pattern in red, you put on a pair of red flats, some makeup, and a spritz of expensive perfume. The walk to the Hewitt house lasts only about ten minutes but the bags of food started to weigh you down and make you wish you had taken the car. When you reach the driveway, you have to set the bags down and take a rest. As you catch your breath and shake out your arms, you hear heavy foot steps coming towards you, when you look up you see Tommy, he looked different, he looked… good.

Despite still wearing the dark leather half-mask, you were actually able to see a lot of his face due to his hair being oiled back slick. His heaving chest was pressing against his black T-shirt that hugged his torso and really showed just how thick with muscle he was. He had new looking jean pants that clung to his thighs and a belt buckle that shone in the evening sky. His shoes were especially interesting, he had on a freshly shined pair of black snake skin cowboy boots tucked under his jean cuffs. You could not believe how well this massive recluse cleans up, and while he was still extremely intimidating, his fresh appearance was so overwhelming that you couldn’t speak.

He walks right up to you but doesn’t look you in the eye, he just takes your bags and stands behind you waiting for you to start walking to the door. His height was unlike anything you have ever seen, your head reached the base of his pecs. You were blushing so much, you could feel your cheeks flush with heat, you say to him,

“T-thank you”

He holds the heavy bags like they were nothing, his hands are huge and rough, his exposed arms were thick with muscle but riddled with scars that made you curious. He doesn’t say a word as you both walk up to the front door where he then opens it for you and waits for you to enter. Luda is already at the entrance wearing a pretty tea length dress in pastel blue, with yellow birds, her hair is in a pinned up-do, she greets you,

“Evenin’! I see Thomas helped you with your things, what a good boy he is”

You smile “Yeah, I’m glad he came to help honestly. I didn’t realize how tough it was going to be walking here with those bags being so heavy, I should have driven down haha”

Luda Mae takes your hand and leads you inside saying “Well come on in! Let’s get this stuff to the table so we can all eat, I’m sure you’re hungry”

You get to the table which is set nicely, the dishes seem to all be bone china with flowery designs along the outer edges, the large table is rustic and humble, but cozy. Luda Mae calls everyone to the table and tells you to sit at the end of the table, Charlie who is wearing a worn dress shirt that is too big for him and a red bowtie, attempts to sit next to you but Luda Mae snaps at him,

“NOT THERE CHARLIE, THAT’S TOMMYS SEAT!”

Charlie sighs and gets up; he looks at you,

“Oh, I see how it is” he gives you a wink.

Tommy comes in last and stands in the doorway, Luda Mae calls over to him,

“Come Thomas, you take your seat right next to Y/N”

He glances at you from under his brow and goes and sits in the chair next you making sure he is not touching you. He is such a big man that he is still towering over you even while sitting. Luda Mae takes her seat and says,

“Now then, let’s all say grace. Charlie, if you’ll do the honors”

Charlie rolls his eyes and starts “Dear lord, bless this here food, even though it ain’t like what were used to, bless it anyway”

Luda Mae scoffs adding “And bless Y/N for makin’ the effort to make us a lovely dinner tonight. Were eternally grateful for you bringin’ us Tilly, who bought them cows and chickens for us so we may absolve our sinful ways, amen”

You were feeling a bit confused at what she meant by ‘sinful ways’ but they all said amen so you just ignored it. The dinner started and everyone began to dig in to the dishes you prepared. Tommy waited until you took some food for yourself and then he started grabbing some scoops of the food to load onto his plate, Luda Mae sees this and says,

“Thomas is a big boy; he needs a lot of food to keep himself strong. I apologize if he seems greedy” she gave a serious look at Tommy who slowly put the mashed potato spoon down.

You feel a tinge of sadness at Luda Mae scolding Tommy, you reply,

“Oh no please, let’s eat as much as we can tonight so I don’t have to bring so much home. I made more than enough; I think”

Tommy glances at you, Luda Mae says “Well alright then Tommy, go ahead then, just make sure everyone else gets some”

Charlie laughs “Tommy boy eats more than the damn hogs do, I swear there’s nothin’ left when he’s near food, gotta eat quick!”

Luda Mae whacks Charlie’s shoulder for him to shut up but he just laughs, you giggle at the playful nature of this family and you feel comfortable around them, you feel a closeness to people that you hadn’t felt since the last time you saw your best friend. You can’t help but make quick glances at Tommy to be able to drink in his appearance for your memory to retrieve when you need it. You felt the nerves in your stomach tightening causing a slight cramp, you had a massive crush on Tommy and it was time to admit it to yourself. Tommy ate his food at a decent pace, each bite was small enough to fit through the slit in his mask; you still didn’t understand why he wore it but you were too afraid to ask in case it was something he was sensitive about.

Luda Mae see’s you watching Tommy and she smiles,

“We all made sure to look nice for you tonight, it’s a special occasion to have a guest cooking us dinner, right Charlie?”

He just nods and scarfs down the food on his plate, Luda Mae gives him a stern look but he doesn’t react, she continues,

“Thomas doesn’t have many clothes that fit him given that he’s such a big strong boy, but we were able to find some nice clothes in storage. What do you think Y/N? Does he look handsome?”

Tommy widens his eyes and looks over quickly at Luda Mae, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“I think he looks amazing” you blurted out without even thinking, you felt embarrassed for not saying something less abrupt, -Oh god they probably think I’m desperate or something, why didn’t I just say he looks nice!?- Luda Mae smiled even bigger and Tommy quickly looked back at you in shock that anyone other than his mother would say something positive about him, especially about how he looked. Luda Mae looks at you and gives a cheeky smirk saying,

“I know Thomas thinks you look very beautiful tonight, don’t you Thomas?”

Tommy looked at Luda Mae and then quickly looked back at you, he was so flustered and you noticed the top of his cheeks that weren’t hidden by the mask began to flush with a rosy pink. Luda Mae continued,

“Well Thomas? Don’t be rude to our guest, you tell her she looks nice!”

You felt bad for Tommy who was put on the spot by Luda Mae’s question, you wished so badly to hear the answer but Tommy just looked down at his plate with wide eyes and blushing cheeks. You smiled at the sight of such a large grown man reacting like an embarrassed teen, you could almost hear the squeal of protest ‘Mom! You’re embarrassing me!’. You giggled to yourself, this was the most fun you had had with people in ages, you were so lonely back in Rivers Manitoba that even the rare relationship you got into would fizzle out so quickly from them being abusive or losing interest. You felt safe with the Hewitts, even if the things Dover said to you were true about them, you didn’t care, you wanted to be part of a family, this family.

Eventually dinner finished and the cake was brought out by Luda Mae, she cut some large slices for everyone and when she took the first bite her eyes widened and she said,

“My, you’re an incredible cook Y/N. This is the best darn thing I have ever eaten since my mama’s banana cream pie”

Charlie took a bite and slammed the table, which startled you and made Tommy give him an angry look, he said,

“WHEW GIRLIE, THIS IS SINFUL!”

Tommy looked at his slice and took a small piece on his fork and bit into it, his eyes closed and he let out a deep breath through his nose as he leaned his head back allowing you to see just how thick his neck was. There was some stubble peeking through from under his mask and it made your heart flutter, this was a fully-grown, red-blooded man, and you had a flash of an intrusive thought fly through your mind of him leaning his head back from a different kind of pleasure; you shook your head and looked away, trying to suppress a smirk that was trying to creep its way onto your face. Luda Mae looks over at you and asks,

“Are you alright dear?”

You snap back into reality and reply “Yes, sorry I just got… dizzy, must be from all the good food”

Luda Mae is looking a bit concerned,

“Let me get you some more water sweetheart, maybe you are just hot”

You feel a sense of embarrassment at the passing thought you had, it was really unlike you to be so turned on by a man, but Tommy was no ordinary man and he was bringing out feelings in you that you never knew you had. Luda Mae comes back with some ice water and gently places a hand on your shoulder, and pours some water in the glass in front of you. This woman was so motherly to you, the month that went by just reinforced these feelings as every time you met up with her, she was always concerned with how you were doing and trying to get you to rest or talk about deep feelings, she was a large comfort to you.

The night finally concluded after so much laughter and conversation between you, Luda Mae, and Charlie. Tommy had gotten up after cake and left the table before the night was over which made you feel a bit anxious that he was uncomfortable but you had fun despite the anxiety. When you got your things and placed them back in the bags, you said goodnight to Charlie as Luda Mae walked you out saying,

“Don’t let Dover bug you anymore ok hun? He used to make Tilly so upset but eventually he left her alone once she got close with us, I reckon he will do the same with you once he realizes who you’re friendly with. If you feel scared walking back, have Thomas, take you, he is in the barn there”

You thank her and say goodbye, maybe getting Tommy to walk you back would be a good idea so Dover would stop popping out of bushes to tell you how stupid he thinks you are and how badly he wants you to leave. You make your way down to the barn and see Tommy sitting on a bale of hay staring out the open barn doors, the bright shine of the moon casting a silver light on him. You walk up to him and say,

“Hey, Thomas, would you please walk me back to my house? I don’t want to deal with Dover harassing me.”

You see him look over at you and he nods slowly, getting up and moving over to face you, his hand held out to signal you to give him your bags so he could carry them for you. He waited to let you walk in front of him but you didn’t move, you spoke,

“Can…I walk next to you?”

Tommy looked surprised but he nodded and followed next to you out of the barn, you both made your way to the road, he was making sure to keep your pace so he didn’t get ahead of you. The sky had thick dark clouds rolling through it but the moon held its bright glare, coating you both with a cold light, you looked up at Tommy who was remaining silent as he walked next to you, his brows were relaxed and his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead of him. You felt so safe with him, he was like a large guard dog, keeping watch of your surroundings and staying close to you, ensuring that he keeps his pace in line with yours.

You smile, the fact that you were alone with him was exciting, you wish you were able to say something but you couldn’t find the words. Just as you were giving thought to something to say, he looks down at you and catches you smiling at him. He looks at you confused, why would anyone smile at the likes of him? His whole life he was ridiculed and made fun of for his appearance, a girl never gave him even a glance and the ones he liked screamed when he came near them. You were different, you were beautiful and kind, and you smiled at him, no screaming or running away, he felt good being around you, he felt safe with you, but this was a different kind of safe to the one you felt, this was trust.

You both got to your driveway and he walked you up to the door, setting your bags down, you turned to him and said,

“I really appreciate you walking me to my home Thomas, you’re a really nice man”

Tommy’s eyes met yours and he nodded, you went to pick up your bags but stopped when you saw him pointing at you,

“Yes?”

He continues to point at you, you try to look around if there’s a stain or bug but he just goes and reaches for the dress fabric on your shoulder and points at that, you smile and reply,

“Oh, my dress! You never told me if you liked it”

He nods and gives a thumbs up, you laugh and thank him. You grab your bag and make your way inside, turning to give him one last look and say,

“Goodnight Thomas, I hope we get to spend more time together soon”

You gently shut the door and Tommy turns to leave, his cheeks are warm and his eyes wide; You, a beautiful woman, want to spend time with a monster like him? The things he has done in the past for his family were evil, his past was stained forever with the blood of the many victims taken by his hands. He tried to push down his budding feelings because he knew deep down that an innocent angel like you would never accept his sins. The walk back to his home was full of mixed emotions, he was scared to get closer to you in case you find out about his past and react like the girls from his past would, screaming at him in horror and fear. He couldn’t help but have hope though, you were after all, different.

Next chapter-

[wheezyseeker99]

To Be Alone With You

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, and sexual themes including oral (female receiving) and penetration (fm)

18+, MDNI

✨no summary, just vibe with it✨

If Jamie Drysdale wasn’t my best friend, I know as a fact that I wouldn’t be out in Philly with him after his win tonight. I had a long day at work. I would rather be bed rotting right about now, but I’m a supportive friend. I’ve known Jamie since him and my little brother went to the same hockey camp over a decade ago. The more they talked, the more gradually he started to become my little brother too.

Ever since I moved to Philly a couple years ago, I haven’t had much of a reason to get out. That was until Jamie got traded to the Flyers a few months ago. I don’t have many friends here so it’s nice to have the familiar face around. I started to go to his games, and he’s brought me along to some get togethers with some of his teammates. They started to become my friends too. Like tonight, I drove to the game in New York and then drove him and our friend Cam back to their practice arena to drop off their hockey gear. Now we’re at a bar in South Philly. I walked here from my row house a few blocks down and they carpooled in Jamie’s car. When I walked in, I immediately noticed Cam before I saw Jamie.

Cam York is what I call a perfect man, but he’s also Jamie’s teammate.

When I laid eyes on Cam for the first time, I think my brain short-circuited. It was when Jamie moved to town and he texted me the address he was staying at the time. Little did I know that it was Cam’s address. He answered the door and I almost went mute from how beautiful he was that first day. He’s at least 6 ft, pale skinned, and his red hair is his signature feature. I mostly like his eyes. They’re always the prettiest shade of blue. And I remember the way he laughed when I asked if I had the wrong address. I’m still surprised I even had the ability to stand.

Now that I’m a little more desensitized I can keep calm around him. Ever since Jamie came back from his shoulder injury that took him out for almost a month, he’s been looking for a major win on the ice. This win tonight was against one of the top teams in the league. And this is also the first time we’ve ever been out just the three of us. Usually it’s just us three hanging out at Cam’s or Jamie’s. And well, I guess it was the three of us until the ‘Jamie Drysdale fanclub’ showed up at the bar and dragged him to the dance floor. Cam and I stayed in the booth, watching Jamie be awkward in the group of girls.

I have had a solid 2 and a half drinks and 2 rounds of shots before I start giggling, and that’s how I know I’m getting drunk. The last time I got drunk I admitted to Jamie that Cam is the most attractive teammate he has, and now said teammate is sitting across from me. I realize I’m giggling and bite down on the inside of my cheek. Then I attempt to focus on people watching.

“You look like you’re having a good time.”

My eyes snap to Cam while he sips his drink. His bright eyes are staring a hole right through me. I pick up my glass and down the rest of my drink before I drag my eyes back to look at Jamie.

“I am. He looks like he’s about to throw up out there. It’s very entertaining for me.” I pick up my phone and try to stand. “I need to take a picture to send to my brother. He’d get a kick out of it too.”

I almost tumble to the ground when I stand and Cam is right behind me in an instant. His hands are on my hips, keeping me upright. The way his hands have a grip on me sends a tingle up my spine. I feel his hard body against my back.

“I’ll take a picture for you. Take a seat.”

I obey him and sit down. He takes the phone out of my hand, grazing his fingers against mine. I watch him as he takes a picture of Jamie. His back is turned to me, but I can tell that he’s smiling. I take a second to admire him. His tshirt is stretched over his shoulders and his jeans fit him just right. His baseball hat is placed backwards on his head. Every time I see him with a hat on, I want to toss it off and run my fingers through his hair and-

“You okay?”

He snaps me out of my dazed state. He’s smirking down at me as he lays my phone down on the table in front of me. He props an arm on the top of my booth and leans on it, studying me. I can feel my cheeks getting warmer by the second. He so caught me checking him out.

“Yes.” I choke out. “I’m good.”

He nods and bites his lip, looking back at the dance floor, but not before I notice how the low light in here hits his face so that I can see the little scar on his top lip. I’ve had dreams of that scar since I noticed it for the first time. I reach for my drink again but realized I finished it before I even tried to stand. I’m screwed.

“Do you want another?” He asks. I let out an involuntary giggle. I can feel his eyes on me again, but I try not to look at him as I grab my phone and purse.

“I think if I have another I’ll make some stupid fucking decision. I’m already giggling which is a bad sign. I probably need to walk home before I end up doing something bad.”

He takes my phone and purse out of my hands and sits them back down before I could try to stand again. I look at his face and his expression has changed. He looks more serious, kind of like how he looks on the ice. I bring my hand up to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows and I start giggling again.

“I think we need to sober you up before you walk out that door babe.”

“What the fuck is going to sober me up Cameron?” I whine. “It’s not like I’m going a billion blocks down the road. I don’t live far.”

He grabs my hand and helps me stand. “Let’s try to dance a little so we can see how long you stay on your feet.”

Cam leads me to the dance floor. He takes my hand and spins me into him.

My back is to his front while we sway to the music.

The song changes and I lean back into him instantly, stretching an arm to reach the back of his neck. His scent is as intoxicating as the drinks I’ve had tonight. I get so lost in the movement that I don’t realize I’m grinding my ass against him until his hands gripped my hips. I feel his breath on my neck.

“Fuck. Slow down.”

His voice sounds strangled. I turn around to face him. His eyes bore into mine, then they looked down at my lips.

“I really want to kiss you right now Cam.”

Shit. I surprised myself with that one. I slap a hand to my mouth and turn around to walk back to the table. His hand stops me as he turns me to face him again.

Cam brings my hand up to his lips and presses a kiss on my knuckles. “I’ve been wanting you to say that for months.”

I’m stunned to say the least. Even though he’s the most attractive man on the planet, I never thought he’d find me attractive. I’m not usually the type men like him could ever go for. I’m not a skinny girl. I have a stomach and an ass. I probably weigh the same weight as Cam, except his is all pure muscle and I’m just a bigger body. He takes a step closer to me. The way he’s looking at me is sending me into an internal spiral.

“Where’s your brain at baby?”

“Why me?” There’s no way he’s for real right now. I can feel myself start to sober up only slightly. His eyes look at me with what looks like adoration.

“You’re beautiful and you’re kind. I find myself thinking about how genuine and real you are when you’re not around. I feel a real connection to you. And like, you don’t treat me like I’m only a hockey player for the nhl. That’s rare.” He cups my cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now. Jamie will probably hate me for it, but I do.”

I nearly flutter my eyes closed at the contact. “Jamie doesn’t have to know.”

Cam arches a brow at me and he brings his face closer to mine. “He’s ten feet away and I’m pretty sure he saw the away we danced.”

“It wouldn’t kill him to let me have this.”

“I’m starting to agree.”

I let my eyes flutter shut when his lips meet mine. I can feel his smile against my lips. When he goes to pull away, I deepen the kiss. He kisses back with urgency. His arm wraps around my back, tugging me impossibly closer to him. I get lost in him.

My heart is beating out of my chest when I pull my lips from his. He brings his mouth to my ear.

“I’ll tell Jamie I’m taking you home, okay?”

I nod my head and go to pick up my phone and purse. By the time I send the picture to my brother, Cam is back at the table. He takes my hand and we walk out of the bar onto the chilly streets of Philly. My body feels flushed against the wind. My leggings and long sleeved flyers crop top aren’t doing much to save me from the cold. I’m not even feeling cold though. I can’t help but think that I’m about to be alone with him. In my home. I look up at Cam as we reach a street corner.

“What’s going to happen when we get to my place?”

“Whatever you want. I’m not expecting anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So if I asked you to stay the night what would the response be?”

Cam stops walking for a moment, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll be honest. I want to.” He slides his hand down my back to rest on my ass and lets out a breath. “I really fucking want to.”

“Good.”

We continue walking until we get to the door of my row house. I fumble with the keys and unlock the door, letting us inside. Cam is looking around my living room. I drop my purse on the couch to get his attention.

“I expected you to be kissing me against the wall by now.” I laugh.

The look of longing flashes across his face. He takes a step closer. I back myself against the wall and he places his body against mine. I’m already consumed by him by just being in his proximity.

“Tell me what I have permission to do.”

“Anything Cameron.” I beg. “Please.”

He presses his lips to my neck, leaving soft kisses. He bites down on a spot close to my ear. My knees almost buckle at the feeling. He pulls away and takes my hands.

“You trust me?”

“I do.”

“Take me to your room.”

I lead him up the stairs to my room. I can tell I’m sobering up more and more every step I take. I’m starting to panic slightly. I don’t want Cam to be just a one night thing. What if that’s what he wants? I bite my lip and turn around when we reach my bedroom door.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head. Like am I doing something wrong?”

“No it’s just- I don’t want this to be a one night thing.” I shake my head and look down. He grabs my chin and lifts it so that my eyes meet his determined gaze.

“You thought this was going to be a one time thing?” He asks. “Let me clarify. I want you. For as long as you’ll have me. Anything else I need to clarify before I open this door?”

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“Hell yeah.” Cam’s self control snaps. I’m against my bedroom door and his hands come to my thighs, wrapping them around his hips. I whine in protest against his lips as they meet mine. He pushes open my door and sits me down onto my bed, lifting off his shirt and throwing it across the room. I savored the way his chiseled body looks while I could. His silver cross necklace sits deliciously right against his sternum.

He didn’t miss a beat before his lips attacked mine again. I can feel the scar against my lips. This is heaven. I could kiss him forever. And I think he has the same idea. He barely took his lips off of mine to remove my shirt. I whimper at his taste while my hands go to his pants.

There’s no way we’re stopping now.

By the time I undo the button on his pants, his lips break from mine. I can see his glazed over expression. It doesn’t take him long to push my back to the bed and tug off my leggings. His hands stroke my thighs. He mumbles something under his breath before he leans down to press his lips to the skin of my stomach right above my underwear. His eyes pierce into mine.

“Ready for me?”

I nod my head. He shakes his head back at me. ���I need you to use your words baby.”

“Yes Cameron.”

He smirks up at me as he presses another kiss on my skin. “Good girl.”

He takes his time removing my underwear, placing my legs over his shoulders before he sucks my clit into his mouth. His scruff is scratching against my inner thighs. He moans against me and I see stars. I reach a hand down and toss off his hat, tugging on his hair in the process. Sharp pleasure courses through me when he presses two fingers into me. I feel closer and closer to release.

“Cam.” It comes out in a desperate plea. His mouth comes off of me and his thumb rubs circles on my clit. His fingers jack into me at an impossible speed. I let my head fall back and my eyes fall closed.

“Holy fuck I like that.” He moans against me. “Do it again.”

His hook against a spot inside me that makes my vision blur and I moan out his name again. His tongue swirls against my clit and my body tenses. The sensation is so overwhelming that I’m squirming. His arms come around my thighs to hold me still. I clutch his hair as he coaxes me through the most mind blowing orgasm I’ve ever had.

I lay there, breathing hard. Cam’s lips come back up my body and meet mine. While he kisses me I reach down and slide my hand into his boxers. His jeans are still partially on his hips and they slide down further when I wrap my hand around his hard length. His hand catches my wrist as he pulls his head away and groans into my cleavage.

“Next time baby. I won’t last.”

He pulls out a condom and places it on the bed before his hands fumble with the clasp on my bra, removing it along with his jeans and underwear. His cock springs free from its confinements, and my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. The look on his face tells me that he knows he has a weapon attached to his body. Cocky motherfucker knows what he’s doing. I bring my hands up my body to massage my breasts. I hear a frustrated growl come out of him as he lowers his mouth to latch onto my nipple.

He’s so good at this, it’s not even funny. I rock my hips up into his to get some friction and he growls again, taking my other nipple into his mouth. His facial hair is so scruffy that it’s making my skin sensitive. I can still feel the burn between my thighs. I take the condom out of the packet and put it on him.

“I don’t need more foreplay Cam, please get inside me.” I’m begging wholeheartedly at this point. I feel like I might die if he doesn’t fuck me soon. He leans down and bites my bottom lip, gazing into my eyes.

“Is that right?” He smirks.

I roll over and straddle his hips, slowly sliding down onto him. My arms drape over Cam’s shoulders as I moan at how full I feel with him inside me.

“You’re so big.”

Both of his hands take ahold of my ass, smacking and then gripping it. “You’re fucking tight.” He groans and grabs my neck, applying pressure. I whimper at the contact. “I’m going to ruin you for any future guys that might try to take you from me.”

After a moment, I’m grinding into him like my life depends on it. My fingernails scratch down his back and my head falls onto his shoulder, kissing my way down his neck. I scream out when he thrusts up into me.

My body is overfilled with pleasure that I bottom out. Cam flips us over so I’m on my back and he thrusts into me roughly.

I feel like he owns my body. I look at his body and the way it moves against mine. He looks as delicious as he feels inside me. His hand comes back to my neck, applying enough pressure for me to see stars. I clench onto him as he pounds me into oblivion. I call out his name when I reach my peak. We ride out our orgasms together. I connect my lips to his and I feel him empty himself into the condom with a loud groan.

When I drop back to earth, I’m still kissing the most beautiful man to ever exist. He pulls away and I’m still gasping for air. He takes off the condom and tosses it into the trash bin next to my bed before lying down, pulling me back into him to cuddle. My back against his front. He moves my hair away from my shoulder and places a kiss on it.

“I have an off day tomorrow. I don’t know if you have plans but- I mean, I want to take you out if that’s okay,” he mumbles against my skin.

I turn around and peck his lips. “I didn’t climb into bed with you for nothing. I’ll make breakfast in the morning if you take me out tomorrow. Deal?”

He smiles and kisses me again. “Deal. Best girlfriend ever.”

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Emily moves in, Dieter gets the flu … and Valentine’s Day Dieter Bravo style.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 5600+

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

Things moved quickly once we got back to California. With the help of a moving company (and Oladele) I was soon out of my condo and living in Dieter’s house. I also bought a new car. Dieter had insisted I “just look” at the Audis and I fell in love with a little blue sedan. It was at the lower end of the range, but still expensive to me. Writing out a check for roughly $40,000 was a surreal experience. 

Dieter insisted the car needed a name and that it was a boy. “Auden? Austin? Augustus?,” he suggested.

”Augustus? What kind of name is that for a car?”

”Well, there aren’t that many names that start with A-U,” he said, furrowing his brow. He pulled out his phone. “Auggie? 

”That’s just short for Augustus,” I pointed out. “And we can’t call an Audi Austin because that’s another make of car.”

”Then it has to be Auden,” Dieter said. “He was a poet, wasn’t he? That’s good for a bookish person, right?”

And so Auden it was. 

**********************************************

Soon it was February and Sam’s birthday was coming up. We always called each other on our birthdays, setting aside an hour just for us. One year she’d even walked away from her own birthday party to sit outside on her porch in the cold so we could have our birthday chat.

”Why don’t you fly back there and surprise her?” Dieter suggested. “Call her from the sidewalk and when she answers, tell her to come outside.”

”I can’t just fly to Maryland on a whim,” I said. Dieter raised an eyebrow and I realized that I could do that. I could go online and book a flight and hotel and not have to worry about where the money was coming from. It felt decadent. It felt wrong. It felt amazing.

”Do it,” he urged. “Let me be the one sitting home alone for once.”

I flew to Maryland and did just what Dieter suggested: I stood outside of Sam’s house and called her. When she opened the front door and saw me, we both burst into tears. It had been years since we’d seen each other in person.

”Oh, my God, chickie!,” she sobbed. “This is the best birthday present ever!”

We spend the weekend on her couch, eating chips and ice cream, watching old movies and basically just being teenage girls; all the stuff we missed out on doing together when she’d moved away.

”So you’re getting married,” Sam said at one point. She took my hand and made a show of studying my ring from several angles. 

“It still doesn’t quite seem real,” I admitted. “I’ve barely moved in and honestly I still feel like I’m just on a break and I’ll have to go home and back to work.”

”Any wedding plans yet?” There was a glint in her eye that made me feel excited.

”Nothing firm. Why, do you have an idea?”

”Remember when we were little and we did that whole soap opera with our Barbies and Kens and my brother’s G.I. Joes? And your Barbie got married at the beach and then her husband got eaten by sharks?”

I hadn’t thought about that summer in years. We’d played out so many silly plot lines with our dolls and action figures. Every day we created a new episode. Of course, our soap opera leaned more heavily on car chases and jumping off cliffs and fighting wild tigers than romance, but we were only about eight years old at the time. 

“I’m not feeding Dieter to a shark,” I said.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Duh! I meant, how about a beach wedding? You live in L.A., you said you want a summer wedding so Dieter’s brother and his kids can come out … my kids will be off for the summer.”

”You’re just fishing for an invitation,” I teased. 

“Oh, I’m going to be there,” Sam said firmly. “I’m going to be your maid of honor.”

I felt tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t afford to fly back east for Sam’s wedding, but she’d still asked me to be her maid of honor, only giving the job to one of her cousins after I’d had to decline. 

“I’d love to have you at the wedding,” I said. “It won’t be big or fancy. Dieter and I haven’t talked details yet but we both want something small and informal.”

”Which is perfect for a beach wedding,” Sam said. “I can totally see Dieter in a white suit, barefoot, open neck shirt, and you in a white sundress, the ocean breeze playing with your hair.”

“Or maybe Deet in board shorts and a PacSun t shirt.”

”You could wear a bikini and freak out your Aunt Helen!”

”Speedos!”

We collapsed into giggles. “I’ve missed you, chickie,” I said.

”I’ve missed you, too,” Sam said. “But just think, now you’ll be able to come visit whenever you want. And I’ll have a place to stay in California.” She winked.

**************************************************

That winter, I’d managed to avoid catching the flu, which was an occupational hazard of working in a public school. Dieter, unfortunately, was not as lucky, as I found when I called him from the airport when I landed.

“I’b fide,” he said over FaceTime, before turning away to blow his nose loudly.  He’d clearly been doing that a lot, because his nose was red and tender looking. 

“You are not fine,” I retorted. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

”I didin stard feeling sick undil after you lefd. Bud id’s nod dad bad.” He immediately sneezed and coughed at the same time.

”Go to bed,” I said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

On the way home from LAX, I stopped at a Walgreens and stocked up on everything I thought Dieter might possibly need. When I finally got home. I let myself in and dropped my bags on the kitchen island. “Hey, sweetie, are you awake?” I called out.

I turned around when I heard a noise coming from the hallway. Dieter shuffled into the dining room, his ratty green bathrobe wrapped around a dirty t-shirt and pajama pants, with an assortment of used tissues falling out of the pockets. His hair was even more wild than usual, and looked greasy. His nose was red and raw, he clearly hadn’t shaved since I’d left home and his eyes were glassy.

“Hey,” he croaked, leaning against the wall.

“You look horrible,” I said.

“Thangs,” he grumped. “I feel lige shid.”

I walked over to him and laid my hand on his forehead. He felt hot and smelled gross. “Ugh, when was the last time you showered?” I asked. “Or changed your clothes.”

He shrugged. “Coupla days ago,” he mumbled.

I shook my head. “Disgusting.” I turned him around and pushed him back toward the bedroom. The bed looked as bad as he did. The covers were all shoved into a tangled pile in the center of the bed and there was an overflowing trash can surrounded by a scattered ring of tissues.

“Okay, we’re getting you and this room cleaned up,” I said. I plopped him down on the bed and opened the dresser to pull out a clean t-shirt and pair of pajama pants. I popped into the hall to grab some towels and a washcloth from the linen closet and then came back to find Dieter on his side, groaning into the pillow.

“Get up, babe,” I told him. “You need a shower.”

“Don’d wan’ a shower,” he grumbled. 

“Tough,” I said. “You stink. Come on, I’ll help you.”

I pulled him up and led him to the bathroom, where I turned on the water to warm up. I knew he really did feel horrible, because as I stripped off his clothes, he didn’t make any jokes or try anything cute. He seemed a bit wobbly, so I got undressed as well and we stepped into the shower together. 

“Lean against the wall if you feel dizzy or weak,” I told him. I adjusted the shower head so the water wasn’t hitting him in the face, and helped him step under the spray.

“Cold,” he complained. 

“It’ll warm up in a minute,” I said. “Come on, let’s get you clean.” I worked quickly, soaping up the washcloth and scrubbing his body thoroughly. “Bend down,” I told him when I was done, and I shampooed and rinsed his hair.

I helped him get out and wrapped him in towels. “Dry off and we’ll get you in clean jammies,” I said. He rolled his eyes at the word “jammies” but he did as he was told. I helped him into the clean shirt and flannel pants, put my clothes back on, and then led him out to the living room.

“I’m going to park you on the couch while I change the bed, okay?” I tucked some throw pillows behind his back and spread one of the throws that lived on the back of the couch over his lap. I put the remote in his hand and smoothed his wet hair back off his forehead so I could give him a kiss.

I stripped the bed and carried the dirty linens to the laundry room, then went back and remade the bed with clean sheets, blankets, pillowcases and the summer duvet that was tucked in the very back of the linen closet. When I was done, I threw the winter comforter into the washer and went back to check on Dieter.

He was staring dully at the TV, which was tuned to a cooking program, something he normally didn’t watch. “You want to stay out here, or go back to bed?” I asked. He turned slowly to me and blinked twice.

“Bed,” he said after a moment.

I walked him back to the bedroom, tucked him in, piled pillows behind him so he was partially propped up and then went to fetch my supplies from Walgreens. I couldn’t remember what we had in the medicine chest so I had bought everything: a thermometer, assorted medications, tissues, cough drops … even a couple of cans of chicken soup and a box of saltine crackers.

First, I took his temperature. “One hundred point two,” I said. “Not too bad.” I dropped the Tylenol back into the bag. We wouldn’t be needing that unless his fever spiked higher. Then I asked him about his symptoms.

“Congestion … definitely,” I said. “Is your throat sore?”

“Kind of scratchy,” he admitted. 

“But not sore sore?”

“No.”

“How about coughing?”

We ran through every symptom I could think of and I lined up the medications and other supplies I’d need on the nightstand on his side of the bed. 

“Okay,” I said when I was done. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” I said firmly. “I’m going to make you some soup.”

“I’m not hungry,” he whined.

“Tough,” I replied. “You’re going to eat.”

I heated up a can of chicken noodle soup and boiled some water for tea. By the time I brought it into the bedroom, Dieter was half asleep.

“Dinner time,” I said brightly.

He shook his head and flipped me off. “Told you I’m not hungry,” he grumped.

“I don’t care. At least drink the broth and the tea. I put in honey and lemon for your throat,” I said as I sat down beside him. “And if you won’t eat it yourself, I’ll feed you.”

I got him to eat half the soup and most of a cup of tea before I gave up. I made him take his medication and then went out to the kitchen. I dumped the leftovers and put the dishes in the sink to be washed later. I checked on the washer and since it still had over twenty minutes left, I reheated the rest of the soup for myself. By the time I’d finished eating and washed up the dirty dishes, it was time to load the comforter in the dryer.

I had an hour to kill before it was done, so I went back to check on Dieter. He was asleep, so I very quietly changed into my nightshirt and curled up on the couch to watch some TV while I waited for the dryer to finish. Two episodes of “The Big Bang Theory” later, I fetched the toasty warm comforter from the laundry room and headed to the bedroom.

I pulled the summer duvet off the bed and threw the warm comforter over Dieter. He woke up. “Whad you doin’?,” he mumbled.

I crawled under the covers. “Nice warm blankie,” I said, snuggling down. “Go back to sleep.”

He grunted and coughed, then reached for the box of tissues I’d left on his nightstand. He blew his nose loudly and slumped back onto the pillows with a groan. “You should sleep in the guest roob,” he said. “You’ll ged sick.”

I kicked him gently. “Like I haven’t already been around your germs all evening,” I replied. “Besides, this way I’m here if you need anything.”  I curled up, enjoying the warmth of the freshly laundered comforter. Despite Dieter’s coughs and sniffles, I fell asleep pretty quickly. It had been a long day.

***************************

I woke up at 3:00 am when Dieter had a coughing fit. “Sorry, sorry,” he said in between hacking coughs. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I measured out a dose of cough syrup and fetched him a glass of ice water to wash it down with. “Take this.”  He made a face but swallowed the medicine. I didn’t blame him; that stuff tasted nasty. Cherry flavor my ass.

“Come here,” I said, after he’d drunk half the glass of water to get the taste out of his mouth. I opened a jar of Vicks VapoRub and pushed his t-shirt up. “This will help.” I started rubbing the greasy ointment in small circles over his chest. I suppressed the urge to sing “Soft Kitty,” knowing that Dieter would not understand. He’d watched “The Big Bang Theory” with me a few times but claimed he didn't get it.

Once I’d coated his chest, I pulled the shirt back down and started rubbing Vicks on his throat. “I know it smells horrible, but it works,” I said as he blinked from the pungent fumes. I chuckled. “Just be glad my friend Carla’s mom isn’t around. When I had sleepovers at her house when I was little, she rubbed Vicks on our feet and made us wear white socks to bed. Even if we weren’t sick.”

I put the lid back on the jar and smeared the leftover ointment on his stomach, just to be a jerk. He grumped at me and I pressed a kiss on his belly, just below where I’d rubbed the Vicks. 

“Not in the mood,” he grumbled. 

I pretended to pout. “You’re no fun,” I said. I put the jar of Vicks back on the nightstand, leaning across him to reach it. I knew that in that position, he could see right down my sleep shirt, and it was riding up at the bottom to show off my panties but he didn’t react at all.  “You really are sick,” I said, patting his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

He just grunted and then coughed in my face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, as I crawled back over to my side of the bed. “I know this isn’t fun for you.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” I told him. “I’m here to take care of you. Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

**************************************************

The next day I spent most of my time running back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom. He wanted coffee but then it made his stomach hurt. He wanted toast but then only ate half of it. I made him tea with honey but it got cold too fast, and when I heated it in the microwave it was too hot and burned his tongue. Every time he took a dose of medicine, he needed fresh ice water. 

For lunch, I suggested grilled cheese, my go-to meal when I was feeling sick as a kid. He took two bites. It was like taking care of a nearly six foot toddler. 

“You have to eat, sweetie,” I told him. “All that medicine on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not fucking hungry,” he growled. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” I said. I took the remains of his lunch out to the kitchen, cut off the part he’d bitten and finished the sandwich myself. I knew he didn’t feel well, but it was starting to wear on me. I pulled out my phone and texted Sam.

ME: Dieter is driving me crazy. Why are men such babies when they’re sick?

She replied quickly with a series of laughing emojis.

We commiserated about the tribulations of taking care of a man-child until I heard a pathetic voice calling my name from the bedroom. I took the phone with me as I went to see what he wanted.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Can I have that sandwich now?”

I texted Sam as I went back out to the kitchen to make a fresh grilled cheese.

ME: Can I divorce someone I’m not married to yet?

Her only reply was another string of laughing emojis.

**************************************************

The next morning, Dieter still had a low grade fever and his cough was no better. “I think we need to go to urgent care,” I told him.

“I’m fine,” he whined. “I hate the doctor.”

“But I don’t think this cough syrup is strong enough,” I replied. “You might need the prescription stuff. Get dressed.”

He grumped and complained but changed into jeans and a clean t-shirt while I called the closest urgent care that took his insurance. They wouldn’t make an appointment but claimed the wait time was currently less than an hour. “Is your phone charged? We might have a bit of a wait,” I asked.

It took twenty minutes to find his phone, which had slipped down between the couch cushions at some point. The battery was at 45%, so I had to fetch the car charger from his car before we could leave. Fortunately, it took long enough to get to the urgent care that his phone was up to 70% by the time we were parked. I knew he’d get bored sitting in the waiting room if he didn’t have his phone to play with. It really is like taking care of a giant toddler, I thought. 

The waiting room was three quarters full and when we checked in, the receptionist told me in a bored voice that it would probably be close to ninety minutes before we could see a doctor. “We had a couple of soccer injuries come in and they got jumped to the head of the line,” she explained. “Fill out the forms and have a seat.”

*****************************************

“Mr. Bravo?,” a nurse finally called out. I nudged Dieter, who had started to doze off.

“What?”

“It’s your turn. Come on,” I said.

We followed the nurse into the back. She kept giving him curious looks as she sat him down at her station to start taking his vitals. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “It’s just …”

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s used to being stared at.”

Dieter started to say something smart but veered into another coughing fit.

The nurse nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t try to talk.” She handed him some tissues and went back to laying out her instruments. She took his temperature, blood pressure and checked his blood oxygen levels.

“Slight fever, and the coughing has the blood pressure up a bit, but ox levels are good,” the nurse said as she jotted things down on a form. “Okay, let’s put you in a room and the doctor will be with you soon.”

She led us into an examination room. Dieter slumped on the exam table, the paper crinkling and crunching underneath him. I settled in an uncomfortable chair and we waited. And waited.

“This is ridiculous,” Dieter said after we’d been in the exam room for nearly twenty minutes. “We’re wasting our time.”

“No we’re not,” I said.  “Just be patient.” I chuckled. “Get it, you’re a patient … so you need to be patient.”

He just shook his head and flipped me off. So much for making him laugh. 

The doctor finally came in, a flustered looking young Indian woman. “So sorry for the wait,” she said. “I’m Dr. Pradesh. We’re short staffed today because of this flu.” She looked at the file in her hand. “Which you appear to have, Mr. Bravo.” She smiled apologetically.

She quickly examined Dieter, looking in his ears, up his nose, and listening to his heart and lungs. “Okay,” she said when she was done. “Lungs are definitely congested but I don’t hear anything too concerning.” She pulled out a prescription pad. “I’m going to get you some cough syrup with codeine, which should help. It’s stronger than the over the counter stuff you’ve been taking. And an inhaler to open up the bronchial passages.” She turned to me.

“I take it you’re looking after him,” she said. I nodded. “Rest, lots of fluids, make sure he takes his meds,” she said, ticking each item off on her fingers. “This virus usually runs its course in about two weeks, but the first week is the worst. He should start feeling better in a few days.”

She handed me the prescription form and smiled at Dieter. “I hope you feel better, Mr. Bravo,” she said. “If your symptoms get worse, call us or your primary doctor.” She shook his hand, then mine, and was gone.

The nurse popped in a moment later with some paperwork in her hand. “Okay, you’re ready to go.” She hesitated a moment. “Um, I know you aren’t feeling well, but … do you think I could get an autograph?”

Dieter sighed, but smiled and took the pen she shyly offered. He scribbled his signature on a scrap of paper and we were on our way.

“Sorry,” I said as we buckled ourselves into the car. 

“For what?”

“You feel like crap and still got accosted by a fan,” I said.

He shrugged. “She was very polite about it. I wouldn’t call it being accosted.”

“Still,” I said, as I backed the car out of the parking space. “I know it’s annoying.”

“Not your fault,” he said, before starting to cough violently again. 

We stopped at CVS on the way home. “You can wait in the car if you don’t feel like going in,” I told him and after a moment he nodded.

“If you don’t mind,” he said. He looked exhausted. I kissed him on the forehead and held out my hand for his wallet.

Fortunately the pharmacy had no line and I got his prescriptions after a short wait. Still, Dieter was asleep by the time I got back to the car. He was slumped in the passenger seat, his mouth hanging slightly open. I felt a sudden surge of love for him. Despite the way he’d been driving me crazy, I knew it was the virus that made him so grumpy and needy. All I wanted was for him to feel better.

I got into the car as quietly as I could, but he still woke up. “I’m awake,” he mumbled as he sat up straighter. 

“You’re fine, babe,” I told him, placing the pharmacy bag on his lap. “Now let’s get you home.”

*****************************

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the guest room?” Dieter asked after I’d gotten him home, back in pajamas, into bed, fed, and medicated.

“Why? Are you sick of me already? Get it? Sick.” I asked. I hopped onto the bed next to him.

“Fuck off,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m not going anywhere” I told him. “Got to take care of you, sweetie.” I kissed him on the cheek. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid,” he grumped, but I could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He liked the idea of me taking care of him.

“You’re acting like one,” I retorted. “Everyone does, when they’re sick. And what does a sick kid want most? To be taken care of.” I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”

“I love you,” he mumbled into my hair.

“I love you, too,” I replied. “But please don’t get snot in my hair.”

He started laughing, which turned into another coughing fit. I patted his back and handed him a cough drop from my pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said when he stopped coughing. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“It’s my job,” I said. He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s in the fiancé job description. Section fourteen, paragraph five. ‘Take care of him when he’s sick, even if he acts like a giant baby.’”

“Very funny,” he said. “Now, what does it say in that job description about doing my laundry?”

I sighed. It was going to be a long week. 

**************************************************

“How the hell is it already February 18th?” Dieter was feeling better and was catching up on emails. 

“Well, first it was February 1st, and then days went by …”

He gave me the stink-eye. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said. “I missed Valentine’s Day. I had stuff planned and everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “Valentine’s Day is a very overrated holiday, anyway. To be honest, it was nice not to be surrounded by teenagers carrying around balloons and stuffed animals and all that stupid shit.”

“But it was our first Valentine’s Day together, and I missed it,” Dieter said. “That doesn’t bode well.” He frowned. 

“I don’t need chocolates or flowers or any of that stuff,” I reassured him. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. And we can do something special next year, if you want.” I was going through my own emails, which included several from Oladele offering suggestions for wedding venues. Without me even realizing it, she had been hired as my personal assistant and I already didn’t know what I would do without her. “Hey, speaking of flowers, do you think we need some for the wedding?” Oladele had gotten some quotes from florists.

“What? That’s months away,” Dieter said.

”June is only four months away and it’ll be here before we know it,” I replied. “We really need to sit down and go over things. Like where, when, and who’s invited. And flowers, food, cake …” I sighed. “Even for a low key wedding, there’s a lot to think about.”

Dieter waved his hand in the air. “Get some roses, a cake with white frosting, a few bottles of champagne and sparkling cider … boom! A wedding.”

”You’re no help.”

”My head’s still full of mucus and shit,” he said. “Give me a couple of days and then we’ll sit down and go over stuff.” I could tell he was getting tired and grumpy and I cut him some slack. I knew from experience that the flu took a lot out of you.

**************************************************

Two days later, I went grocery shopping. Dieter’s appetite had come back and we were completely out of snacks. When I got home, I opened the front door to the scent of roses. “What the hell? Dieter, can I get some help with the groceries?”

There was no reply and I stepped further in. There were bouquets of roses all over the living room, dozens and dozens of roses: red, white, pink, and silver, in glass vases tied with ribbons. A large heart shaped box of chocolates was in the center of the coffee table, next to a teddy bear holding a red velvet heart that read “I ❤️U.”

”Dieter!” I yelled. “Where are you and why did a drug store Valentine’s aisle throw up in our living room?”

He appeared in the doorway, wearing a red satin robe over black silk pajamas. “I told you I had plans,” he said, batting his eyelashes at me.

”Well, can we get the groceries in and put away first?”

He sighed and stumbled off to find his Crocs. “You have no sense of romance,” he grumped.

Once we’d fetched the food and put everything away, I let Dieter lead me back to the living room. “Have a seat, my sweet,” he said, with a deep bow. He pulled a fancy box from underneath the couch and placed it in my lap. I untied the red velvet ribbon and opened the box to reveal a lacy black silk nightgown and red satin robe that matched his. “You go change into that,” he said, “and I’ll get the rest of your surprise ready.”

I normally preferred cotton night clothes but the feel of the silk and satin against my skin was sensual. Not exactly something I’d want to wear all night, but it definitely set the stage for sexy times. So I was truly surprised when I went back into the living room and found Dieter with his glasses on and a notebook in his hand.

”What’s going on?”

”I am about to do the most romantic thing any man has ever done,” he said dramatically. He picked up the remote. “I’m going to turn off the television and give you my undivided attention and we are going to plan our wedding.” He nodded toward the coffee table, where both of our iPads were turned on and nestled amongst a selection of brochures. “Oladele sent me all her stuff.”

I sank onto the couch. “You never cease to amaze me, Dieter Fucking Bravo.” 

“We’ll get to that part later,” he said with a wink. “Right now, let’s plan a wedding.”

Two hours — and a bag of chips and several of the chocolates from the fancy box — later, we had a rough plan. A secular ceremony on the beach, small reception with finger foods and cake, not too many flowers (because of the wind off the ocean). Freddy would be his best man and Sam would be my maid of honor. We even narrowed it down to three venues: a public beach that had an area that could be reserved for private functions, a private beach that could be rented for a hefty fee but included catering, and the backyard of a producer friend of Dieter’s, which backed onto a private beach.

”Okay, so guest list,” I said, scanning the checklist that Oladele had sent us. “Freddy, Leila and the kids, that’s four. And Sam, her husband and kids, that’s another five, so we’re up to nine.”

”Dominic and his family,” Dieter said. “That brings us to thirteen. Oh, and Oladele. That’s fourteen.”

”Carmen,” I said. “That’s fifteen.”

Dieter named a few other people from “the business” which brought our total up to twenty three. “How about your family? Just your aunt and uncle or do we have to invite all the cousins, too?”

”Just Aunt Helen and Uncle Jeremiah,” I said. “We’ll put them up at a fancy hotel, just to make her squirm a little.” I laughed. “Actually, I think she’ll enjoy it. I don’t think they’ve had a real vacation, just the two of them, in forever.”

Dieter nodded. “That’s twenty five. That’s a good number, unless you want to invite anyone from your old job?”

”Don’t forget your dad,” I added. “That makes twenty six.” Dieter made a face. “Look, I know you aren’t on the best of terms with him but there is no way he’s not coming to our wedding. Between the two of us we only have one parent living, and he has to be there.”

Dieter pursed his lips. “It’ll be twenty seven if he comes,” he said tersely, “because he’ll bring her.”

”Her?”

”His wife.”

“I didn’t know you had a stepmother.”

”She’s not my stepmother,” Dieter said fiercely. “She’s his wife.”

”Sorry. Is she that bad?”

He shook his head and sighed. “No, actually, she’s pretty great. Just a normal, nice lady who loves him and …” He closed his eyes. “Freddy’s kids call her Grandma. Which is fine. It’s just …”

”I get it,” I said, taking his hand in mine. I never stopped being amazed at how big his hands were. Dieter was a big man, strong — and very fragile. “I wish your mom could be there. My parents, too. They would have loved you.”

He lifted my hand to his lips. “I wish I could have met them. And my mom — I know she was problematic. I know she was selfish and Dad was better off after she left but damn it, I loved her so much.”

I let him cry against my shoulder. “I know. I know. She was your mom.” I rubbed his back and waited until he was able to compose himself. He sat back, his eyes red and his nose streaming snot. I handed him a tissue from the box that was still on the coffee table from his cold.

He blew his nose and wiped his face. “Probably not the best time to try to seduce you, huh?” His smile was tentative, but it was genuine.

”Actually, I kind of like the blotchy-faced, snot-nosed look,” I said. I shoved his notebook away and straddled his lap. With only two thin layers of silk between us, I could feel every inch of his body beneath me.

”Good, ‘cause it’s my signature look,” he said, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.

And that was the end of wedding planning for the time being. After all, June was months and months away.

[relia-robot]

Character A, who's kinda glad she's always had her childhood friend B to rely on and help her through the tough times, and who would do anything for her

Character B, who's known A for less than a week but had to do something to blend in and hide from the law, and now feels really bad about it

Jen sat on the cliff overlooking the town with her childhood friend, Scarlet, just like they had done every weekend of every summer throughout their lives. It definitely got better when they were old enough to buy their own ice pops, and even better when Scarlet got a fake ID and could buy beer earlier this summer. Jen couldn't enjoy them in quite the same way, lacking a digestive system, but she liked pressing the cold cans to her heat sinks and feeling the condensation drip down her artificial skin.

Jen snuck a look at Scarlet as she tipped back a can to catch the last dregs. Her dirty-blonde hair had been cut short just a few days ago, and it looked good. Better than just good. Scarlet put down the can, and Jen hurriedly looked away, her cooling vanes spreading out behind her in the setting sun. Why now? They'd known each other for more than a decade, they'd grown up together, she'd been there when Jen had figured out she liked girls, so why-

Why was it only now, less than a day before she was supposed to leave, that she'd caught feelings for her best friend?

Scarlet's hand lay on the dirt between them. Jen inched her hand closer. What would it mean if they touched?

"H-Hey, so, uh... you got everything sorted for the big exodus?"

"Yup!" Scarlet looked out over the town that had been their home for seventeen years, the sun casting everything in a golden light. It looked beautiful. She looked beautiful. Scarlet grinned as she tossed the can behind her into the bag of empties and popsicle sticks. "Can't wait to leave this podunk town behind."

"You, don't have anything you're gonna miss about it?" Jen tried to ask nonchalantly. Maybe Scarlet wouldn't notice the hitch in her voice.

"Well," said Scarlet as she glanced over at Jen, "this has been really nice. I'll... miss this."

Jen turned to face her. The glow of the sunset basked both of them in a radiant glow. She hesitated, leaned forward slightly. "I'll miss you."

Scarlet leaned forward, too. Her breath smelled like beer and blue raspberry. "Jen, I..."

Jen felt the two of their faces getting closer together. Maybe... maybe now was good? Maybe even if she didn't stay, it'd be good? Maybe... maybe they could...

Jen saw Scarlet open her mouth, slightly. Jen's movement hitched, then she closed her eyes and parted her lips, inching towards the other girl. Closer, and closer, and...

And she nearly overbalanced and fell forward. She opened her eyes to see Scarlet on her feet, facing away from her. "Geez, it got late, huh? I better get home, my parents will kill me. Same time tomorrow, huh?"

Jen, breathless, lips still parted, couldn't say a word as Jen grabbed the cooler, slung it onto her bicycle, and pedaled off.

---

MYSTERIOUS CRASH STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION!

Last week's meteor impact remains a mystery as authorities have been unable to find any kind of impact crater. Experts say that no known celestial objects should have been able to impact our small town, but astronomers and FBI agents continue to comb the woods for clues as to what may have caused the light show we received last Friday. Several of our residents have reported strange lights in the night sky over the last week following the impact. Local chief of police, Sheriff Fontaine, had this to say about the strange happenings-

Scarlet skimmed the rest of the article. She was pretty sure that the local bumpkins had no way of finding her ship, but if it was getting attention from outside it was definitely time to skip town. She crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, to the edge of the camouflage netting she'd set up around the crater.

It landed almost exactly where Jen had found her a week ago, the android girl's eyes acting like flashlights in the late summer dusk. She hadn't screamed, or run away, or even flinched when Scarlet had tumbled out of the small cockpit. Instead, she'd just reached down her hand to help Scarlet up.

And what had Scarlet done in return? Reprogrammed her! She had been the one that panicked! She was supposed to be better than this, better than her parents, but when push came to shove she'd been just as quick on the logic bomb as they were. And now what? Not only did Jen think she was Scarlet's childhood friend, not only had she extrapolated a whole host of fake traditions and in-jokes, but now she was trying to kiss her!

Which wouldn't be nearly so bad if Scarlet didn't desperately want to kiss her back. She flopped down next to the weird secret government craft she'd stolen and let out such a sigh of exasperation that all the local squirrels went skittering away. She lay like that for a while, arm over her eyes, then sat up again and grabbed her tools. Better to try and just fix the damn ship as best she could and get out before the spooks really found her.

---

Jen was coming back from her evening paper route when she was met with Sherrif Fontaine and her dad. Her dad took his hat off and scratched his growing bald spot - a sure sign he was anxious. "Sweetie," he said, "Sheriff Fontaine wants to ask you a couple questions. Is that okay?"

Jen straddled her bike. "Does he have a warrant?"

"Cute," deadpanned the Sheriff. "I just want to know about this girl." He brandished a photo of Scarlet at her, hair long and uncut.

Jen stared him down. "What about her?"

He heaved a sigh. "God's sake, girl, have you seen her or not? Do you know where she was last Friday?"

"She was with me. We've been best friends basically forever. We were up on the hill, like always. Is this about that meteor?" Jen remembered that night, switching to low-light mode to see it in all its scintillating colors, smeared across the sky. It had landed right behind them, why the cops hadn't found it yet was beyond her. She squinted at the memory. Why hadn't Scarlet and her gone looking for it? She remembered wanting to... hm.

The Sheriff was rolling up the paper. "Can't tell you that. But she was with you, you say?" He huffed, cybernetic cop eye implant gleaming through bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. "Fine. I'll contact you again if I need more info. Thank you for your time."

As the cop drove off, her dad put a warm hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, sweetie. But, who was that girl? I'd never seen her before, but you said she was your best friend? Is she new at school?"

Jen frowned at her dad. "Dad, we've known each other for years. It's Scarlet, she's been over tons of times."

"Oh, damnit," said her dad. "This is another one of those trans things, isn't it? I knew her by another name, and you don't want your dumb ol' dad embarrassing you by remembering the wrong person. Okay, Scarlet, right? I'll remember if I see her again, I'm sure."

Jen's eyebrows knitted together. "No, Scarlet..." Wait. That was wrong. Scarlet had always been a girl. But... she was trans. But then, when had she come out? Why couldn't she remember?

"I'm going back out, Dad, bye!" She yelled over her shoulder as she swung her bike around.

"But what about your evening charge? I made virtual burgers!!"

---

Scarlet hit ignore for the fourth time on her comms, then turned it to do-not-disturb mode. She could see government trucks moving through the city below. She had to hurry and get her ship fixed, now.

"Sorry, Jen," she whispered as the comm array logged another call. "I can't stay."

---

Jen pedaled hard through the city. Scarlet wasn't answering her phone. She hadn't been home. In fact, the home had been some old lady who'd never had kids, or even heard of Scarlet. She'd gotten a hold of the guy who did her fake ID, but he said he'd never seen her around before, and only gave her one because he recognized Jen. There were black unmarked vans everywhere. People cybernetic, robotic, and biological were standing on the street, not knowing what to do. What was happening?

She had to get to Scarlet.

She got to the base of the cliff path, only to find that the local cops were setting up a barricade. Her hands clenched on the handlebars. Whatever was happening, Scarlet was at the center of it. Had she lied to her? Was everything fake? A helicopter circled overhead.

Jen thought about last night. The almost-kiss. Her feelings for Scarlet, seeming to crop up out of nowhere just this week. The way Scarlet's eyes had softened when she said she'd miss the evening sunset with Jen. The beers. The popsicles. Watching the stars come out together.

The helicopter swung overhead again, and suddenly she was pedaling with all her might. The Sheriff shouted, but couldn't stop her from trampling over the barricade and speeding up the hill. Sirens started up behind her, and she heard tires spinning in the mud. She jumped off the road and onto her secret shortcut, straight to the top.

---

Scarlet hit the ignition switch, and the omni-engine came to life. The camouflage netting blew away in the blast, and she whooped for joy as the craft began to hover in midair. The helicopter overhead began shouting instructions into a megaphone as she went through the world's fastest pre-flight checklist.

The sun was setting, and her heart stung as she saw the cliff where Jen would be waiting for her later, never to be seen again.

---

Jen pedaled with all her might, cooling vanes fully extended, heat warnings in the corners of her vision. She launched off the path and skidded to a stop at the top of the cliff, an impossible ship hanging in the air in front of her, cockpit open. Sirens sung throughout the city as black vans suddenly lit up red and blue. Scarlet, at the controls, half turned in shock. "Jen?!"

"Scarlet! What's going on?! Who are you?!" Jen shouted over the racket of helicopter vanes and the strange engine before her.

"Jen, I'm sorry!" Scarlet shouted back, eyes suddenly damp. "I can't stay, and I don't have time to explain!"

Jen stared at her. She looked at the gap between them, the helicopters overhead. Her eyes narrowed. She spun her bike around and dove into the woods.

Scarlet watched her go, and sunk down into her seat. She was about to close the cockpit when Jen came screaming back, faster than any human could bike. Scarlet shouted as she approached the cliff's edge. "Jen, no! You'll fall!"

Jen screamed, the bike flying through the air, then abruptly changing direction straight down as she leapt, hands extending, an arrow aiming straight for the cockpit. Scarlet was so shocked she couldn't do anything as eighty pounds of plastic and ultralight alloys came directly at her face, Jen's eyes flashing, arms crushing, lips soft and tasting faintly of batteries. Her arms encircled the robot girl, and they held each other close.

Scarlet pulled away from the kiss to find Jen on her lap, both of them breathless, the cops now on the cliff beside them. Sheriff Fontaine was shouting about grounding the craft. Scarlet looked back to Jen. "I have to go."

"We have to go."

Scarlet's mouth hung open for a moment, then she smiled as her tears pinged off of Jen's artificial skin. She closed the cockpit, and held Jen close as the ship zoomed away, off into the golden sunset.

[class1akids]

Am iI the only one that doesn't like who shoto seems to constantly be put down?

Its always emphasizes how much stronger Toya is and how shoto can't compare its kinda frustrating and I know that this is from shotos pov but we're not gonna anyone else's pov when it comes to this stuff like mid war when shoto did get his moment it got taken away immediately by Toya copying shoto and then for the final fight despite endeavor not doing anything and the rest of the familys efforts not being anywhere near enough when shoto stopped the explosion the entire fam got the credit and then Toya got an ice quirk (which I hate so much it's like if shoto suddenly got blue flames out of the blue like no this is literally shotos thing) and the we are reminded again of how shoto can't compare

Toya is always victimized and while yes he is a victim the fact the he doesn't get the right to kill ppl is only said once and thats not enough compared to the amount of times it's pointed out that it's not his fault while shoto on the other hand isn't and it's rather frustrating it feels like he's always getting the short end of the stick

Really like the shoto and AM talk, it was really overdew (also makes it seem like what allmight said to shoto mid war less like pressure and more like encouragement which I'm sure is how it was intended)

I'm personally not too bothered by it:

The hero being an underdog is a pretty common trope. If you look at all the other major fights, the hero is always on the back foot. Shouto deciding to go up against Touya despite his brother's overwhelming firepower is brave and admirable and people point it out repeatedly how almost everyone underestimated Shouto.

The entire framework of the Todoroki family is Endeavor's fire. Everyone's value is always measured in relation to fire, (Ice user? Worthless. Hotter fire? Good.) without ever pausing for a moment to think what that hotter fire is for. This entire fire is fueled by resentment. Endeavor's resentment against All Might starts it, it spreads over to Touya and Touya's resentment of Endeavor fuels it to new peaks. Touya's blue fire represents the generational trauma and the negative emotions of the family.

Phosphor is the perfect endgame move for Shouto. It's narratively beautiful, it brings together everything Shouto has learned and it represents ultimately the power of healing - both Shouto's personal healing, him coming to terms with his fire, his past, but also the family coming together. Shouto's two-sided power, channeled through his heart is born after his mother and father finally meet again after a decade and the whole family comes together for Touya.

So Touya copying Phosphor to me is hopeful because Touya up until then never copied anyone but Endeavor. Taking Phosphor is a special connection with Shouto Touya never forged with anyone else. I don't think it's fully paid off yet, but I think it will.

Touya having ice also doesn't bother me. It's to be seen if Touya can use it like Shouto does, but the moment it came through was about Endeavor. It was for him to know before what he thought was his inevitable death that the son he threw away at 5 was a "masterpiece" too - in fact all his children are. I don't think that Touya having ice makes Shouto somehow less valuable - only if you accept Endeavor's rules and the children's value is decided by their quirk or power level. I'm fairly certain Shouto does not resent Touya having ice - he's more happy that his brother is still alive.

Horikoshi did delete in the volume version Shouto's quip about not being a masterpiece. We still don't know why - I suspect that Shouto and the Todoroki family will be back in Phase 3 of the fight, and maybe it will all make sense then. But the way I read that line was basically Shouto pointing out that Touya (and not Shouto) is the culmination of what Endeavor dreamt of as a heir when he started his genetic project. Someone who can take his fire technique to new heights. But what did it achieve? A burnt firstborn, a broken family, a bunch of civilians in grave danger. Endeavor's masterpiece is not a badge of honor - it's madness.

Shouto not becoming what Endeavor wanted is a good thing, and in line with his arc. He took his power in a new direction (the right way to put out a fire) and he's doing what he does for the right reasons, while also becoming a reassuring, authentic hero - which is what he wants to be. His power-level is absolutely amazing still - but that's not what the story is really about.

So let's see where it all ends. Like I said, I'm still waiting for the conclusion of the Todoroki family. Horikoshi has been "hiding" them since Shouto's Rising chapter; now that people are warping in, I'd be surprised not to see them (especially Shouto) pop up eventually. I also would not be surprised to see a power-up for Shouto, considering he's the only one who hasn't had one in the final arc, and absorbing Touya's nuke would be a good reason to give him one and also make the power-ups between the brothers go both ways. I think that was the idea with the "mingling" comment.

Finally, the family resolving its issues, they should now use that power instead of fighting each other to help the overall endgame goal.

[blue2jay]

The Protective Zeus Moment

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

Summary:Setting: During a family barbecue, Melissa tries to undermine you by claiming you’re too dependent on Leon.

🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷

“The Protective Zeus Moment”

The backyard was alive with the sound of laughter, the aroma of grilled food wafting through the warm summer air. Your grandparents’ spacious yard was the perfect setting for another family barbecue, complete with lawn games, a picnic table piled with side dishes, and your ever-watchful German Shepherd, Zeus, patrolling the perimeter like the diligent protector he was.

You were standing by the grill, chatting with Leon as he expertly flipped burgers, his relaxed confidence on full display. Zeus sat obediently by your side, his sharp eyes scanning the gathering, his ears perked up at every sound.

Melissa, dressed impeccably despite the casual setting, was lingering nearby, clearly waiting for the right moment to insert herself into the conversation.

The Undermining Begins

“So, Y/N,” Melissa began, her tone sweet but edged with condescension. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how do you handle being so… dependent on Leon? I mean, he seems to do everything for you.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt Leon stiffen slightly beside you. His hand paused mid-flip, and his sharp blue eyes darted to Melissa, but he stayed silent, letting you take the lead.

You tilted your head, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Dependent? I wouldn’t say that. We’re partners, Melissa. We work together as a team.”

Melissa waved a dismissive hand, her bracelet catching the sunlight. “Oh, of course, but I mean… he’s just so capable. I bet it’s hard not to lean on him all the time. It’s just… not everyone can handle that kind of dynamic.”

Before you could reply, Zeus rose to his feet. His large frame moved effortlessly between you and Melissa, his tail low but wagging slightly. His stance wasn’t aggressive, but it was firm—a silent, protective barrier.

Zeus Takes Action

Melissa took a small step back, startled by Zeus’s sudden movement. “Uh… what’s he doing?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

Leon smirked, handing you the tongs as he crouched beside Zeus, scratching him behind the ears. “He’s just doing his job,” Leon said casually. “Zeus is trained to protect the people he cares about. He knows when someone’s crossing a line.”

You couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you reached down to pat Zeus on the head. “Good boy, Zeus,” you said softly, feeling a wave of gratitude for your loyal companion.

Melissa forced a laugh, trying to regain her composure. “Well, I wasn’t crossing any lines. I was just… making an observation.”

Your Response

You straightened up, meeting Melissa’s gaze head-on. “And here’s my observation, Melissa: Leon and I have built a life where we rely on each other equally. That’s not dependence—it’s trust. Maybe that’s hard to understand if you’ve never experienced it.”

The words hit their mark, and Melissa’s expression faltered for a moment before she quickly masked it with another forced smile.

“Well,” she said, adjusting her bracelet, “I guess it’s nice to have that kind of support. Not everyone needs it, though.”

Leon, still crouched beside Zeus, glanced up with a sharp but calm expression. “Support isn’t a weakness, Melissa. It’s a choice. And I’m proud to be the kind of man Y/N can count on—just like she’s someone I can count on, too.”

Your Grandparents Chime In

Your grandmother, who had been listening from her spot at the picnic table, decided to weigh in. “Melissa, dear, there’s no shame in relying on someone you love. Your grandfather and I have been doing it for decades. That’s what makes a strong relationship.”

Your grandfather nodded, sipping his iced tea. “Exactly. And for the record, Y/N and Leon have got it figured out better than most. Including us back in the day.”

Melissa looked like she wanted to argue but thought better of it, settling for a tight-lipped smile instead.

Zeus Stays Vigilant

Zeus, still positioned between you and Melissa, let out a soft huff, his tail wagging slightly as if to signal his approval of the situation.

Leon chuckled, standing and resting a hand on Zeus’s head. “See? Even Zeus knows what’s up.”

Your grandmother laughed, shaking her head. “Smart dog. He’s got better instincts than most people.”

Melissa crossed her arms, clearly irritated but unwilling to push further. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to have a dog that… knows his place.”

“His place,” you said pointedly, “is wherever he wants to be—because he’s earned it.”

The Perfect Finish

As the barbecue continued, Melissa remained unusually quiet, retreating to a spot by David, who was unsuccessfully trying to avoid the conversation. Zeus stayed close to you and Leon, his presence a comforting reminder of the strong bond you shared—not just with each other, but with your protective and loyal companion.

Later, as you sat by the fire pit with Leon, Zeus lying at your feet, Leon leaned over to kiss your temple. “You handled that perfectly,” he murmured.

“Thanks,” you said with a grin. “But Zeus really stole the show.”

Leon laughed softly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “He’s got good taste—just like me.”

And as the fire crackled and the stars began to dot the sky, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. With Leon and Zeus by your side, nothing could shake the foundation you’d built together.

[quillthrillswriting]

there are lots of people who've wondered what the gaang as a whole would have been like if they'd been older when they went on their world-altering quest, but... what if just aang was older? what if he had been frozen in his iceberg at age 16, instead of age 12?

for starters, i'm sure it'd change the dynamic between him and katara. maybe she'd look at him differently more quickly, maybe we'd get a bit of a reverse crush? he'd be taller than sokka much earlier on, and when zuko found him, he'd be "just a teenager," not "just a child."

essentially, to recap. ATLA aang aged up AU fic. kataang. where she falls first, and he falls harder.

i present to you... excepts from "the teenager in the iceberg", my newest ao3 fic 🤍

---

Shining blue eyes. Bright robes made up of strips of fabric coloured in shades of sunset they almost never saw down in the Southern tribes. 

The most beautiful boy she’d ever seen .

---

“W-Will-” he struggled, the words so hoarse that it was as though he hadn’t used his voice in decades. He cleared his throat, eyes sparkling distractingly, grinning roguishly. “Will you go penguin sledding with me?”

Katara blanched, momentarily caught off guard. She looked back over at Sokka, who had been watching the exchange with narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression as he recrossed his arms over one another. 

“I- um-... yes?” she answered, hesitantly, just as Sokka’s voice overlapped hers, yelping the words “She absolutely will not!” Katara shot him a scathing glare as the boy rose to his feet, shaking the snow off of his cloak like a polar-bear dog. 

Sokka continued, his voice both indignant and commanding.“We don’t even know your name, Mr. Walking Ice Cube! What were you doing in there? Were you trying to mimic a snow-man and you got too carried away?” 

“And you aren’t dressed for the cold,” Katara added appraisingly, giving him a once-over. “You look-”

“Dashingly handsome?” The boy smoothly interjected, accompanied by a grin that felt like it was just for her.

“...Cold.”  she said flatly, hoping she wasn’t furiously blushing as she shot him with what she hoped came across as a scathing glare.

---

Katara still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Aang. The Water Tribe boys had always been all flashy muscles, seal-jerky breath, and overconfidence, so Katara had never seen someone move, carry themself, the way Aang did.

---

Katara had admittedly forgotten how much fun penguin sledding was. “Spirits, I haven’t done this since I was a kid!” she called to Aang as he raced past her, surprisingly skilled considering that he’d never even seen a penguin until half an hour before. 

“You still are a kid!” He called back over his shoulder. “A kid who’s losing this race, badly!”

Katara’s competitive streak reared its head, her eyes narrowing as Aang stuck out his tongue. She sat up slightly, no longer gripping the penguin’s fur as tightly. “You wish!” She shouted back the words as she raised her hands, breathing deeply. Her hands moved through the positions she had practised from the few bending scrolls the tribe still held on to, and before Aang knew it, the snow in front of Katara turned to ice, and she shot past him as his own ice trail suddenly became dry snow with too much friction to slide on. 

She made it to the bottom of the hill, beaming, breathing heavily. The wind had whipped her hair out of her bun, and she knew without checking that her hair must have looked like a lion-turtle’s mane. She watched as Aang made a show of drying himself off with a gust of wind that he then redirected at her, messing up her curls even more. 

“You’re a cheater !” Aang gasped, mockingly clutching imaginary pearls at his throat. “I demand a rematch.”

Katara strode past him, only turning her head to cast him a smug smirk. “Maybe you’re just not as good of a penguin sledder as you thought.”

“Oh, not so fast!” Aang grabbed her wrist, tugging her back towards him, and she internally questioned why the momentary brush of their skin made her heart flip. He tried to trip her, she tried to flip him, and they both ended up on their backs in the snow, giggling, cheeks and noses bright pink from the cold. 

---

“Gran, I want you to meet Aang, he’s-”

“An airbender.” Her grandmother said the words with complete and utter awe. “The last airbender.”

Aang’s nose wrinkled in confusion, his head tilting and mouth opening to ask for clarification, but Gran’s next words stunned him and the rest of the room into silence. 

“The Avatar .”

Sokka and Katara’s jaws dropped, both pivoting to face Aang. Katara looked up at him, expecting to see shock and confusion, but she was met with sheepishness as Aang rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“You are .” Katara breathed. “Spirits, you’re the Avatar.”

♥ this (multichapter) fic is still in progress, but check out the first chapter here!->

[defilerwyrm]

Oh, Alcohol.

Barenaked Ladies saved me from a life (and possibly death) as an alcoholic.

Let me explain:

My first official, tax-paying job as as a mutuel teller at a horse track in the mid aughts. I worked for $8.15/hour most of the year and during live season (when races were taking place at my track) they bumped it up to $8.50. During live race nights, I could easily pull in $100 in tips in a night.

You would have thought that a nearly-homeless college dropout trapped in a relationship he didn’t yet fully realize was extremely abusive would have squirreled that away to make a better life for himself, but no. My coworkers (including The Ex From Hell) liked to go drinking at the restaurant/bar across the highway from the track after live race nights—twice a week—and I, being starved for company and having TEFH as my only ride home, went with them.

It was always a jolly old time. I drank so many mudslides & flying grasshoppers and ate so many mozzarella sticks you wouldn’t believe. My regular bartender and I (and that phrase should set off alarm bells in your head already) developed a new drink! It’s still one of my favorites. Here, let me share it with you:

AQUA VELVET 2 parts blue curaçao 2 parts Midori (melon liqueur) 1 part pineapple juice spritz of Sprite Shake with ice, strain, serve cold in a hurricane glass.

Fucking incredible drink.

But yeah. I drank pretty heavily every night we went out. Drank until I got loose and loopy and extremely homosexual. Drank until I didn’t care about the dysphoria I was trying to ignore and the mental illness & traumas I couldn’t afford to get help for. Until, for just a few hours, I was happy.

And then one night as “Closing Time” by Semisonic played on the speaker system and I received my solo bill, I really looked at it and realized I’d spent literally all of my tip money for that day’s work. I spent over $100 on alcohol in one sitting—in 2007 or 2008 money, on an $8.50/hour wage. Moreover, I’d drank over a hundred dollars worth of booze specifically for the goal of getting drunk and staying that way.

As a sidebar, one of the many things wrong with me is moderate/severe OCD. My most intrusive symptom is endomusia—music stuck in my head…every…waking…moment. As in, I can tell when I’ve woken up because that’s when the music starts. (In a fascinating twist, my father and brother both suffer this, too.) Any little thing that I see or hear or think about could set off a new song playing on repeat in my head.

And in that moment, looking at that staggering total on my receipt for the night, I heard Barenaked Ladies jamming their way through a syncopated bridge:

I thought that drinking just to get drunk was a waste of precious booze

Had it not been for that song, I would not have known that drinking to get drunk on a regular basis was a classic sign of alcoholism. But because I knew and loved that song, and because I had that moment of crystalline clarity at something like one in the morning, I realized that I had a fucking problem and I needed to stop.

I am immeasurably lucky that I came to this realization before my alcoholism developed into an actual dependency instead just of a deeply stupid bad habit I did for fun twice a week. I don’t take for granted that it could have been the end of me if not for that single moment. As much horrific shit as has happened to me in my life, holy fuck have I ever gotten some lucky breaks.

I don’t drink much nowadays, and haven’t for almost a decade. I don’t really like how it makes me feel most of the time. I just finished a top shelf margarita before writing this, in the safety of my own home, and it’s—I think the second alcoholic drink I’ve had this year.

So yeah. Music saves lives, y’all.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #18

18. SAN MARINO Megara - "11:11" 33rd place

Decade Ranking: 66/153 [Above Aiko, below Hooverphonic]

Soy "Otra Gente".

Yes, ~Megara & Aiko~ back-to-back as a tribute to the blossoming new relationship. (how cute that these are the two LAST EVER entrants for both of those countries ♥). Star-crossed pansexuals forever tethered side-by-side in this ranked afterlife. THIS is how you do serendipitous running orders, Christer, fucking take notes. (Another fragment of my neurodivergent soul destoyed when he decided to put Megara 10th in the r/o and make 11:11 the 12th overall song to be performed that night).

But Aiko and Megara also represent the duality of modern day NQs. While Aiko delivered a good vocal, glammed-up to a 7.5/10 and still died (lol though luck fighting those bookmakers, girl), Kenzie delivered an ABSOLUTELY ROTTEN VOCAL, downgraded to a 7.5/10 and logically died because it's San Fucking Marino. 😍

Like, idk how to break it to you, but for once, San Marino actually earned the Ironic Standom label. Let's start with the fact that they're repped by my fave act from last year's Benifest with a song about how unfairly robbed "Arcadia" was. ♥

M E

P E L A

M E P E L A

Y si tú no me quieres otra gente me quierian

This year's line-up was so up my alley even the fanfiction was fucking me-coded.

And a fanfic it fucking was because in order to rep Scam Marino, Megara had to beat the following at Una Voce:

Jalisse, Italy's 97's reps (and erstwhile BubbleFaves) who TVSM found in a dusty retirement home somewhere in Italy, recruited as a Big Name, and who reportedly stormed out of the venue as soon as they were eliminated by the jury. (😍)

David Bowie's former flame Dana Gillespie, who sang an AI-written composition about climate change called "The last polar bear" (sample lyrics:" I'm just a polar bear trying to survive :old:" // "Is there someone out there who has mercy on a polar bear?" :old:) (and they HAD to admit this in the final because Una Voce's main sponsor was the company that wrote the AI script which composed the song lmfaooo ♥)

Nusa Derenda's son, who was part of a three-himbot boyband and was absolutely HORRIBLE (the other two did ALL of the lifting ♥), only for them to be completely omited from the first recap of the night (WILL THE BULLYING OF SLOVENIA EVER END?!)

Loredana Bertè, Mia Martini's estranged blue-haired sister who crossed over from San Remo for the sole purpose of terrorizing her ex-husband Björn Borg, and performed in her usual style: dressed as a schoolgirl (she's over 70 btw), hands in her pockets, fully disassociated, sounding like she was halfway through her fourth bottle of Disaronno.

How is ANY of this a waking reality?! Megara beating Loredana last-minute was the icing on the cake because while the notion of Pazza is funny enough (it rhymes "artifice" with "toothpaste" <3), Megara at least had... a concept? an Idea? A song?

And then we got to the contest itself. The preview comes in and has THE EXACT SAME IMPACT ON ME as Bambie's did in the first semi - STOP ALL THE PRESSES, I WANT TO SEE THIS IN FULL IDGAF ABOUT ANY OF THE OTHERS OR MY PERSONAL HEALTH AND RESPONSIBLIITIES!!!! you know, the usual hinged eurofan stuff.

When we finally got to the full live omg ♥ A fantastic act completely PULVERIZED into death by Kenzie's inability to perform ♥ From actually WALKING OFF THE SCREEN

to having her own small Emily Roberts moment in the second chorus

Shittastic. it worked because, thankfully, the song WAS fodder to begin with (no losses there) and the staging -conceptually at least- was visionary. This is probably the best San Marino have ever staged.

The delectable Dias De Muertos flamengo break ♥

the haphazard trigger happy hazbin hotel fuschia fiesta freakshow aesthetics ♥

the silly overlays that actually WORKED BETTER THAN LUX'S ♥

THE DEMON RABBIT INTO DEMON CORPSES DANCERS ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

This (metaphorical) shit was masterfully staged and Kenzy still served LOOKS AND ENERGY despite failing at everything else.

If you're going to be hopeless, then be hilariously bad at giving hope, is what I say.

11:11 was pure chaos on a black-and-pink demon barber pole, which for experimental art rock serving as a middle finger to Spain's lack of taste, is a pretty good medium of expression. The way Megara were guaranteed double digit points because the Mericones (this year's honorary name for Cigarillos/Spanish Fags btw..x) were casting votes in this semi (♥) allowed them to give zero fucks. ♥

Of course, if Megara (and specifically Kenzie) had been in any way competent, then 11:11 could have qualified with that act, and that would have been ICONIC. But they weren't and we missed out on another SF2 epic turnaround, which is probably why I'm not ranking them amongst the very good entries this year. (also, if I did I'd be compelled to rank 'em 11th and LOL @ bumping Aiko up to 12th place). I'm accepting of 11:11's shortcomings, but also acknowledge that it has them. The quality standards were surprisingly high this year, and I enjoy the remaining entries sufficiently that I don't need to cling to Megara as hard as I normally would. Fun filler it is, and that's the perfect endpoint for San Marino's journey.

THE RANKING