#its not like he's got his own marital problems at home not at all

[kyoukorpse]

Here's a proper ref of my goat Jakub >:) still so grateful that the goat was added as a playable option its like he was made for me.

He's a scoundrel and acts before thinking 95% of the time. Let him come over to your side to do normal things like drive you up the wall in knucklebones by eating all ur die and running around your cult kissing your spouses.

His playlist <<

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Benedict Bridgerton x pregnant wife!reader

A/N: I have received the following prompt: “Benedict Bridgerton with wife pregnant!reader. If any of Bridgerton's siblings had any problems, she was the first one they came to ask for advice even the oldest. All this attention was making Ben jealous as he was having less time with her. She told him that he would have to share her for the rest of his life before letting him know age was pregnant. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))” And I have tried to write it. It must be my first reader!insert romance story and it was so much fun. I hope you like what I have made of it. (~ 4650 words)

Benedict was grinning like a cheshire cat and you found it increasingly hard to refrain from tackling him to the ground to pepper his face with kisses. Expertly you were decorating his chestnut hair with flowers from the Bridgerton country home garden, the large rose bushes on either side of the alley leading up to the house shielding you from the sun. You were sitting in front of him cross-legged, the flowers gathered up in your lap. Benedict was facing you, his long legs stretched out in a way that his shins touched your hips. His hands were propped up in the grass behind his back and the sun was painting shimmering golden flecks on his head when the wind rustled through the leaves of the bushes.

Your husband looked deliciously delighted and nothing made you happier than seeing him that way. After one year of marital bliss, you’d decided to go to the country side with the rest of the Bridgerton family to spend the days in their presence and to enjoy the fresh air outside of London. A week before departing you had realized with heart-wrenching joy that your cycle was interrupted – you hadn’t bled when the time was due and had the very strong suspicion that a small version of yourself and Benedict was growing inside your belly. As nature sometimes tended to have its cruel way with humans, you had not yet mentioned it to your husband, fearing that the regular bleeding would merely commence one or two weeks late. But since your arrival, nothing had changed. The sheets remained unstained and your suspicion ��transformed itself into something of a certainty. You tended to wake in the night and almost instinctively moved your hands to your belly, greeting the tiny human sprout with the warmth radiating from your palms. “Hello,” you’d started to whisper, “I hope it’s not too dark in there. Don’t worry, you are not alone.”

Now, as your husband was enjoying your melodic humming and the sweet smell of the flowers that caressed his hair, you felt inside of you a bubbling wish to lean forward and whisper the good news into his ear. The good news you’d barely managed to fully apprehend on your own. It was scary to reveal such a tender, fragile and unpredictable thing as a pregnancy. There was too much that could still go wrong, too much that still stood between you and the day of birth. Yet, looking at Benedict all calm and relaxed made you wish to comment on how you hoped your child’s eyes would be like his or how you could imagine him holding the small bundle to his chest, a little nose peeking out from white cloth.

You leaned over, closer towards him and moved your hand to the side of his face. His half-closed lids blinked open and his smile deepened when his gaze landed on your tender face.

“Am I positively in bloom now?”

You snickered and carefully brushed your fingertips over the petals behind his ear, making Benedict shiver ever so slightly. “Any young lady would envy you for such an exquisite coiffure!”

Narrowing his eyes, Benedict snarled at you, shaking his head and sending a few petals flying off onto the grass. “You’re lucky I had four younger sisters with a similar taste for dressing me up or I would have long taken off over the meadows!”

Biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely, you got on your knees in one swift motion to wrap your arms around your husband’s shoulders, bringing you faces closer together. “You wouldn’t even have taken off if I had brought a pair of scissors with me to experiment on your hair!”

He chuckled gently and moved an arm over the small of your back to pull you even closer. “It can’t possibly be a good thing that you are correct about this!”

His lips found yours and you melted into the kiss as if the sun had suddenly gotten strong enough to evaporate you. Smoothly you moved your chest over his torso, your hands following the outlines of his shoulders. He hummed into your mouth, his voice vibrating through your skin as your fingers found his face, where your thumbs started caressing the slightest hint of a stubble.

“Benedict,” you sighed, your smile mirrored on his lips, “I have something to-“

“(Y/N)!!” A shrill voice shouted from the front steps of the big country house. You were so surprised, you almost choked, your forehead knocking against your husband’s. Benedict grabbed your elbows to keep you from falling over, one eye closed against the pain of head-to-head contact.

“Oww,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder with faint annoyance. Hyacinth’ voice was easily discernible and lately, she’d managed to interrupt quite a few of your… get togethers.

“(Y/N), are you in the garden?!”  

Raising one hand to your forehead, you couldn’t keep from letting out a breathless laugh. “Ten minutes of peace were quite the luxury, I daresay.”

Benedict let out a sigh, but pulled the corners of his lips up in a little smile, when he saw the humour in your eyes. “Sooner or later, I am going to grab her and lock her in the closet!”

Comfortingly, you patted his chest, before moving your hand to his hair to straighten one crooked daisy. “She’d probably find that rather amusing.”

“Are you sure? She is so very … fourteen now!” Benedict said, an overly accentuated speck of fear concerning teenage-girlhood glinting in his eyes. “When the day comes that we have a fourteen year old daughter, you must help me make sure I never become the object of her wrath!”

Holding your breath, you turned to look at him in awe. Did he know? Had he already figured it out all by himself that you were pregnant? But no, his eyes merely showed signs of good-tempered amusement. He had not yet a clue, which made his comment all the more valuable to you. “I love you,” you stated with feeling and crashed your lips to his in such a surprising manner, that he almost fell over, which laced your kiss with his sweetest chuckles. Moving your face away, you hesitated for a second, gazing in his shining blue eyes, unsure whether you should tell him immediately.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes twitching curiously. You bit down on your lip, enchanted by the way he could almost read your mind. The good news about possible upcoming parenthood would have to wait though. You wanted to tell him, when it was only the two of you.

“Perfectly so,” you therefore exclaimed, before bringing your hands to his chest to push him over for good. Quickly you rose to your feet to answer to Hyacinth’ incessant shouting, laughing at Benedict’s attempts to grab for your heels in retaliation.

“I am here!!” You sang, taking your skirts in your hands to take a few running steps in her direction. She did the same, meeting you halfway and wrapping her arms around your middle, asking to be coddled, while she was going on and on about how she needed your help with this one French book she was reading. You walked back to the house with her, a smile on your features and your arms around her smaller body, as you indulged in the fantasy of her being your daughter and of you being the mother she’d asked for counsel. You looked over your shoulder and saw that Benedict was watching you two. You couldn’t help but wonder whether he was imagining the exact same thing as you.

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

After two hours of translations and musings about the difficult French language, Benedict came barging into the study, looking at Hyacinth with a quarrelsome expression.

“Sister,” he growled in a rather menacing tone, “are you kidnapping my wife?”

Holding both your hands on the pages of the big book, you tilted your head in his direction with a meaningful grin. “Oh, you!”

But Hyacinth wasn’t the youngest Bridgerton for nothing. Defiantly she stood up from her chair and walked towards him in the middle of the room. “How dare you!! You didn’t even knock!!”

Benedict almost flinched, when she drilled an authoritative finger into his chest. With seven older siblings, there really wasn’t much that seemed to scare her. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted.

“I am in the midst of a very important lesson and I am fairly certain you still remember how to breathe without (Y/N)!! So!! Fare thee well!!”

It was incredibly hard for you not to burst into a small laughing fit with Benedict looking positively puzzled and his youngest sister intonating every single word as if there was an exclamation mark behind it. Yet, you managed to hide your smile behind your hand as you feigned a cough, which, judging by the way your husband looked at you, Benedict easily identified as an act. He narrowed his eyes and looked from you back to his sister who was still planted before him with a vigour unlike her size and age.

“Very well.” He eventually said; but it wasn’t without a lightness at the end of his phrase – one that was giving him away. Not only to you who had only known him for a short time compared to Hyacinth who had grown up with him. She gasped out “NO!” and wanted to take a step back, but Benedict had already grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder.

“BENEDICT!!” She screeched, still sounding very childlike, despite wishing to appear much more adult at her tender age. “LET ME DOWN!!”

You looked on with a smile, chuckling at the way Benedict was trying to avoid kicking feet from hitting him in the face. “Do you really think you intimidate me, sister?”

Hyacinth’ squeals mixed with hysterical giggles, when Benedict managed to pin down the swinging legs and started tickling the backs of her knees and calves, her fists drumming against his back. “Dohohoohn’t!!” She giggled, all vigour gone from her sweet voice that sounded much more like the one of a child again.

“Will you release (Y/N) and continue your ‘very important lesson’ some other time?” He asked teasingly, a wide grin appearing on his features when Hyacinth’ mirthful sounds started resonating through the study.

“I WILL I WILL!!” She conceded hastily, her hands trying to grab the fabric of his waistcoat. “Don’t tickle!!”

With an approving noise, Benedict stilled his hands and bent over to plant his sister back on the floor. Groaning from the effort, he shook out his arms when he’d finally managed it. “You are getting too tall for this, aren’t you?” The seriousness in his voice combined with the way he cocked his head to the side in wonder had you throw your head back with a laugh.

Hyacinth put her hands on her hips and looked up at her brother with a pout. “I do definitely hope so!!” She sneered, before planting a fist in the crook of his stomach and quickly making her way to the door. A small smile was grazing her features, when she turned around again in the doorframe, directing her question to you. “We will continue our lessons, tomorrow, yes?”

“Of course, Hyacinth! We will make time for it!” You responded with a smile of your own, closing the book about French history and getting up from your chair to join your husband who was over-dramatically enacting an on-the-brink-of-death scene in the middle of the room, coughing and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Internal bleeding! Internal bleeding!” He repeated hoarsely, making it impossible for Hyacinth not to break out into a laugh. “You’re so annoying!” She giggled, quickly bustling away, when he took a menacing step in her direction.

When the door fell close behind her, he dropped the act immediately and turned towards you with a sigh of relief. “Finally!”

You made a very undignified noise, when his hands grabbed for the fabric of your dress and pulled you towards him, your bodies colliding in an inelegant way, full of hunger and devotion. Giggling, you turned your head to the side, when his lips found your neck, kisses and nibbles sending ticklish jolts into your hairline. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

“It appears, I am overcome,” he mumbled into your skin, taking a deep breath from the sensitive skin under your ear, “by a very strong need to spend some… quality time alone with you!”

“Quality time?” Moving your hands up his back, you allowed him to lead you backwards into the study, your steps mirroring his own until you reached the table with the big French history book. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the warm touch of his lips to your cheeks.

“Mhhh,” he agreed, his nose circling your own and his lips grazing your mouth as he spoke, “the rare, special occasion is one I am very ambitious for!”

Smoothly, Benedict’s hands moved under your behind to lift you ever so slightly and place you on the table, the book shifting backwards, giving room to you. You moved your hands from his back to his cheeks, your hands cupping the face in front of you and holding it steady for the kiss you planted on its lips. Benedict smiled peacefully, his blue eyes sinking into yours. “I love my family dearly, dearly, dearly… but I need to have these moments with you alone, truly alone!”

The heart within your chest contracted for one beat, sending a slightly painful sting through your body. It was only a short moment, only one small hint of fear, but it sufficed to make you realize that you were scared Benedict might not actually be as thrilled as you were about the child blossoming in your belly. What if it was too early? What if Benedict still required, perhaps even hoped for some time without a family? What if he would be overwhelmed by a family that grew and grew and never seemed to allow you two any more time alone? You gulped and suddenly moved your hands back to his shoulders, holding on tightly.

Benedict seemed to notice that something was off, moving his head away from the side of your face to look you in the eyes. His gaze was soft and sweet and you wanted to drown in it, wanted to get lost in it as he moved his hands all over your body. But for now there was no more movement aside from his nose brushing against yours, a movement equal to a question.

“Are you alright?”

You realized you’d been holding your breath and took a deep one, before pushing your face into his as affectionately as you could. “I just want you,” you whispered, meaning it in every way possible, from head to toes, from now on to the end of your days, from his soul to his heart to every memory you’d make together. You wanted him. And every single part of him that grew through you. You could only hope that it would be the same way for him. “I want you so badly,” you continued, your voice almost hoarse from raw emotion which made his eyes flicker with a suddenly burning fire. Devotion radiated from his kiss adjoined to something that went deeper, something that was inexplicable and yet so strangely clear.

“You have me!” He growled into your neck, breathing your scent another time and kissing the vein running up your skin with an urgence. “You will have me! Entirely!”

You smiled against his cheek and moved your lips to his mouth to steal a kiss from its corner. That made him smile your favourite smile and suddenly you were lifted off of the table and carried towards the door. Moving your arms around his neck, you held on to him, running your eyes up and down his face to not miss a single sign of his happiness. You didn’t have to ask where he’d take you, knowing full well that he would tug you into the sheets of his bed, caressing your skin with his own and joining your bodies to become one. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, and afterwards you would tell him, afterwards you would try to find the right words and hope for a reaction that wouldn’t scare you. Right now, he was right, it would be just the two of you.

He opened the door… and ran into Anthony.

“Anthony!” He exclaimed in surprise, not yet considering to drop you which you found at the same time embarrassing and sweet. Trying to turn around in his embrace, you looked at Anthony over your shoulder, greeting him with a quite awkward “Hello!”

“Where have you two been, I was looking all over for you… wait, don’t answer that!” He waved his hand around in front of his chest, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Though I do have to say, I’d like to know if the study should be er… cleaned!”

“Brother!!” Benedict groaned, his head dropping on your shoulder, the warmth from his reddened cheeks burning your skin.

Chuckling, you patted Benedict’s shoulder to signal you’d like to be let down. The muscles in his arms clenched from unwillingness, but he did indulge you and let you slide to a standing position.

You decided not to answer the last comment and simply tilted your head to the side expectantly, your unashamed smile making Anthony’s own grow. “What was it you needed from us?”

“Not I,” Anthony responded, his amusement at his brother’s unmistakable frustration quite obvious. “But our dear mother. She needs your opinions for the upcoming summer ball. Apparently Daphne and Kate would like you to join in on the preparations.”

Benedict groaned loudly. You tried not to send him a sympathetic glance and merely nodded at Anthony’s request, asking in return where you could find the other ladies.

“Don’t worry, brother!” Anthony consoled your husband, when you took his hand in a silent goodbye. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you after dinner. I know how hard it can be to find… some time alone.”

Benedict actually felt compelled to smile at his brother in gratitude, before sending you one more longing gaze. “I can’t wait.”

Then Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in one direction and the preparations for the ball pulled you in the other. During the time it took to walk to the ladies of the house, you couldn’t stop worrying about what Benedict’s reaction would be once you told him of the pregnancy after dinner.

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Being at the table with the entire family always put Benedict into good spirits, no matter how much he’d longed for a moment alone with you throughout the day. He made faces at Daphne, poked Eloise into the side until she almost choked on a piece of bread, laughed at Colin’s jokes and exchanged warm glances with his mother. You were having lovely conversations with Kate and spoke some more to Hyacinth about her French. Everyone at the table tried to outdo Colin and his funny remarks, but no one quite was as good at it as he was and he seemed to be taking great pride in it.

Seeing Benedict interact with his family reassured you in a way you had not entirely realized you’d needed. Yes, you were both in great need of being close to each other in private. Yes, you were both enjoying it immensely, when no one interrupted your time together. But being at the table with everyone, conversing, joking, teasing and simply enjoying each other’s company was something Benedict would never have to ‘suffer’ through. Time spent with his family was time well spent and you could see in his face that he was more than content. e

It took away so much of the fear you’d felt throughout the day, the fear that he might not be happy about the news that you were with child. This was his world and he would be, you were very certain, delighted to have such a world of his own.

Kate and Anthony were the first to leave the table – in the dim candle light you couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he was waggling his eyebrows at you – and after a while, you, Benedict, Daphne and Simon all decided to do the same, bidding your adieus from the family for the day and retiring to your chambers.

Benedict was in high spirits which was most likely due to the lovely evening and the prospect of finally being alone with you without fear of interruption. You suppressed a squeal, when he decided to chase you up the stairs, scooping you into his arms at the far end of the hallway that followed and banging open the door to your shared room with his shoulder. You giggled uncontrollably, when he kicked the door closed with his foot and practically ran towards the bed to throw you on the covers.

“I am going to jump out of the window if anyone dares interrupt us here and now!” He hissed humorously, taking off his waistcoat as quickly as he could and starting to work on his breeches.

Laughing cheerfully, you moved your hands in his direction, demanding him to get into the bed this instant. “Must you seriously be standing over there while getting undressed?”

“Where are my manners?” He gasped out in fake shock and all but dove into the sheets next to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you underneath him, drawing more silly laughter out from you when he pushed his face into the silk covering your belly. “Taking off clothes is almost as intrusive as my siblings! We will simply ignore them!!”

It was hard to speak through your laughter, but somehow you managed to grab a hold of his head and pulled it up towards you. “Ben, please, I must breathe! I must breathe!”

Grinning widely, he pushed his face against yours. “You should have to quit laughing for that first!”

It took a moment, but you did manage to calm your breathing, your arms wrapped around your husband who had his head propped up on one hand and was looking at you with a lazy smile. “Better?”

That almost made you burst out laughing again, but you managed to control yourself and instead grabbed him by the shoulders and changed positions, ending up on top of him. He huffed out in surprise, but his smile was big enough to light up the room, when he grabbed your thighs on either side of his hips.

“I feel deliciously trapped!”

“I have something to tell you!” You mused, searching for his hands with your own to interlock your fingers. Apparently you were in need of holding on to him while telling him what would come next. The pressure of his palms against your own quieted your mind and helped you focus on the matter at hand.

“Something you have to pin me down for?” He joked, his eyes widening with amusement. For you, his question brought back a small amount of dread and your smile fell ever so slightly.

“I… I hope not!” With hesitation you looked away, running your thumbs over his hands to calm yourself, while you were in search of what exactly to say. It would appear easy enough, declaring that one was pregnant, but, in truth, uttering the words was quite powerful and made the reality of the phrase stand out quite drastically.

“What is it?” Benedict asked, sitting up slightly and observing with a portion of concern the way you were biting the inside of your cheek. “(Y/N), is everything alright?”

You moved your eyes up, locking your gaze with his and taking a deep breath. It was all there, in his eyes: the love, the devotion, the care. He would be delighted. Yes, there was no other way…

“Ben, I know that sometimes it feels like we do not have a lot of time to ourselves.” He snorted in response to your words, underlining them with his reaction.

“The time I get to spend alone with you is a most cherished treasure.” You continued and slightly bucked your hips against his, making him chuckle softly. “Now, it is simply so…” You gulped and looked from left to right, before deciding to bring both of his hands to your belly. “It is so that… I am almost one hundred percent sure that I am…”

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!” Benedict shouted over your poor attempts of uttering the words you found so hard to actually say out loud and before you had a chance to asses the situation, you were pushed on your back, with your head by the foot of the bed and your husband fussing over you. His big hands were moving from your cheek to your belly to his head and back to your belly, all while he made noises of the purest and most natural delight you’d ever seen in a man.

“You’re pregnant!! You’re pregnant!!” He kept on repeating, his joy reverberating through every single nerve end on his body and conjoining with your own. All the insecurities of the day fell off your shoulders and the light weight that remained made your eyes water.

“Oh, my love,” you almost sobbed out, “I am so happy to see you react this way!”

“How could I not?” Benedict laughed with joy, cupping your face and kissing you and kissing you some more, small wet drops falling on your cheeks, when his emotions got the better of him. “We will be parents!” He choked out, before kissing you again and moving his hands to your belly again. “You are having a baby!” He uttered with teary eyes, sinking down on the level of your middle to place a thousand kisses on your gown. “A baby!!” He repeated again, before laughing incredulously.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him up and towards you. You needed to have him close as you buried your face in his shoulder and allowed tears of your own to run down your cheeks. “I love you!” You whispered with all your affection. “I love you and I love you and I love you!!”

More of Benedict’s tears fell on your face, when he moved himself up slightly, the salty traces mingling with your own. “My love,” he hummed softly, “you were worried, weren’t you? You were worried, it would make me fear for our alone time! Oh, (Y/N), I don’t fear that! I don’t fear a single thing when it comes to us!”

He buried his face in your neck to breathe you in, before looking at your belly again – it would become a recurrent thing in the following nine months, as your belly grew, he would look and look and look with all the adoration he was capable of. “I am beyond happy!”

“As am I!” You placed your hand over his own on your belly, as you were starting to realize the truth of this situation together, as you started to talk about names and traits, as you started to exchange assumptions and plans. It was exactly the way you’d hoped it would be.

A new chapter in your life began.

[blackjackkent]

One of the things I've been excited about regarding reaching this point in the game is that @astreamofstars informed me that there is Additional Minsc Content which I missed during Hector's playthrough! Specifically, last time I was so excited to follow him and meet Boo that I completely missed that you can see Minsc's little hideout down in the sewers, with his living area and some of his keepsakes. c:

He's actually got kind of a cute little setup here - bed area (complete with a cute little divider), cooking firepit, washtub, dining table. A lot of random chests and boxes and papers lying around. It amused me that the first thing I noticed was that the only thing on the dining table is "Whole Chicken" which feels on-brand.

The washbasin has several soap bars and sponges next to it. I know I'm hung up on the presence of this washbasin but for some reason I am deeply charmed at Minsc living in a sewer with his rodent and nevertheless having an elaborate bathing setup. (Alternate interpretation - he has it because it is His Home and Should Have a Bath but never actually used it. XD )

On a table next to the bed is a book labeled "The Stone Lord's Sketches," which is both adorable and heartbreaking:

Buddy. :( It's okay, you can remember him and have him back now.

The real treasure trove, however, is in the next room, past the wall Minsc smashed through, which has a number of items in what seem to be places of honor on pedestals along the walls.

It seems like someone at Larian forgot to make models for these items, because all of them (with the exception of the "Cracked Wooden Mask" look in-game like inscribed stone tablets. But we can use our imaginations!

All of the characters have commentary on each one if they're the active character to click on them, although Minsc's comment takes precedence if he's in the party even if he's not the active character. I'm going to list out all of them because I like digging through the dialogue files, but obviously Minsc and Jaheira have the most relevant things to say about each.

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Starting with "A Mailed Fist":

Narrator: A mailed fist in the Firecam armor style. RAKHA: Gorgeous mail on that fist. ASTARION: A mailed fist, for all your punching needs. LAE'ZEL: A mailed fist? Brutal indeed, but I prefer weapons with a more elegant profile. GALE: The mailed fist of a paladin of Torm. No doubt many felt the steely grip of its wearer's righteous justice. SHADOWHEART: A mailed fist. There must be a story behind this. WYLL: A mailed fist? Great for a paladin. Not so much for a warlock. KARLACH: Nice mail. HALSIN: A mailed fist. What tale does this have to tell? MINTHARA: A mailed fist - an inelegant but brutal weapon. JAHEIRA: Keldorn Firecam. He tried to teach Minsc much - a happy thing, that paladins are so patient. MINSC: Keldorn Firecam! He spoke much of honor and faith, but he fought like a berserker when it counted.

Keldorn! In this worldstate he traveled with Caden for a little bit and was a good mentor to the young Bhaalspawn for a time - although Caden eventually forced him to stay home and fix his marital problems. XD

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Next, "A Turnip":

Narrator: A humble turnip, preserved by drying. RAKHA: Huh. Dinner? ASTARION: It's - it's a turnip. Just a turnip, for all to see. LAE'ZEL: A turnip. Or is it a swede? Could never tell them apart. GALE: A humble vegetable depicted amongst such adventurous company. That is a turnip for the books. SHADOWHEART: A turnip? Not the most exciting of keepsakes. WYLL: A turnip. That's, er, something all right. KARLACH: All right, explain the turnip. HALSIN: A turnip? Not my favorite of nature's root vegetables, I must admit. MINTHARA: Is this animal, mineral, or fungus? I have not seen its like before. JAHEIRA: Jan Jansen. I admired his respect for growing things. Less so, his disregard for his own ripe smell. MINSC: Jan. A strange little man, but a fine friend. I can forgive him his love of turnips.

LOL. Of the five past companions represented here, Jan is the only one Caden never traveled with. He witnessed the little gnome getting carted off to prison early in the game, promptly decided that was something well worth minding his own business about, and never followed up further.

Also holy shit, that world-class pun from Gale out of nowhere.

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"A Warhammer":

Narrator: A worn but still capable warhammer, sized for a halfling. RAKHA: What a hammer. Looks like it has a history, too. ASTARION: Ah, a warhammer. A beautifully messy weapon. LAE'ZEL: Quite the warhammer. I imagine it's crushed more than a few skulls. GALE: No ordinary warhammer. Carved with the Luiric symbol for the number three. I wonder why. SHADOWHEART: It must take quite some brawn to wield a warhammer like that. WYLL: A warhammer like this cracks your skull, and you won't ever be the same after. KARLACH: Oh, wow. I bet that can do some real damage. HALSIN: An impressive hammer. MINTHARA: This hammer could shatter even the thickest of skulls. JAHEIRA: Mazzy Fentan. A living lesson not to trade tankards with a halfling; they have much less distance to fall. MINSC: Mazzy Fentan. Hah - not even the gods dared deny her when she sought to become a paladin!

Mazzy! Definitely Caden's favorite of the "flex slot" companions he traveled with in BG2. She was a super fierce halfling and wasn't officially a paladin but wanted to be. Nice to hear that maybe she reached that pinnacle in the end. :) (And LOL Jaheira.)

I'm not sure what the significance is of Gale's comment about the number three, and Google is unrevealing.

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"A Pair of Wings":

Narrator: A woodcarving of a pair of wings, like an eagle's but longer somehow. RAKHA: A pair of wings. ASTARION: Some discarded... wings? All right... LAE'ZEL: A pair of wings... GALE: The sylvan pinions of an Avariel. No easy task to capture their hollow delicacy in stone. SHADOWHEART: Wings? Who did these belong to? WYLL: A pair of wings? Hm. KARLACH: Some... wings? HALSIN: A pair of wings? MINTHARA: Wings. Were these plucked from some unfortunate celestial? JAHEIRA: Aerie's wings. She didn't need them, in the end. MINSC: Aerie. A brave avariel, who agreed to be my witch while I needed. She went in search of new wings.

Haha, the whole Act 1 gang is pretty befuddled by this one apparently. (And it seems like there might have been some confusion among the writers about whether they were carved wings or real ones.)

But awwww, yay, Aerie! Jaheira's comment on her is very sweet. :3 In this worldstate, of course, Aerie is safely in Faenya-Dail with her husband Caden and (by this point) several generations worth of descendents. I choose to believe that Minsc is speaking in a poetic metaphor, and the new wings Aerie went in search of were those of her son Quayle. :)

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And finally... the "Cracked Wooden Mask":

Narrator: A cracked wooden mask with female features, in the Rashemi style. RAKHA: Nice mask. What's the story here? ASTARION: A wooden mask. Not bad, but it's seen better days. LAE'ZEL: A wooden mask, perhaps of some cultural significance? GALE: A wychlaran face veil, worn by powerful witches in the Urlingwood wilds of Rashemen. The adornment of a skilled spell-weaver. SHADOWHEART: A wooden mask. Looks old. WYLL: A wooden mask - the sort worn by Rashemen's witches. KARLACH: Nice wooden mask. HALSIN: A wooden mask. For what purpose? MINTHARA: This mask is beautiful. I envy the one who had the authority to wear it. JAHEIRA: Hah. Even the wychlaran's mask could not hide Dynaheir's beauty - nor dull her daggered eyes. MINSC: All over Rashemen, they raised statues to Dynaheir. But this is Minsc's true monument to her - her wychlara mask.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. <3 <3 Dynaheir. <3 Minsc is such a good, loyal boy.

I love that Gale was able to clock the significance of all of these items (except the turnip) on sight. Wyll picks up on this one too which is interesting; wonder if a Rashemi envoy or two came through Wyrm's Rock when he was younger.

-----

All in all I'm a big feels puddle about all of this. I love that (more or less by chance) these are almost all characters that Caden did indeed hang out with extensively in the past games. And it is very bittersweet to see Minsc, who had the past ripped away from him by force, clinging on to these little remnants of it - particularly pieces of his past witches - with all of his strength.

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

As promised here we have part 8.2! Initially I was thinking we would be nearing the end of this sweet little series, but there was so much more I wanted to add to this part and didn’t get to quite yet so, we may have a bit more to look forward to. Thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this update and sent me encouraging messages 🥰

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash for the babes

Warnings and tags: 18+ only here! Adult themes including: mentions of previous partner death, mentions of marital problems, little bit of angst and jealousy, brief smoking, smut including: sexy stuff in the car, oral, m/m sex, dad Jake, uncle Danny, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 7.2k

Vacation Day 3 - Graduation

By Wednesday Jake felt like he’d gotten a little behind in preparing for Luna’s kindergarten graduation. Danny was a welcome respite from the monotony of everyday life, and Jake honestly would have probably cut his vacation short and gone back to work by now if he hadn’t been so otherwise preoccupied with the company.

Josh had assured him that he didn’t need to prepare anything for the party tonight. It was just going to be a small get together at Josh and his partner's home, but Jake knew his brother’s definition of demure was vastly different than his own.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Jake asked Danny as he got ready to leave that morning. Danny had some things to tend to at the shop today that he wanted to get done before the graduation started, and then he was having an early dinner with Emma and their family before ultimately meeting back up with Jake at the party.

“I can’t wait to meet everyone” Danny assured him, a soft smile on his face as he cupped Jake’s in his palms. Jake had his arms wrapped tightly around Danny’s waist, not willing to let him go just yet.

“I thought one Kiszka was enough for you, are you sure you’re ready for three?” Jake raised an eyebrow, partially trying to warn Danny about what he was getting himself into tonight, and partially wanting to scare him into ditching the party so he could keep him all to himself.

“They’re your brothers,” Danny chuckled, granting Jake one quick kiss to the tip of his nose, “I’m sure they have plenty of cute stories about when you were kids”.

Jake finally let Danny go, moving to the edge of his bed to slip his boots on so he could take Luna to her last day of school for the year. “In that case let me call Josh and threaten him to keep his mouth shut”.

“Come on baby, don’t be that way” Danny’s infectious smile was still spread across his face when he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jake’s lips next. “I’ll see you tonight. Tell Luna I said to brush in circles”.

Jake rolled his eyes, but his own smile worked its way into full bloom as he stood and walked Danny to the door before going to wake his daughter up.

After getting Luna to school Jake headed back home alone. There were dishes in the sink from dinner last night, and a leftover pizza box from the night before waiting to go out with the rest of the trash. In the study, Jake pulled out his work laptop, checking in on some things he’d left others to take care of while he was out of the office. Thankfully his email box wasn’t overflowing with important messages, so he sent a few follow up replies before turning his attention to the array of musical instruments lined up on the far wall.

Jake still played pretty regularly, mostly just old covers he’d learned when he was teaching himself the guitar, but nothing original in a while. His joy in music had never faded. It still grounded him to feel the weight of an instrument in his hands and lap, smell the dirt and sweat that had seeped into the wood from years of heavy use as its body was warmed against his own, and feel the way his fingertips buzzed with the vibrations of the strings he strummed.

He selected a particular piece from the mix, an acoustic he hadn’t touched in a while, the one he’d used to write his last album with his wife. It needed some tuning, but once he got everything right where it needed to be, it sang just as beautifully as the last day he’d heard it.

Jake started with something he played well and often, its notes just muscle memory at this point. Before long though new notes started flowing freely, a song never heard before but one Jake felt intimately familiar with somehow. He closed his eyes and rocked in motion with the melody, the steady pulsating in his chest the beat that kept him in slow fluid tempo. There wasn’t much to it yet, just a few lines of chords he played over again until they sounded like they could eventually be something if he kept at it, but when tears started to fall from his eyes he gave up and quietly set the guitar back in its resting place.

Jake hadn’t written anything new in years, having lost his muse, his love, but now it came to him so naturally, like his heart was vying to speak for itself again.

“Jake! Over here!” Emma’s mom called out to catch his attention as Jake’s eyes scanned the small cafeteria set up with rows of chairs as a makeshift auditorium. “It’s good to see you. How have things been?” She stood up to greet him with a hug like she hadn’t seen him just over a week ago before his vacation started. Well she knew with Danny not being at her house exactly where that meant he was, so her question was mostly just a shot in the dark at getting some news on how they had been.

“I’m doing great” he smiled, hugging her back and taking the seat she had saved. Her husband sat next to her, and he exchanged polite formalities like he always did with Jake before turning his attention back to the small mobile stage.

“Danny went to the restroom, he should be back any second now” she leaned over and whispered to Jake as he stared at the empty seat between them.

“No worries, I figured he was around” Jake casually replied. “How have you been?” He found it difficult trying to maintain the appearance of being completely unaware about her situation with her husband. She on the other hand did an excellent job of fooling everyone into believing things were right as rain with her hand wrapped tightly around her husbands.

“Oh you know how busy we are. Sometimes I can hardly recall what’s left from right or what’s up and what’s down, but we’re healthy and I’m going to be taking a break soon”.

“Really?” Jake was interested to hear more, it had been a while since he’d truly caught up with her and he hoped that maybe if their friendship was still as strong as it was before she would be able to find some solace in confiding in him.

They would have to catch up later though, as Danny arrived. When Jake turned to see him, he was completely awestruck by his appearance being completely different than when he’d last seen him just this morning. His hair looked fresh and glossy, maybe just an hour from the shower probably to clean up after being at the shop. The sweatpants and tank tops Jake had grown accustomed to seeing Danny in these past few days were replaced with a pair of fitted jeans and a black shirt with a high color that made the gold chain he wore around his neck pop even in the dim fluorescent lighting. His eyes were lined with black, and Jake noticed how long his lashes looked in comparison even with having fallen asleep to counting each individual one.

“Everything alright?” Danny asked, mistaking Jake’s wide eyed expression as having to do with being left alone with his sister. His eyes flickered over to his sister's husband who sat ignorantly unaware of the judgment being passed over to him in invisible daggers.

“Excellent” Jake muttered, turning to the side in his seat so Danny could squeeze past him and take his own. Once in place, Danny leaned over and whispered something to his sister that made her unclasp her hand and sit up in her seat. Jake was curious of the interaction, but his suspicions were put to rest when the principal entered the room and called for everyone's attention.

Luna and Emma’s class was the last to take the stage, and when Jake saw his little girl walk across and claim her gimmicky piece of cardstock he stood and clapped as loud as he could alone.

-

Danny pulled up to the house that barred the same address that Jake had text to him earlier that day. He was sure he had the right place because of the extra cars parked in the driveway, one of them he’d easily recognized as being Jake’s, but he hadn’t expected such an extravagant house.

It was the most beautiful one on the block, white washed brick with teak beams and shudders, large lights in intricate wrought iron sconces and a matching chandelier over the porch. The archway at the front of the porch was overgrown with a vine that was blooming with thousands of star shaped white flowers.

Danny could tell that whichever bother lived here maintained his property nicely and kept up appearances. A sudden nervousness started to bubble in his gut, maybe Jake was right this morning. Was he really prepared to face whatever surprises laid waiting in this gorgeous home?

“Nice bike” a stranger called out to Danny as he set the kickstand down and pulled his helmet off, running his fingers through his roots to make sure his curls were fluffed out enough.

“Thanks” Danny’s eyes scoured the direction he heard the voice come from, the sun setting in the distance behind him casting his and a mix of shadows between the cars and across the yard. Finally his vision came into focus on a tall man standing at the edge of the driveway, a comfortable slouch in his shoulders with one hand tucked into the front pocket of his loose fitting slacks and a half smoked cigarette dangling between the fingers of his other.

“Want a hit?” He asked Danny when he saw him eyeing his cigarette, lifting his hand that held the nearly burned out butt.

“Thanks” Danny accepted the offer, inhaling the smoke through the filter and turning his head to let it blow with the wind, feeling a bit of his jitters slowly start to subside with the influx of nicotine into his system. “I think I’m going to need that”.

“I’m Sam” he introduced himself with a chuckle as he took the cigarette back, gave it one last pull, and stomped it out on the pavement. “You must be Jake’s date”.

“Daniel Wagner” Danny introduced himself, internally confused about why he’d randomly used his full name, but continuing to go with it nonetheless.

“Daniel” Sam nodded, his eyes glancing back towards Danny’s bike. “Is that a Honda?”

“Yeah” Danny breathed out a sigh of relief as he glanced back over his shoulder at the glossy black body. Hopefully knowing now that he and Sam had a bit in common there would be one more person other than Jake he would be able to mingle with. “You know your motorcycles?”

“I know a little bit. Surprised you got Jake on that though, he’s no fun anymore”.

I’m surprised I’ve got Jake at all, Danny thought to himself, a flash of memories from the last two days bringing a warm smile to his face.

“Come on, I’ll show you where everyone’s at” Sam waved Danny along to follow him inside.

The interior of the house was even more spectacular than the outside with its high ceilings and cream colored walls holding a multitude of different pieces of artwork.

“This place is really nice” Danny commented out loud as he scanned the rooms they passed by on their way to the backyard, his eyes growing extra wide when he got a glance into the wide kitchen with its island still covered in food.

“Josh and his partner run a gallery downtown,” Sam revealed, a detail Danny had yet to learn about Jake’s notorious twin. Jake had explained a little about his brothers to Danny during their time together, but most things about them were still a mystery. “Sometimes this place can feel a bit like a gallery too in my modest opinion”.

“Sammy!” A few voices cheered when they stepped outside onto a raised stone patio complete with an outside kitchenette and bar. “Who’s this you have here?”

“This is Daniel” Sam stepped aside and Danny could see another smaller man standing with a drink in his hand.

“Just Danny is good actually” he corrected this time, easing towards the small group who had gathered together, all interested in getting a look at the most recent addition to the party.

“Glad you could finally join us!” Josh chimed, throwing an arm around Danny’s shoulder and giving it a welcome squeeze. “I see you’ve met Sam. I’m Josh, the most good looking Kiszka of the bunch”.

“Hey!” Sam called out from behind now.

“Right, Josh” Danny grinned, unable to take his eyes off of Josh as he studied each tiny difference between him and Jake. He’d been told that Josh was his twin, Jake had even agreed to show some pictures when Danny didn’t believe him, but seeing him in person was even more jarring than the likeness from the images he’d seen on Jake’s cell phone screen. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Sam was telling me that you have an art gallery? That’s impressive!”

“Oh, not as impressive as Sammy over here”. Josh called Sam over and the three of them moved somewhere they could chat alone. At the edge of the patio Danny looked out into the yard and saw that there was a modest pool, surrounded by a gate with metal working that complimented that out front. “He’s the computer engineer” Josh pointed out before taking a sip of his cup.

“Wow, where’d you study at?” Danny questioned intently, trying to soak up as much knowledge during their meeting as he could.

“Ummm,” Sam uttered before he spoke, he seemed a little more modest when talking about himself, “Harvard”.

“Harvard?” Danny nearly choked on his own spit, definitely feeling now like he was surrounded by super successful brilliant super brothers. An art collector, computer engineer, and then there was Jake the artist turned businessman whom he already thought was too good to be true. “Jesus”.

“Danny!” Jake’s familiar soothing voice finally made its way into the conversation as he found the three of them huddled together. “Why didn’t you guys tell me he made it?” Jake asked when he joined the group, shooting sharp looks at both his brothers.

“We were just getting acquainted” Danny explained to him, instinctively reaching around to place his hand at Jake’s hip. “So Sam’s a Harvard graduate?”

“Oh. Right” Jake replied, leaning into Danny’s side a little as he looked over at his younger brother.

“Well, did you study anywhere?” Sam asked Danny next, trying to keep the flow going now that Jake had joined.

“Actually I’m a University of Michigan drop out” Danny replied, a bit of self mocking in his tone, though he wasn’t actually ashamed to admit he’d never graduated college. “I’ve tried a few jobs here and there but body work is what’s stuck with me. School was just… too much book work I guess”. In reality there was a lot more to it. Jake was fully aware of his struggles with his family in the past which was the fuel fire for him up and dropping his life before, but he figured he didn’t need to get into that right now, especially at a party.

“I learned I’m much better with my hands, Jake knows”.

“Oh is that right?” Josh snickered and Jake’s expression turned to one like a deer caught in headlights, his thoughts taking him somewhere else entirely than what Danny had meant by ‘being good with his hands’.

“He’s seen my projects at the shop” Danny continued, subtly squeezing his fingers into Jake’s hip with a knowing smirk. Oh, he’d probably get some hell for that later but he welcomed it anyways.

“You resorted that bike out there? It looked good” Sam asked and Danny nodded. “I’d love to take it for a spin sometime. If you’re okay with that”.

“Of course!” Danny agreed- a little too eagerly for Jake’s liking.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that” Jake scoffed and muttered under his breath, though everyone still heard him clearly. Danny’s smile slowly faded as he gauged the atmosphere, realizing Jake wasn’t in the playful mood he’d been in before.

Sam ignored Jake’s snarky comment, continuing to talk freely as he and Danny went back and forth about computer mechanics in engines, something about engine control units in different models that had Danny growing in excitement the more Sam went on.

Josh made eye contact with Jake, both knowing they had lost the other two in their own conversation. Jake placed his hand on Danny’s chest to get his attention for a second so he could excuse himself, and he followed Josh back into the house.

They checked on Luna whom he’d left with Josh’s partner. She was still completely invested in building a racetrack with the legos and toy cars Josh had found at their parents house from their childhood and brought home for when his Lunbug came to visit.

“Seems Sam and Danny are getting along swimmingly” Josh commented, getting Jake’s attention again.

Jake shot him a sideways look, holding his tongue so he wouldn’t sound like the ass who didn’t want his brother to get along so well with his boyfriend.

“This is a good thing” he added, watching Jake’s expression turn from annoyed, to worried, then softened as he realized Josh was of course right.

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like it took me so long to find someone I could share myself with again. My true self that I’ve had locked away for so long that even I was afraid I wouldn’t get to be him again. Now that Danny and I have been spending more time together I get weary that since I’ve opened up to him the challenge has been taken away and he will get restless with me”.

With Jake willingly exposing his feelings for once, Josh played the devil's advocate with him, hoping he could do some work to put his brother's mind at ease. “Does Danny seem like the type of guy to behave that way? I certainly didn’t get that impression by the way he lit up when you joined us”.

“No he doesn’t” Jake admit. If he’d gotten that impression of Danny he would have never let it get this far to begin with. “You know how my head works though”.

“I know you’re afraid of losing people” Josh quietly remarked, “especially the ones you love the most”.

Jake looked taken aback now, like he hadn't expected Josh to read him so easily. But then again who was he talking to if not his other half?

“Are you?” Josh asked, though Jake was unclear about what exactly he meant. “Are you in love with him?”

“I think it's still a little early to know that” Jake tried to deflect, not giving an outright yes or no answer.

“You’ve been in love before Jake. You know what it’s like to be stricken with someone. To lose all sense of reality around them, learn yourself through them in a way you never thought you were capable of”. As Josh spoke his eyes flickered over to his partner who was watching over Luna with a carefree smile.

“Ok Casanova” Jake teased, grinning at the way Josh’s face flushed when he realized he was staring at his fiancé.

“I know you’re just as much of a helpless romantic as I am” Josh knocked Jake’s shoulder with his own, “we can’t help it, it’s who we are”.

After snacking on some more of the food in the kitchen Jake, Josh and their respective counterparts Luna and Josh’s partner followed them back outside. Jake brought Danny a plate to try some of the fruit knowing he had already had dinner, and Danny had managed to find a drink from the outside cooler while he was gone.

“I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you earlier” Danny mentioned after Josh introduced him to his partner. “I heard next spring is the big date?”

“We’re thinking destination wedding” Josh revealed, wrapping his arm around his partner’s back and resting his head against their shoulder. “But we will still have something to celebrate here too”.

“When were you going to tell me this?” Jake spoke up. When he imagined Josh’s wedding he pictured something grand and luxurious with at least a hundred of their friends and family as witness, not him being somewhere across the globe without any of them there to help should things go awry. He remembered how much Josh had helped at his own wedding, as was his responsibility being his best man, and Jake had been looking forward to repaying the favor.

“Oh don’t worry Jakey, you will still get to be best man at Sammy’s wedding” Josh chuckled, making Sam nearly spit his drink out.

“My what?” Sam replied dumbfoundedly.

“Oh come on Sam, you can’t remain a bachelor forever. Even Jake has gotten back out there”. Josh bit his tongue when he saw Jake slightly recoil at his words. He hadn’t meant any harm from it, just their normal brotherly banter, but clearly it was still too soon to be making those jokes.

“What about you Danny?” Sam turned everyone’s attention to Jake’s guest who had up until now stayed quiet while they went back and forth. “Do you want to get married someday?”

“Not really” Danny answered honestly. A silence settled over them, no one really knowing what to say now that the conversation had seemed to take a downward turn. “I mean I don’t really see the point in it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for you guys and wish you all the luck in the world, but I just don’t think marriage is for me”.

“See, I’m not the only one” Sam pipped up.

“Well Sammy boy we’ve got to find someone willing to put up with you for more than a few hours first”. Josh continued ragging, though he kept a close eye on Jake who seemed stiff.

“I’m going to go check on Luna” Jake mumbled before slipping away again.

Jake tried to mind his own business while Danny and Sam clung to each other for most of the night, talking and laughing with each other like they had known one another for years. It irritated him to no end, but he didn’t let it show on his face lest Josh give him a talking to again. Instead he just stood idly by watching Luna bounce from person to person at the party.

Danny made eye contact with him a couple of times throughout the evening, and Jake merely looked away, finding something else to pretend being more entertained with rather than watching his every move.

“Daddy, I’m tired” Luna came to Jake, rubbing her eyes and fighting off a yawn.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, do you want to go lay down?” Jake reached over and scooped her up into his arms, immediately forgetting all he had on his mind to ease her. She laid her head down on his shoulder and he carried her off back in the house then into one of the spare bedrooms where it was much more quiet.

It wasn’t too late in the evening, but Luna had a full day so her exhaustion wasn’t without proper cause. He laid her down in the bed, making sure she was nice and comfy and sat in the chair next to the window until she was quickly fast asleep.

Jake snuck out, softly shutting the door behind him so as not to disturb his daughter's rest, and meandered through the house until he found himself in the living room. Sitting alone on the couch as if he was waiting for Jake to join him, Josh turned around.

“Hey” Jake spoke as he came around the side of the white leather.

“Hey” Josh repeated, waiting for the other to sit. When Jake stayed standing though, picking at the skin on his finger, Josh stood as well. “You know I was only trying to give Sam a hard time earlier right?”

“I know” Jake bit the inside of his cheek, “it’s alright. You don’t have to worry about it. I’m fine”. His words were short, strained, but he tried to sound sincere. Honestly, what Josh had said really hadn’t affected him so much. At least not compared to what Danny had unexpectedly said later.

“Thanks for the party Josh, Luna had a really good time”.

“Is she out cold somewhere?”

“Yeah, spare bedroom. I’ll go get her when we’re ready to leave”.

Josh folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No it’s alright, let her sleep. She can stay with us, I miss that little hellraiser. You should bring her swimsuit over tomorrow so we can use the pool once more before the weather turns bad”.

“Are you sure?” Jake pressed, but Josh placed his hand on his shoulder before he could talk him out of it.

“Just leave her booster seat with us. We’ll probably go get some breakfast near the gallery in the morning”.

Jake sat in the backseat of his car after switching the seat to Josh’s, in the dark trying to recenter himself before rejoining the party when a rap against the window startled him. Danny was leaned over peering through the other side with an apprehensive look to his face, and Jake slid over in the seat to give him room to join him inside.

“Is everything alright?” Danny asked after a few moments of silence in the still, muggy air trapped there in the car with them.

“Yeah, Josh offered to keep Luna for the night. She’s already passed out in one of the bedrooms. I was just leaving him her booster seat” Jake recounted so that way he didn’t seem like a loser for just sitting in his car alone.

“I feel like I might’ve said something stupid back there to make you upset with me”. Danny blurted out, thinking Jake was purposely trying to get away from him.

“I’m not upset with you” Jake sighed, his shoulders moving with his chest as his warm breath added to the mix inside. “You’re entitled to knowing what it is you do and do not want for your future. You’re still young, there’s so much more in life for you than settling down somewhere”.

“I wasn’t saying I was opposed to settling down, or committing to someone for a long time” Danny tried to explain himself to Jake, though he was feeling more and more discouraged since Jake hadn’t even looked at him yet. “I was just saying we don’t always have to be defined by society’s standards. I want to be happy, and I don’t feel like I should have to build my life around contracts that at the end of the day don’t even mean anything to the people who don’t honor their word. Actions define a man and I’ll always be there to support my significant other whether or not we’ve gone to a courthouse to sign a piece of paper”.

To Danny, marriage had always been a way to tie someone down, make them conform to the image like the one his parents saw for him. Then there was his sister, her own marriage at the brink of collapse to further put a damper on his idea of the sacrament.

“It’s not the paper that matters, or even the rings” Jake argued, getting worked up all over again as he reached up to clutch at his bare chest, the chain that had hung there for so long now gone, back at home tucked safely away in a drawer. “It’s the joining of two families, the vow you make to one another… to death do you part”.

Danny could tell that he’d struck a nerve with Jake. He knew that he was close with his family, and getting to meet them tonight had only put that further into perspective for him. He panicked for a second, thinking maybe he should just give him a little space again, or go find Josh since he apparently always knew what to say to make Jake feel better.

Then Jake finally looked at him. His eyes were so filled with pleading for Danny to do something to assure him that he wasn’t crazy to feel this way that Danny without second hesitation reached over and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to pull the smaller man into his embrace. “I’m right here Jake, I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that”. He kissed the top of Jake’s head once, “you have my heart” another kiss to his forehead, “my body” the next kiss was on the bridge of his nose, “and my soul”.

He waited before kissing Jake again, staring into those downturned eyes and swimming in the darkness of his irises. Jake made the next move, driving forward into the kiss he so desperately wanted. As the kiss quickly deepened Jake moved closer, his hands finding the button to Danny’s pants and popping it open. Jake slipped his hand between the opening he created and the thin cotton of Danny’s boxers and started to palm at his length causing Danny to slide down in the seat to give him better access.

Jake’s movements were rushed. It was late, and dark especially behind the tinted windows of his car, and he didn’t expect anyone to be out wandering around Josh’s quiet neighborhood at this hour. He wanted to get this done though before anyone from the party noticed the both of them were gone for too long and ultimately came looking for them.

Jake turned and slipped into the floorboard, his body twisted at the waist and folded over Danny’s lap. There was a knee in his side, but he ignored the uncomfortable position for a while as he instead focused on freeing Danny’s length and pressing his lips to his overwarm tip. Danny inhaled a sharp breath, anticipating what it was Jake was preparing to do.

“Let’s get something straight first” Jake nipped next, making Danny groan and stiffen even more. “I’m going to give you this, then we’re going to go say goodbye to everyone and when we get home you’re going to fuck me”.

“Hmm,” Danny sounded like he was considering his offer. “So the brat gets what the brat wants then?”

Jake scoffed, he was obviously referring to the attitude he’d had earlier. “Unless you would rather stay and talk to Sam?” He squeezed his fist tighter around the base of Danny’s cock, making him squirm in the seat as he tried to buck upwards in chase of Jake’s mouth.

Danny threaded his fingers through Jake’s hair at the crown of his head and gave him a gentle yet direct push. “No baby, I want you”.

Satisfied with his answer, Jake opened his mouth and took Danny inside, letting the hand in his hair guide him up and down.

“That’s good Jake, just like that” Danny praised him, letting his head fall back against the seats as his fingers worked to massage Jake’s scalp.

Despite the confidence in his words Jake didn’t feel much confident in his skill here. He’d given Danny head once before, on a lazy afternoon without much expectation, but now he worked to get him off quickly. So Jake tried to emulate all the moves Danny had done on him. He hollowed his cheeks, flattening his tongue around his girth, and took him in as far as he could.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Danny groaned, pulling the ropey strands of Jake’s hair that were trapped in his firm grip. Jake looked up through his lashes, his eyes pointed and narrowed to answer him. “Yeah? You are aren’t you”.

Jake only sucked harder, feeling the way Danny twitched wildly on his tongue. It was a comforting feeling, to have such power over someone with just the warmth of your mouth. “Show me Jake. Show me who I belong to”.

Danny moaned loudly, and Jake even hoped that maybe someone had passed by for long enough to hear him. The windows of the backseat were fogged over, and Jake could feel a line of sweat start to form on his brow when Danny’s breaths started to come out unevenly.

When he came Jake swallowed him down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Danny grabbed him by the wrist of that hand and nearly yanked him from the floorboard back into his lap so he could smash their mouths together, searching for a taste before it was gone.

Danny followed Jake home on his bike, pulling into the same place in his driveway that he’d remained parked since the beginning of this week. Jake was quiet as he approached his front steps, waiting for Danny to be at his side when he punched in the passcode to the front door and they both entered together.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked, recalling the first night Danny had stayed over. How they had attached themselves together right here in his foyer and he had to slow things down a bit under the guise of being a good host. He had the same nervous energy as before, but this time he was filled with more determination than fear.

“Can I save that offer for after?” Danny replied as he wrapped his arms around Jake’s waist from behind. “I don’t think I can wait much longer to have you”.

Jake turned around in his hold, placing his forehead against Danny’s chest to hide the flush in his cheeks. The wait had been long, and Jake felt like he was more than ready to make this final leap to the last step. He wanted Danny, more than he wanted anything in a long time, but first there was something he needed to say.

“Danny” his voice came out in a breathy exhale, and he looked up to meet his gaze. “Tonight,” he began, making Danny’s brows scrunch together in a brooding furrow thinking Jake was still vexed with him.

Jake reached upward and cupped Danny’s jaw, he didn’t want him to worry, but he had to get this out. “Tonight was the first time I felt like you weren’t perfect”.

Danny opened his mouth to speak, apologize again for speaking out of line, but Jake shushed him with a gentle swipe of his thumb across his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for the pen to drop, for all of this to come crashing down on me, but now-”

“Now?” Danny pushed when Jake failed to find the words to explain the rampant storm of vehemence building within him like a typhoon on the horizon.

“Now” Jake nodded, his other hand coming up to wrap around Danny’s neck and pull him closer. He let his lips brush against Danny’s, feeling the way just that light touch pulled his breath right from his very being. “Now Danny, take me to bed”.

Danny kissed at the delicious little concave of skin in the space between his hip and groin, Jake’s sweet moans filling the room with each call of his fingers deep inside him.

“Danny please” Jake begged, his hips starting to grind in time with Danny’s movements in search of what he was missing. “More, I need you, now”.

Danny kissed him once more, sucking a matching red mark into the pattern of colorful bruises he’d left all along Jake’s lower abdomen as he dutifully made sure he was prepped to take him.

“No need to ask, I’m right here” Danny called back to him as he sat up to retrieve the bottle of lube. He positioned himself between Jake’s legs, pausing for a moment to admire his work that lay in a puddle beneath him, eyes closed but body open and accepting.

“Keep your eyes closed” Danny’s voice came out in a whisper that formed in the air all around Jake, like a long lived ghost that haunted him in his sleep. He positioned himself right where he needed to be, and slowly inched forward until he was nearly half way there.

“Fuck Danny, is that you?” Jake balled the silky sheets into his fists to hold all his tension there and keep the rest of his body loose and relaxed.

“That’s me baby, I’m here with you. I’m inside you” Danny groaned as he waited to let Jake adjust to the extra stretch his fingers could not quite prepare him for.

“I feel so full” Jake whimpered next, his breaths coming out long with short pulls of air back into his tight chest.

“Just a little more, I’m almost there”. Danny pushed in further, holding Jake by the hip with one hand and the other hooked underneath one of his knees to keep him steady.

When Danny bottomed out Jake let out a sigh of relief, letting his grip go and blindly feeling around until he found strong arms to cling onto instead. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes Jake, open your eyes”.

Jake grinned when his focus came too and he saw none other than Danny hovering above him, his Danny. “Hi”.

“Hi” Danny chuckled back, his hand on Jake’s knee leaving to reach forward and move a stray strand of hair from his face so that his view wouldn’t be obstructed in any way. Jake chased his touch with his mouth, kissing at Danny’s palm until he moved lower, trailing his fingers down the sails of Jake’s warm ivory torso.

Danny wrapped his hand around Jake’s length, but Jake quickly pushed him away with a groan. “Not yet, I just want to feel you”.

“Now?” Danny asked, checking once again to make sure Jake was ready.

Jake nodded and Danny started to move, slowly at first until he was able to build a steady pace they could both withstand. He refused to close his eyes again, afraid he’d miss any of the beautiful expressions Danny made when fucking him for the first time.

“Can I go harder Jake? Fuck, please tell me I can go harder I’m losing it over here you feel so fucking good”. Danny rambled, fighting the urge to just uncage the animal he had, up until now, been able to keep at bay. His control was slipping though, just as fast as his hips thrust into the warmth that Jake’s body offered him.

“Kiss me first” Jake requested, a fire burning so deep in his eyes they turned black as coals.

Danny obliged, dropping his grip to lean over and cup Jake’s face as their mouths crashed together, teeth biting into lip and tongues dancing with passion.

Jake tugged on Danny’s hair when he’d had his fill, turning his head to speak directly into Danny’s ear. “Fuck me as hard as you want. Give me all you’ve got”.

With his permission, Danny pulled upright again and gave one hard thrust, testing the waters of Jake’s physical limits. First was the sound of skin snapping against skin, high pitched and sharp, and Jake’s face pinched in a way that Danny nearly crumpled down so he could kiss the pain away. Then came the moan, low and guttural as Jake arched his back off the bed.

“Again, Danny!” Jake cried out, his hands returning to gripping the sheets only so that he wouldn’t claw through Danny’s skin.

Danny started again, his new pace slower but harder as the muscles in his lower body worked to control his thrusts, and before he knew it the intensity was growing, swirling and burning within him like an underground fire that wouldn’t be extinguished for years to come.

Jake knew Danny could make him cum this way, all it would take would be a few pulls on his aching abandoned cock and he’d be thrown overboard, but he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.

“Lay down” he directed now, having to repeat himself when Danny slowed after seeing the words formed on Jake’s mouth, but not hearing or registering what he’d said. “Lay down”.

The trade in position was quick, Danny moving to his back as soon as he understood what was being asked of him, and Jake climbed on to connect them again. He sank down slowly, savoring each and every inch Danny had to offer him before he began to rock his hips.

“Oh my god” Danny squeezed Jake’s plush hips, helping him grind harder as he threw his head back into the pillows. “You’re gonna break me Jacob Kiszka”.

Jake felt like he was the one about to be broken though, his body already weak and trembling, but when Danny’s tip nudged against that special place deep within him he knew he still had the strength left to make this last a little longer.

So he braced his hands on Danny’s chest and lifted his hips, coming back down into that exact same spot each time until Jake felt like he was just about ready to fall apart entirely.

“Tell me again Danny” he panted as he worked to get them both to their end. “Tell me who you belong to”.

“Yours, I’m all yours” Danny answered, no doubt in his sincerity even as he was fighting to hold it together.

“Good” Jake replied, “then make me cum”.

Danny was more than happy to appease him, eagerly spitting into his palm and wrapping it around Jake’s length- especially with his own orgasm on the horizon.

Jake came first, hot spurts of his release coating Danny’s stomach and chest just as Danny finally let go himself. Spent and tired beyond belief, Jake collapsed onto the bed next to his lover, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“You good?” Danny turned over, eyes scanning all over Jake’s glistening body for any signs of actual harm, even though he knew Jake had to be alright.

“I’m good” Jake pulled on a dopey smile, wanting nothing more than to curl up into Danny’s arms and go to sleep. It was too hot right now though, and they were in desperate need of a shower after that grand finale.

“I think I might’ve over done it a little on my first go” he admit, feeling the ache already setting into his lower back, and not feeling much of his legs at all.

Danny chuckled, though he was very thankful for all the effort. “You think so?”

“Maybe, but I don’t half ass things”.

“Oh I know,” Danny replied just as he scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Jake’s waist to grab a handful of cheek, “I’ve got the whole ass here as proof”.

Jake pushed against his chest with a roll of his eyes and a flush on his face, staggering a little as he stood up from the bed.

“Shower?” Danny asked, glancing down at the mess across his chest with a happy smirk.

“Together?” Jake responded, reaching his hand out.

Danny took his hand. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but one thing was for certain, he’d never not take that hand for as long as Jake still wanted to offer. “Together”.

Thanks for reading: @sanguinebats @kultavalo @lipstickitty @gracev0609 @lyndz2names

“A brat gets what a brat wants” is a line taken in reference to the lovely @scarletvanfleet whom I love 🫶

[gracesshelves]

The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams

Usually, TikTok romance books are not my thing, but The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams surprised me. I would rate this novel three out of five stars. At first, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it, but after the first hundred pages I could not put it down; at one point I was reading it at a red light on the way home from work. Some moments were a bit too cheesy for my taste, and I had a hard time relating to the characters. I think part of this is because I am definitely not the target audience for this book, which I assume is cis-het married women, most likely millennials. However, Adams was able to get me invested in the stakes of the story. I was genuinely interested in whether or not Gavin and Thea would be able to fix their relationship. Honestly, I’m glad that I did not know this book got popular off BookTok, because that would have influenced my perception of it. What I admired the most about this book was its exploration of the mental load placed on stay-at-home moms (SAHM), and how that can ruin marriages.

            The novel follows Gavin Scott, a major league baseball player, who is having marital troubles with his wife, Thea. What seems like a problem with their sex life, is actually much worse. Gavin and Thea are forced to confront parts of themselves they’ve been hiding in order to avoid getting divorced. Gavin grew on me throughout the story. At the beginning, I struggled to sympathize with him because I felt that he should’ve been able to notice that his wife was faking an orgasm. However, as he continued to apply himself and make an effort to become a better person and husband, he did not bother me so much. With the romance genre specifically, the likeability of characters is big for me. By the end of the book, Gavin passed the test. As for Thea, I thought she was very complex, and I thought the way that her trauma wasn’t just magically solved was very true to life. Unlearning thought patterns you’ve had your whole life does not just change overnight. It was important to me that she wasn’t perfect either, they were two flawed individuals, which made them more relatable.

            One thing I did struggle with was how heteronormative all the relationships were, although, I think this is due to the fact that I am not the target audience. As a queer reader, I would honestly prefer an author to avoid depicting queer characters rather than write them incorrectly, but it did make it difficult for me to empathize with some of what Gavin did. I probably would not have picked this book up on my own, even though I do enjoy romance. But on the other hand, I have read BookTok books that I disliked much more in comparison.

            Going back to what I said earlier, I appreciated how Adam’s presented the discussion of mental load, and how much work is put on women, especially SAHM’s. It could be argued that this discussion is somewhat surface level, but I think even just brushing on it is better than nothing. For most of their marriage, Thea has been raising kids by herself, and when Gavin was present, she had to attend events as a wife of a player (Adams 21). The load placed on her stood out the most when the Scott family got home from Thanksgiving. While it’s important that Gavin helps Thea clean up after the girl’s vomited, he continuously has to ask questions about where things are even though he lives there. (Adams 150-151). Thea already has a lot on her mind with cleaning the girls themselves, and by asking her that instead of looking himself, Gavin only adds to her plate. This discussion reflects the current conversations of mothers on social media. A lot of women in heterosexual relationships are speaking out online about how exhausted they are. Nowadays, many women have corporate jobs on top of being parents, but the distribution of household labor is slow to change. While some heterosexual couples have adapted and evenly split parenting and household duties, there is still a huge issue with women being expected to clean, cook, and parent on top of a nine to five. A Gallup poll found that despite an increase in equity regarding household tasks since 1990, “the division of labor in U.S. households remains largely tilted toward traditional stereotypes: Women are more likely than their husbands to take care of the house and children, and men remain the primary caretakers of the car and the yard.” (Brenan).

            If this was book wanted to be a more serious critique on relationships, I’d have a lot more issues with it, but for a light-hearted contemporary romance I think this was pretty successful.

Adams, Lyssa Kay. The Bromance Book Club. Berkley Romance, 2022.

Brenan, Megan. “Women Still Handle Main Household Tasks in U.S.” Gallup.com, Gallup Inc., 31 May 2023, news.gallup.com/poll/283979/women-handle-main-household-tasks.aspx.

[nashvillehq]

name: Brooks Feldman gender & pronouns: Cis Man | He/him age & date of birth: 29 years old | January 3rd, 1994 neighborhood: Downtown time living in nashville: 6 months occupation: Singer & Songwriter

BACKGROUND.

Hyannis is so small it isn’t even officially a town, it’s a village on the coast of Massachusetts, boasting a little over 14,000 residents. There were worse places for Brooks Feldman to be brought into the world. But with its small size, everyone knew everyone’s business. They all knew that the captain of the Barnstable fire station, Mark Feldman, and his wife Eileen had been having issues, and they thought that having another kid would solve them. There were even rumors that Brooks wasn’t his father’s son, but the product of an affair that Eileen wouldn’t admit to. But those rumors were quickly shut down when Brooks came into the world with his father’s curls and sharp blue eyes. But Brooks wasn’t the solution to their marital problems like they had hoped, and before his second birthday, Eileen was moving out, leaving Mark to raise Brooks and his older brother Ryan with the help of the village around them.

Music became a mainstay in Brooks’ life around age four. His regular babysitter, Mrs. Carrol across the street, taught piano to high school students after school. Enraptured by the sounds, Brooks sat on the floor next to the piano during Mrs. Carrol’s lessons so often that she bought him a special chair for him to sit at to listen. When he was old enough, she offered to teach him how to play for free - as the years went on, he paid her in mowing her lawn and shoveling out her driveway after snow storms - and he found an after school activity he loved. He wasn’t as athletic as his brother or his friends, so going into middle school, Mark had been worried that his youngest wouldn’t have a hobby. But then he heard Brooks play, and after that day, he was enrolled in the Hyannis middle school orchestra.

Piano was his first instrument, but Brooks found out he preferred the guitar when he was thirteen and the guys at the firehouse all pitched in and got him one for his Bar Mitzvah. Something new to try, they had all said. When Mrs Carrol got too old to look after him and he spent his afternoons at the firehouse, his father’s coworkers taught him some of their favorite songs. It was a raucous rendition of Never Going Back Again by Fleetwood Mac, where the village realized that there was a talent in their midst. Not only could he play the guitar, but his voice carried over those of the boisterous firemen until it was just his own, floating a melody into the wind, letting the small town know that he wasn’t going to be there for long.

He started taking music more seriously in high school. Filling notebooks with song lyrics that he mostly kept to himself, entering school talent shows to do covers of songs and winning whatever cash prizes they offered. He sang the national anthem at his brother’s senior year football game as a freshman, and hearing all those crowds applauding after a performance gave Brooks a feeling he hasn’t felt before. He felt at home. For a long time, Brooks felt like he didn’t belong in his little house in his little town, with his little family. From a young age he heard over and over again about how unfortunate the circumstances of his parents divorce was, and as they grew up, an upset Ryan would sometimes place the blame fully on Brooks’ shoulders. It wasn’t true, and everyone promised that he wasn’t the reason the inevitable happened, but he never shook the feeling. And he spent most of his life running himself ragged to keep everyone around him happy - to prove that he had a place in their lives, so they wouldn’t leave him behind the way their mother did.

The only time he felt at peace was when he was on stage. And he continued to chase that feeling as he started to perform music he wrote at open mic nights in town and in Boston. As his brother got recruited for the Boston University football team, Brooks was turning his back on higher education. Opting to travel to the city, to meet with music execs and offer songs he wrote to artists. It took a few months of failures and making Youtube videos of him singing them himself, but in the fall of his senior year of high school he finally sold a song. And after that, it was an avalanche. People calling him, offering to fly him across the country to meet performers, to meet execs. They wanted a piece of Brooks Feldman before he hit it big. And because he was so excited to be in a field that he wanted to be in, working with people he only ever dreamed of working with, he gave those pieces of himself. Allowing his songs to be twisted into things they never were supposed to be - acoustic guitars being replaced with synthesizers, an EDM beat underneath a song he wrote about feeling lonely.

For the first time, music wasn’t his safe space. And it took years of this back and forth, and a drunken weekend on his brother’s couch after his 21st birthday, to realize that he didn’t like what he became. But what do I do? He had no idea. He had a shitty apartment in LA, where all the musicians were, according to the execs. The heat pissed him off and he felt disconnected from the family he had back in his hometown. But sitting in his brother’s living room in Boston after a two week break for the holidays, Ryan finally set him straight. Just do what you did before. Perform it yourself. He was right. So Brooks went back to LA, packed his apartment and told the execs that he wasn’t selling his songs anymore.

They had laughed him off. Telling him that his style of music - acoustic, folksy and quiet - didn’t sell anymore. They turned their backs on him and that left Brooks terrified. But as he worked from the converted basement in his father and step mother’s house back in Hyannis, he knew he had to try. He released a quick album of songs that he kept away from the eyes of the teams in LA to get feelers out. It had been a combination of pop and folksy, leaning more toward pop, and it had done well. But it still wasn’t Brooks.

His heart was in the music that apparently was unsellable, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. So he started working on an album that could only be described as “folksy”. And the execs in LA couldn’t have been more wrong. Because on a whim, Brooks recorded himself performing one of his new songs Stick Season at a family barbecue that summer, and posted it on his social media. And days later, it was a trending sound on TikTok. After selling out a tour with an album that no one in LA thought could sell, Brooks returned home to a letter from labels out in Nashville. They knew how to sell folk records and they wanted to work with him. So once again, Brooks found himself saying goodbye to his tiny village on the coast of Massachusetts, for a city that didn’t know his name. But he had a feeling this might go better than before.

[writefightandflightclub]

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac​

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @anetteaneta​ @stardustkenobi​ @casifer-is-king​ @foxilayde​ @tlcwrites​ @aellynera​ @kindablackenedsuperhero​

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for. 

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you. 

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.” 

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.” 

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room. 

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex-  must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?” 

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit. 

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

[1-800-hellraiser]

EWTBATF Vlahd x Teen!reader Oneshot

(!NOTE: THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE READER AND VLAHD, THIS IS A FATHER DAUGHTER TYPE RELATIONSHIP!

Hello! I made this oneshot for people with daddy issues who used to simp for Vlahd but now want him to be your dad. The reader uses they/them pronouns because I want everyone to be able to feel included while reading this.

Vlahd and Eddsworld The Beginning and The Friend doesn't belong to me! It's a fancomic made by Makenzie Matthews, Jaculynn Kristiansen, Alyssa Grissom and Brittany Clark. Eddsworld belongs to Edd Gould. If I use any art in this oneshot I will credit the artist and give their socials.

P.s: If this is well received, I might make a story about this, so stay tuned~

P.p.s: I know this isn't Creepypasta content, but I felt like doing something a bit different.)

!DISCLAIMER! This oneshot deals with a lot of gore, mental, emotional, and physical abuse, fighting, missing body parts, and swearing! If you are sensitive to these topics, I advise you don't read this oneshot! Also, some spoilers for the fancomic EWTBOTF, so if you haven't read it or haven't been reading it for the past few months, I urge you to do so. Not just for this oneshot, but the comic is also pretty good!

Tessellate

Word count: 3,569

Song: Tessellate - Alt J

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Three guns, and one goes off. Ones empty, ones not quick enough. One burn, one red, one grin. Search the graves while the camera spins."

The same thing happened every single day. You would wake up to screaming, try to shower and do your morning routine without being interrupted, spend the rest of the day your home trying not to get involved with your parent's marital issues, go to school, do chores, get screamed at for not doing something right, eat dinner, do homework, cry, then go to bed. This was your life since you were ten years old. Your biological father died when you were nine, then your mother got remarried a few months after your tenth birthday.

Your parents were very emotionally and mentally abusive. Sometimes they hit you, but would feign sorrow to try to make you feel safe around them. They continued this behavior for years, until you were thirteen. Apparently, your stepfather had gotten into some shady business with the infamous Red Leader. You had to move from your home country to England so your stepfather could work with the Red Leader. You were miserable, you had lost all of your friends you had in school. You had to go to a private boarding school, you never got picked on, but you found it hard to make friends. After a few moths, you finally got comfortable with your new surroundings.

One day though, that all changed for the worse. Your mom and stepfather got into a huge argument, apparently your mom was cheating on a man in the same army as your stepfather. He hit your mom, your mom left right after that. He then hit you really hard in the face, so hard that it left a mark. You burst into tears and ran to your room. You emptied out your book bag, and threw some clothes, hygienic products, your phone and charger, etc, into it. You quietly walked out of your room and out the front door while your dad wasn't looking. You walked down the streets of your neighborhood and out into the little town a few blocks away.

Popping your earbuds in, you listen to some music to try and calm yourself down. You walk around town for a about an hour before you passed a creepy alleyway. Unbeknownst to you, a man stepped out of that alleyway. He lightly tapped you on the shoulder. You stop dead in your tracks. You shakily turn around and take out your earbud to confront the man. A man with shaggy brown hair, an eyepatch, big eyebrows, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth stood before you. Its Paul, your stepfather's mate!

Paul asked why you weren't at your house and offered to take you back. You explained what happened and Paul was shocked and disgusted with your stepfather's behavior. He took you back to the Red Army base and let you stay there. You agree and he takes you to the base. As soon as you get there, Paul took you to talk with Red Leader himself. Scared, you explain to the Red Leader what happened with your mom and stepdad. Red Leader let you stay on base on one condition. You have to serve in the Red Army when you turn sixteen. You agreed because you had nowhere else to go.

It's been five months since your sixteenth birthday. You have been integrated into the Red Army, and you have made a bunch of freinds on the base. It's not so bad working for the Red Army. You even have a father figure now. Even though you'd never tell him you consider him a father figure, in fear of him not being ready to be a dad and pushing you away. Sargent Major Vlahd has been training you since you were fourteen. You started out being very skittish towards him. You didn't know what he would do to you. Eventually, you two have grown closer and closer together.

Vlahd has been teaching you Russian, and you have been working your ass off during training with him. He has taken you under his wing and now you live with him in an apartment Red Leader has for him. All of Red's most important people have their own apartment-type rooms. Vlahd's is built with a living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and an entire ass library. Your room is right across from Vlahds. You have to do chores in your and Vlahd's apartment as well, but it's a small price to pay for a roof over your head and a non-toxic father figure.

"Y/n, ужины готовы (Y/n, dinner's ready)." Vlahd calls from the kitchen, you get up from your desk and decide to finish your studies later. You walk into the kitchen and see a big pot on the stove, whenever that big pot comes out, you know he's making borscht. You celebrate in silence and take a bowl from the cupboard. You spoon some borscht into your bowl, then you proceed to the dinning room table to sit with Vlahd. A little tradition you both started to do to make tou more comfortable around him. "So, how was your day?" You ask, to get a conversation going. "Все было хорошо, а как насчет твоего (It was okay, what about yours?)?" "Mine was pretty good." You say, spooning some borscht into your mouth.

"О, между прочим, Красный Лидер хочет, чтобы я нашел солдата, который недавно ушел из МВД. Так что завтра тебе не нужно тренироваться или учиться, у тебя выходной (Oh, by the way, Red Leader wants me to go find a soldier who has gone MIA recently. So you don't have to do any training or studies tomorrow, you have the day off.)." Vlahd finishes. You nod your head in understanding. "Who do you have to find?" It was often that soldiers went MIA to try and get out of the army and Red Leader's deal. Red is a ruthless man. "Мэтт, я думаю, его зовут (Matt, I think his name is)."

A small 'ohhhhh' left your mouth. Vlahd has had problems with this soldier before. He was not following orders, so Vlahd was ordered to contain him with any force necessary. That didn't go so well. Apparently, another person with Matt turned into a fucking horned beast and sent Vlahd to the medical wing for two weeks. He had broken two of Vlahds ribs and broke his leg. Finishing up your borscht, you bid Vlahd a goodnight, put your bowl and spoon in the sink, and return back to your room to finish your studies before you go to bed.

You awake to your alarm beeping at you. Sighing, you begrudgingly get up and put on your uniform and proceed to role call . After that, you take off your uniform and pick out your clothes for the day. If you're off duty, you don't have to wear your uniform. You pull out a f/c sweater and a pair of black jeans. You get dressed and go to the bathroom, Vlahd has already left, so you have the bathroom all to yourself. You take a shower and proceed with your morning routine. After you're done, you decide to make yourself some toast and have a nice cup of coffee. After you finish your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and bathroom out of boredom. You pull out your phone and check the time. The digital screen reads 10:36 am, you groan out of boredom. Then, a wonderful idea popped into your head, you decided to take a walk off base.

You made sure to write a note for Vlahd and stuck it on the fridge if he returns before you're back. You also ask Red Leader if it's okay. He said that it was, so you go ahead and take a secret trail off base and into a huge, lush forrest. You stick in some earbuds and continue to walk into the forrest. From this trail, there is a small town on the other side. Usually when the base runs low on food, plates, utensils, etc, there is a store where you can buy things in bulk for cheap. You also know of a small café where you like to get drinks, they have really good tea and coffee. You arrive at Le Café de Campagne and enter. You order your favorite drink off the menu. You pay and sit down at the cute tables. The café was heavily inspired by France, with relatively French architecture and design.

Cute glass tables and tall chairs are scattered around the small café, a gorgeous mural is painted on the back wall near the counter and cash register. The mural depicts a beautiful countryside with a small cottage to the left behind a field of yellow and pink flowers. In the background, snowy-topped mountains and another cottage sit beautifully. The baby blue sky and fluffy clouds pull the entire piece together. Cute black vases hold pink and yellow tulips along with napkins, salt, and pepper. A display counter with delectable sweets ranging from Macaroons to Tarte Tatin sit in the window, ready to be eaten. On top of the display counter sits a miniature Eiffel Tower, and a bunch of other mini versions of popular tourist attractions such as the Louvre and the Notre Dame cathedral. The people who work there are pretty cool as well. You know most if the people that work there, such as Andrea. She's been working at the café since it opened three years ago. She's easily one of the sweetest people you've ever met.

"Y/n, you're order is ready!" Andrea's sweet voice calls to you. "Thank you so much, have a good day Andrea!" "You too Y/n!" She calls as you walk out the door. You continue to stroll through the tiny town, looking into windows of small shops. You stop in front of a small thrift store, you decide to look around. You start in the CD and DVD section. You found a CD of your favorite band, and a Smash Mouth CD, both for lest than a euro. Obviously, you decide to buy them. You go looking around in the long sleeve shirt section. You pulled out a cute blue-grey sweater that says "Big Dick Energy" on it in bold letters, as if it were school apparel. You look at the tag, it's your size and only five euros. You take that with you as well. Moving across to the pants section, you find a cute pair of high waisted black ripped jeans. They're your size and only seven euros, so you take it. You bring your items up to the cashier, you pay, then you leave.

You decide to walk more into the forest. You take a short cut through an alleyway between the thrift store and a small bank. You push past a few stray branches and step over some shrubbery. You walk along a naturally formed pathway, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. You keep walking until you feel a droplet of rain fall on your forehead, then a couple more. You take cover underneath a tree as rain pours from the sky. You slide your small f/c backpack off of your shoulders and pull out a travel sized sketchbook and a pencil case full of pencils and pens. You take out a graphite pencil and begin to sketch out some scenery infront of you. Rows upon rows of tall oak trees sit infront of you, along with a line of small bushes keeping the trees from growing onto that pathway. The dirt pathway is damp with rain water, some weeds and flowers have managed to grow through the pathway.

After you're done, you marvel at your sketch, you're definitely putting this on your wall later. You pack up your sketchbook and utensils. You also manage to fit your new thrifted items into your bag as well. You pick up the cup that houses the few drops left of your drink from the café. You quickly make it back to town and find a garbage can to throw the cup away. The rain is still coming down hard, and it's getting dark out. You pull out your phone and check the time. Your digital screen reads 16:57 (4:57 pm). You slip your phone back into the pocket of your jeans and hurriedly walk back to base. Almost slipping in mud a few times, you make it back to base. Once you enter your and Vlahd's apartment, You speed walk to your room and peel off your soaking wet clothes. You enter the bathroom and toss your clothes into the washer to clean them.

Slipping on the clothes you bought, you put away your CDs, wallet, sketchbook, and pencil case. You flop on your bed, now bored. You decide to re-read your favorite book, you haven't read it in a while. In the middle of you reading your book, you got a text from Vlahd. 'Подойдите к входу в большую базу, это срочно (Come to the big entrance, it's urgent.' The text reads, you respond with an 'okay'. You throw another pair of shows on that aren't soaking wet and speed walk to the big entrance in the base. That entrance is usually used for big shipments of cargo, you wonder what could have happened. Anxiety begins to catch up with you and so many negative thoughts run wild in your head. Your speed walking turns into a jog, which turns into a run, which turns into a sprint. You're dodging soldiers as you sprint down to the big entrance.

"Sargent Major Vlahd!" One of the nurses says in shock. You turn the corner just in time to see Vlahd, kneeled over. Your eyes begin to well up with tears. He's covered in blood, parts of his uniform are gone and replaced with huge gashes, his left arm is completely gone. He looks up at you, he sees you almost in tears, he tries to stand back up, but one of the nurses grabs his arm. "Take him to the infirmary, stat!" She says, trying to hustle him past the crowd that formed behind the nurses. Everyone is talking around you, can't hear anything though because of how shocked and overwhelmed you are. Vlahd tries to say something to you, but he's in so much pain that he cant speak. You have people step aside so the nurses can get through to make it to the infirmary in time.

You follow them to the medical wing, you try to follow them into the infirmary, but they won't let you. That's kind of understandable though, considering he needs emergency surgery to fix his arm, or what he has left of his arm. You see him through the infirmary window. Making eye contact with you, he gives you a weak smile before passing out from blood loss. You decide it's best to go back to your apartment, and wait it out. One of the nurses gave you her number to get updates on how Vlahd is doing. She knows how close you are with him, she could tell by the look in your eyes that you were devastated when he came back. You enter the apartment and go straight to your room.

You can't help but cry. You lost one of your father figures and you sure as hell aren't going to lose another one. In the middle of you sobbing, you get a text from the nurse, saying that Vlahds surgery was successful. He's going to have to stay in the infirmary for two to three weeks, but he's going to recover. You start sobbing harder out of pure joy. You hadn't even realized that you've been sobbing for almost two hours straight. The clock on your phone reads '20:37' (8:37 pm). You quickly go out to the kitchen and heat up some leftover borscht from last night. After you finish dinner, you go to bed. All of that crying made you exhausted.

Waking up was a but hard today, but you knew if you didn't show up for role call, Red Leader would be upset. Nobody want's to upset Red, he's terrifying when he's angry. So, you begrudgingly get up and grab an extra uniform you have. Walking into the bathroom, you remember about your clothes from last night. You take them and shove them in the dryer. You do your morning routine and then throw on your uniform half hazardly in a rush to get to role call. Making it to the role call room a bit early, you check your schedule for today. You have patrol with Paul today and that's it. Patrol is just you and Paul standing outside if the bases main entrance to make sure no one comes that isn't expected. Usually these are six hour shifts, but you only have to do four today. Thankfully its only a four hour shift today, you don't think you're mentally well enough to stay for six.

After role call, you met Paul by the main entrance of the base. You two greeted each other, then stayed silent. Until Paul spoke up, "I'm so sorry kiddo. I know this can be very stressful, especially when someone you're close to gets severely injured. It's really not fair what happened to him. Hopefully, he'll recover soon and things will go back to some sort of normality." You pull Paul into a tight hug. A few tears slip out of your tired eyes.You haven't had the time to really process this information. Now that you are on patrol, you can kinda marinate in your thoughts. You pull away from Paul's embrace, "Thank you Paul, I really needed that." You sigh, wiping away the tears that stuck to your flushed cheeks.

After Patrol, you go back to your apartment and change. You change into the Maroon sweater and jeans that are in the dryer. Before you head to the infirmary, you text the nurse to see if Vlahd is awake. Vlahd is a stong man, so the nurses and doctors had to use a lot of anesthesia to keep him unconscious during surgery. The nurse said he was awake, just a bit groggy. You thank the nurse and haul ass to the infirmary. You arrive at medical wing. The medical wing is confusing as hell to navigate. Its three floors, one is where the receptionist desk is, the waiting room, and all the machines like the x-rays, the cat scans, etc. The second one is used for less severe injuries, the third one is used for intensive care. Vlahd is on floor three, room number 108.

"Hello honey, what brings you to the medical wing today?" The receptionist asks in a heavy Jersey accent. "Hello, I'm here to visit Sargent Major Vlahd." The receptionist nods and types something on her keyboard. "Oh! You're Y/n, correct?" You nod. "Okay, sign this out for me please and write your name on this." She hands you a clipboard with a piece of paper you had to fill out in order to visit someone in intensive care. She also hands you a visitor pass that you stick on your shirt. Kind of like a name tag. You fill out the paperwork and pads, then you put the visitors pass on your sweater. You give the paperwork back to the nurse. "Alright sweetie, you know where Vlahd's room is right?" You nod. "Okay, have a good one!" "You too miss." You respond to the receptionist.

You impatiently ride the elevator up to floor three. As soon as the elevator opens, you speed walk to Vlahds room. Knocking on the door, you wait for permission to enter the room. "You can come in hon." The nurse says from the other side of the door. Proceeding to enter the room, all your attention goes to Vlahd. He looks miserable. "I'll leave you twonalone for a while, just hit the bed alarm if you need me." The nurse says then leaves the room. As soon as the nurse leaves the room. You sit down next to him, and try to hold in your tears. You dont want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. Vlahd tries to sit up, but you try to make him lay down again, he can't be straining this much. Although, considering Vlahd is a powerhouse of strength, you didn't get very far.

Instead, you gave up on fighting against him. Surprisingly, Vlahd pulls you into a tight hug. "Все в порядке, дорогая, все будет в порядке (It's okay honey, it'll all be okay.)." You broke down once again, sobbing into Vlahd's shoulder. You unknowingly grabbed fistfuls of his gown. "P-please don't ever leave me, I can't handle this, please d-don't ever leave me dad-" you cut yourself off has soon as 'dad' left your mouth. "I'm so sorry Vlahd, I-I didn't mean to- " "Y/n." Vlahd silences you. "Все в порядке. Я горжусь тем, что являюсь твоим отцом. Ты чертовски ребенок (It's okay. I'm proud to be your father figure. You're one hell of a kid.)." Vlahd states, you hug him once again.

"Thanks, dad."

[molkolsdal]

Pakistan's Transgender Community Is Hiding Out in a Hostile City

As Peshawar has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam, its community of transgender hijras has been increasingly marginalized.

By Beenish Ahmed, 16/05/2014 Photos by Abdul Majeed Goraya

"My father used to beat me and ask, 'Why do you have to go around pretending to be a girl?'"

Now at 35, she says her cheeks burn and fists tighten if anyone refers to her as a man.

Khushboo, whose name means fragrance, classifies herself as a hijra, a South Asian gender designation that encompasses transgender and transexual people, as well as transvestites and eunuchs.

She has a different definition for herself and the estimated hundreds of thousands of other hijras across the region. "Our souls are female and our bodies are male," she says, dipping a rag into a red plastic pail filled with a chalky mixture of water and face powder. Surrounded by a group of several other hijras in a room they call their "office," Khushboo smears the dripping rag over her face and adds, "I've known I was a hijra since I was a child."

She used to wear her sisters' clothes. At 16, Khushboo slipped out of the house in one of their outfits and didn't return home for years. Along with another hijra, she settled in Peshawar, a city in northwestern Pakistan one night's drive from the costal city of Karachi where she'd grown up.

Peshawar has long been home to cultural traditions that insist on strict gender segregation, and the city has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam in recent years. These intolerant, conservative beliefs are made brutally clear through the bombings and shootings that are now near-weekly occurrences. Taliban suicide bombers killed 85 worshippers at a church there last September, and militants killed thirteen people at a cinema showing pornographic movies in February. Lesser attacks are momentary blips on local news coverage featuring bloodied streets and blaring sirens.

Khushboo points to battered doors and broken windows around her. She says young men—"college boys" she calls them—wreak havoc on her and fellow hijras who are preparing for a dance performance later that night. Sometimes the men recite scripture and beat the hijras to shame them out of their profession as dancers, and other times they force them to dance or even rape them, she tells me.

Despite the extremism that has only further marred the city since her arrival nearly 20 years ago, Khushboo has an affinity for Peshawar because it's where she had a sort of rebirth as her new self.

Free from the abuse of her father and brothers, as well as the sense of dishonor she felt on behalf of her mother and sisters, Khushboo embraced a new life of openness—and was adopted into a new family.

"In this field we have mothers. We have gurus. We have uncles and aunts," she says, and then points to a girl who's rolling a spliff in the corner of the room. "She's my daughter. I'm a daughter of someone so she has a grandmother too. And," Khushboo adds, "She also has a father."

That last bit comes so quickly that I almost miss it. I inquire further about the girl's "papa" and Khushboo says, "Her father is married to someone else, but he loves me." She then goes on to explain what their relationship entails—and it's all very practical until it gets utterly tragic: "If I'm sick, he comes by and brings me medicine," she says proudly. "If I don't have money he drops some cash off. If I die, it's this man who will dress me up as a man and take my body to his house to carry out the cemetery. He might not explain the full story and just say that I was killed in the market or that there was some kind of shooting, but he's the one who will take care of the funeral."

I can't help but think that this grim possibility is one that Khushboo has discussed with her "husband"—and one that he too has come to terms with.

"In Pakistani society, there is a really strong [sense of] place and family," says Dr. Jamil Ahmad Chitrali, a professor of anthropology. "There is no alternative for anyone."

Based at the University of Peshawar, Chitrali has written about the city's hijra community. He says that by forging the same sorts of familial connections that they left behind, hijras create a social order that mimics the very society from which many of them fled.

"It's forcing all those revolutionary individuals who are against those binaries of man and woman to come into a structure which is reaffirming patriarchy," he says.

Pakistan's hijras have made some strides in recent years despite their rather isolated existence. In 2012, the Pakistani Supreme Court allowed for a "third gender" category to be added to national identity cards, which effectively gave hijras increased legal standing. It's because of this broader recognition that hijras could vote in that year's presidential election—at least five hijras even ran for office.

But the third gender classification has made little practical difference in Khusbhoo's life. "We live in a third world," she says, the difference between her life and that of a cisgender person just as stark as the difference between life in Pakistan, and say, Monaco.

And, she says, no matter what she does, she'll always be seen as different.

"Even if I give up dancing, everyone will still call me a hijra so what's the point? Why not do what I love?" She adds that even if she were to become a traveling evangelist, her family would still regard her with the same disdain. "I'm better off staying a hijra."

And that's the hardest thing that Khushboo has to face: her family. She got back in touch with them after five years of not speaking, and goes to see them in Karachi at least once a year. But when she does, she goes dressed as a man.

Though she moves about as a woman in Peshawar, Khushboo wears a black floor length, full-sleeved robe (or abaya), and a face covering (or niqab) that reveals only her eyes to hide herself from prying eyes. Even so, she's been thrown out of several houses by people who fear hijras will ruin their neighborhood.

While they occupy a marginalized space across Pakistan, hijras are probably worst off in Peshawar. In all of the other major cities in the country, they are frequent sites at traffic intersections or in shopping centers where they offer a prayer for a few rupees. Many passersby fear denying them might mean a curse and so will either oblige quickly or turn away completely.

I've spent a lot of time in Peshawar over the years, and have never seen hijras out in public the way they are in other cities. After speaking with Professor Chitrali, I learned that might be because hijras have a different role in the Pathan society that dominates the Peshawar area. In this part of the country, hijras aren't seen to have some sort of greater spiritual connection than cisgender people—instead, their role is celebratory. They're often asked to sing and dance at weddings and births.

"It's their performance which gives [a family] social recognition," Chitrali says, though the tradition is fading as weddings move from family houses into wedding halls. Some might have other professions—Khushboo says she has hijra friends who are lawyers and pilots and act cisgender in order to maintain their jobs, though they're free to "be themselves" with her and other hijras. Due to a lack of societal acceptance, many hijras live marginalized lives as low-income entertainers, but they've got a bit of a role as educators, too. Hijras sometimes teach—or even initiate—young men into sex. For many in Peshawar who live by strict religious and cultural codes that denounce almost any pre-marital interaction between the sexes as sinful, hijras provide a sort of in-between, or a "cushion," as Chitrali calls it.

"If you cross the domain of manhood into womanhood, that is against the culture, that is crossing your limits. But you can always move into the gray area, so this hijra community, in that sense, in a clear binary of man and woman among Pathans, [forms] a gray area." But he says that this "learning experience" is becoming less common with such how-to's readily available on the internet.

In Peshawar's increasingly religiously-motivated milieu, the presence of hijras—be they dancers or sex workers—is frowned upon and politicians vie for favor by pushing them out of their homes and worksites.

Seeing this, Malik Iqbal says he wanted to do something. "I sympathize with them because no one gives them any space," he tells me.

He rents out the office that Khusboo and her fellow hijras use to prepare for their dances.

"I didn't used to be on their side," Iqbal says. "Now I help them. I say they're humans too. We should have some empathy for that reason. Not just me, everyone should empathize with them as people."

But some believe Iqbal's connection to hijras goes beyond a shared humanity. Though he refuses to speak about it, Iqbal was arrested in 2010 for attempting to marry a hijra called Rani. Such a union would be illegal under Pakistani law, which only recognizes marriages between men and women. He has repeatedly denied the charge and claimed that police were trying to extort money from hijras at an event that wasn't a marriage but an innocent birthday party. Either way, the shock the story garnered reveals just how far removed everyday Pakistanis are from the hijra community. A big-grossing film called Bol, or Speak—released in 2011—may have helped some, but real connections like Iqbal's remain few.

And not everyone in close proximity to hirjas is sympathetic. Noor Illahi, who owns a grain shop down the street from the hijras' office, doesn't have a problem with the hijras themselves or even their work, but thinks they should find some other place to go. "My work has suffered because of them. The other storeowners and I, we think they should be given some place off to the side. It should be separate."

He's worked in his store for 15 years and says that sales have dropped fifty percent since the hijras set up shop next door a few years ago. "There are a lot of fights here now. They create quite a scene sometimes."

The raucousness has driven away his customers. Those who stop in the area are more interested in the hijras than the sacks of flour he has for sale.

"I'm not personally offended by them. But look," he says, pointing to a group of several white shalwar kameez-clad men loitering outside the hijra's building. "These poor people have earned just three or four hundred rupees all day ($3-4) and they'll come here and waste it all on them."

The men are all rickshaw drivers. One by one, they go on the record to deny being there to solicit sex. "We're just here to chit chat with them," one says while peering over his shoulder to see if any of the hijras have come out into the alley. "It's a totally innocent relationship that we have with them."

Back up in the hijras' office, the lights have gone out as a part of the rolling power outages that have frustrated Pakistanis for years. It might be another hour before they're ready to leave for their performance. When they do, they'll be cloaked in massive shawls and under the cover of night.

[introvertguide]

The Apartment (1960); AFI #80

The next film on the list that we reviewed was the one of the last black and white films to win best picture, The Apartment (1960). The film actually held the title of last B&W Best Picture winner for 50 years until The Artist came along in in 2011. Along with Best Picture, the film was nominated for 10 Oscars and won Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Art Direction, and Best Editing. The film also won Best Picture from the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs, the Director’s Guild Awards, and the Critic’s Circle Awards. Truly a great synthesis of acting, directing, cinematography, music, and story, this movie is one of the lesser known greatest films of all time. I have more to say about this film, but I want to go over the story in all of its excellence. But first...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS COMEDY HAS LEGITIMATE SURPRISES AND SUBJECT MATTER THAT WOULDN’T FLY TODAY!!! TRULY A GREAT FILM THAT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!! I STRONGLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT INSTEAD OF JUST READING THE STORY LINE!!!

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An opening run of establishing shots with a voice over by the main character lets the audience know that he is a drone accountant at a giant firm with little chance to move up in the world. C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) is a lonely office drudge at a national insurance corporation in New York City. He has lucked out and found a way to leverage his home in order to climb the corporate ladder. Baxter allows four company managers to take turns borrowing his Upper West Side apartment for their extramarital liaisons, which he manages with a detailed schedule. Baxter has not seen any movement, but he is constantly offered the promise of a promotion since he is a “team player.” 

One of the serious down sides of this ploy is that his apartment is in constant use and the bosses are making a mess and drinking all his liquor. C.C. has no place to go some nights so he stays and works late. Because C.C. is constantly going in and out and people can hear women in his apartment, he is starting to develop a different kind of reputation with the other tenants. While unable to enter his own apartment when it is in use, his neighbors assume that their neighbor is a playboy bringing home a different woman every night.

C.C. is able to get glowing performance reports from his four managers and he is able to submit them to the personnel director, Jeff D. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), in hope of a promotion. Sheldrake promises to promote him, but demands that he also receive use of the apartment for his own affairs, beginning that night. As compensation for such short notice, he gives Baxter two theater tickets to The Music Man. After work, C.C. asks Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), an elevator operator in the office building, to go to the musical with him. She agrees but goes first to meet with a "former fling," who turns out to be Sheldrake, and let him know there will be no more meetings. When Sheldrake dissuades her from breaking up with him and promising to divorce his wife for her, they go to the apartment as poor Baxter waits forlornly outside the theater.

Later, at the company's raucous Christmas party (there is dancing on the tables and the lamest strip tease of all time), Fran is told by Miss Olsen (Edie Adams), Sheldrake's secretary, that Sheldrake has also had affairs with her and other women employees. Later at Baxter’s apartment, Fran confronts Sheldrake with his lies. Sheldrake maintains that he genuinely loves her, but that he has no intention of splitting up with his wife. He then leaves to return to his suburban family as usual and Fran is so depressed that she finds sleeping pills in the apartment bathroom and attempts suicide.

Baxter learns through finding a dropped hand mirror that Fran is the woman Sheldrake has been taking to his apartment, so he goes to a bar and lets himself be picked up by a married woman. When they arrive at his apartment, he is shocked to find Fran in his bed, seemingly dead. He sends his pick-up away and enlists the help of his neighbor, Dr. Dreyfuss (Jack Krushen), to revive Fran without notifying the authorities. I should not laugh, but it is pretty funny that the doctor goes straight to slapping Fran in the face to wake her up. The actors did not hold back; he is slapping her in the face really hard, so much so that you can tell her cheeks are reddening even in black and white. Baxter makes Dreyfuss believe that he was the cause of the incident and, scolding his neighbor for his apparent philandering, Dreyfuss advises him to "be a mensch, a human being."

As Fran spends two days recuperating in the apartment, C.C. takes care of her, and a bond develops between them, especially after he confesses to having attempted suicide himself over unrequited feelings for a woman who now sends him a fruitcake every Christmas. While they play a game of gin rummy, Fran reveals that she has always suffered bad luck in her love life. As Baxter prepares a romantic dinner, one of the managers arrives with a woman. Although Baxter persuades them to leave, the manager recognizes Fran and informs his colleagues. Later confronted by Fran's brother-in-law, Karl Matuschka, who is looking for her, the managers direct Karl to the apartment out of jealousy. At the apartment, Karl's anger at Fran for her behavior is deflected by Baxter, who again takes responsibility. Karl punches C.C. (and interviews with Lemmon revealed that the punch did land), but when Fran kisses him for protecting her, he just smiles and says it "didn't hurt a bit."

Sheldrake learns that Miss Olsen told Fran about his affairs, so he makes the poor choice of firing the woman who knows of all his dealings, and she retaliates by meeting with Sheldrake's wife, who promptly throws her husband out. Sheldrake believes that this situation just makes it easier to pursue his affair with Fran. Having promoted C.C. to an even higher position, which also gives him a key to the executive washroom, Sheldrake expects Baxter to loan out his apartment yet again. Baxter gives him back the washroom key instead, proclaiming that he has decided to become a mensch, and quits the firm.

That night at a New Year's Eve party, Sheldrake indignantly tells Fran what happened. Realizing she is in love with Baxter, Fran abandons Sheldrake and runs to the apartment. At the door, she hears what sounds like a gunshot. Fearing that Baxter has attempted suicide again, she frantically pounds on the door. Baxter answers, holding a bottle of champagne whose cork he had just popped in celebration of his plan to start anew. As the two settle down to resume their gin rummy game, Fran tells C.C. that she is now free too. When he asks about Sheldrake, she replies, "We'll send him a fruitcake every Christmas." He declares his love for her, and she replies, "Shut up and deal."

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This film is one of the most praised movies of all time, but it is not one of the most generally well known. This is probably due to the subject matter, although It’s A Wonderful Life also deals with suicide and is one of the America’s most popular family films. The problem is most likely that extra marital affairs by big company management as a normal thing was highly frowned upon. With the whole #MeToo movement, it seems that this kind of philandering culture might very well have been a known problem for decades. A movie based around the premise that office managers need a nice place to have sex with secretaries and elevator girls would not have been acceptable under the Hays Code. This is also the second film on the AFI list where Fred MacMurray plays a bad guy before being the understanding patriarch on My Three Sons and the first person honored as a Disney Legend in 1987. Fun fact, MacMurray was an uncredited extra in a film called Girls Gone Wild in 1929.

Billy Wilder knew that this was going to be a divisive film due to content, but he also had the confidence that everything would work out following the massive success of his previous film, Some Like It Hot. Wilder had considered a film based on adultery back in the 1940s but was unable to get funding at the time due to the Hays Code. The film was also based on a real life Hollywood drama in which an agent was shot by a producer over an affair (in which a low level employee apartment was used) as well as a friend of a co-writer who returned home to a dead ex-girlfriend following a break-up. 

It is amazing to think that this film is described as a comedy. There are office politics in which mid-level managers use local celeb status to take advantage of their subordinates. There are half a dozen cheating husbands that string along their affairs. There are characters so hurt that they would rather die than deal with what is done with them. There are raging parties at work where everyone gets massively drunk and dance on the desks. Women are treated like objects that either need to be protected with violence or thrown away. And yet the film is legitimately fun with characters that are worth rooting for.

Some of the success rides on the fabulous acting of Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and the witty dialogue written by I.A.L. Diamond. In fact, the dialogue and limited characters feels a lot like a stage play, which come to fruition in the form of Promises, Promises on Broadway by Burt Bacharach, Hal David, and Neil Simon. Dealing with real sets and locations, however, resulted in some colds and sickness since the actors were really out in the New York snow. Some other realism in the film came from both lead actors taking blows for the film: Shirley MacLaine got proper slapped by the doctor and Jack Lemmon was really punched by the brother-in-law.

A stand out aspect for me in this film which I talk up quite a bit is the cinematography. I have used many screen grabs from the film and used them as my avatar. I identify with the feeling of being used for something which made a mid manager look good while allowing them to do bad things. In fact, I am sure that everyone has felt like a Baxter at some point, and it is great to see him stand up for himself. Here are a couple of screen grabs (besides the top photo above) that I have used:

That lonely man in the middle of countless empty desks, that look of frustration when others are using your things to live a better life than you, and that time that love makes utility become fun and gadgets seem pretentious. It is very easy for me to get lost in how much I love this film. It has been far and away my favorite find from the AFI Top 100 between when I first saw the film in 2014 and now.

So, should the film be on the top 100 list? It has the awards and the history along with being a fantastic film. Of course it belongs on the list. Would I recommend it? Yes. This film is the type that makes people like me want to go through lists like this. I had never heard of the film in 2014 and it floored me how good it was. Each time I watch I appreciate it more, and the whole film project becomes well worth my time and effort. This film is so good, it affirms my life choices. I invite and implore you to check it out for yourself.

[mwahrzipan-sen]

~ Merry slightly late Christmas to you, sweetest Papaya Jess! I hope you like this gift and I hope this story is nice! You are the sweetest human ever and I am so glad we chat so much and enjoy our wonderful cowboy stories! Merry Christmas and I give you so many hugs and squishies! ~

A Christmas Valentine

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Heavy boots dragging through the snow. The owner of said heavy boots made a stop, leaning against a strong cedar tree. A quick match to a roll and the dark scenery was lit by a tiny circle of ember. A sigh broke the onslaught of the harsh cold wind, and the man could only huff as the cigarette did little to warm his body up. With a sigh, he carelessly threw the cigarette into the snow and the crunch of the hard snow filled the air once more. The hard crunch was soon drowned out by the sounds of chattering teeth and a small fussy boy whining to his Mama about Daddy not being there.

“He pwomised, Mama! Where’s Daddy?” little Jack fussed softly, the poor thing’s hand tightly gripping onto Abigail’s shawl. The small hand kept tight on Abigail’s shawl and the poor thing shook it cutely.

“He’s coming soon sweetie. Don’t go pulling on your Mama’ shawl now.” Abigail fussed sweetly, “Bastard better hurry up” she grumbled softly, before pressing tiny kisses to Jack’s fussy cheeks. Both stood and waited before Abigail’s one second growl was replaced with faux happiness. “Look, baby! It’s your Daddy!” She hummed and bounced Jack, the sweet thing letting go of his tantrum before making grabby hands to John coming back from his smoke break. John gave a small gruff sigh before he gave a small smile to make Abigail satisfied and to let the mother have a break.

“Hey, son. Giving Mama trouble before Christmas?” John teased, bouncing the small boy. Jack’s small hands squished John’s cheeks before fussing, “Don’t teww Santa, Daddy! Pwease!”. It was too cute and John could only chuckle lightly. “Here, son. Got the gift you wanted.” John hummed gently as he grabbed the small gift from his pocket and handed it over to the eager little boy. With a happy squeal, little Jack giggled and was soon back into his Mama’s arms, holding his gift excitedly.

“We’ll open that up on Christmas Day, baby. Be good alright?” Abigail cooed before gently sending her baby to bed. John sighed as he and Abigail shared a small tense goodbye before John turned and went to his cabin. He sighed, entering the cold thin home and going to start a fire, something to stave off the cold. He then took notice of his cabinmate, Javier, who was currently resting on the uncomfortable beds. Javier shifted his hat and peaked back at John. “Welcome back, brother,” Javier greeted, “Guessing you’re having marital issues again?” he teased lightly before receiving a glare from the other. John gave a small tsk before sighing and flopping on his own uncomfortable bed. The two stewed in silence, all that could be heard was the harsh wind outside and the creaks from the thin cabin but was soon disturbed by Javier’s small hum. “Listen. We’re gonna be moving soon, to Valentine. That’s gonna take a lot of time, so…” Javier hummed softly, avoiding John’s glare, “So why don’t you two make up?” Javier suggested heavily to which John sighed. “Can’t work out something that’s dying, Javier.” He sighed again, “Don’t wanna burden her and make it anymore difficult. I just don’t know what to do…” John sighed again before turning away from the sympathetic man. “Just… goodnight, Javier.” And with his back turned, John fell into an uneasy sleep. Bit a small soft feeling was there on his cheek, soft and small and gone in an instant before John fell completely asleep.

Once the Van Der Linde group woken up, everyone pitched in to get their camp packed away and ready to travel out of the mountains. John hummed softly, a little distracted from his work. What was that soft feeling on his cheek before he fell asleep. He pondered and pondered before he felt a small shove to his shoulder, “Don’t go thinkin too hard, brother. Gotta get going soon.” Arthur joked, chuckling a bit before humming. He took a peek at Abigail gently fussing with Jack, the small boy fussing sweetly, ready for a wonderful Christmas. The cute thing was so impatient~. Arthur hummed, “You having problems again?” Arthur asked as John sighed, “Strained. But that’s not it.” John stopped, not going any further. John finished up packing before he went to mount on his horse. As he mounted, Javier rode up close and gave a gentle smile. “Morning. Feeling any better?” Javier asked gently. John didn’t know why but he found his cheeks burning a little. Strange, but John didn’t find his usual grouchy self complaining. John gave a small grumble though, “M’fine. Let’s get going. Gonna take months before we make it to Valentine.” John huffed before he and the whole group made their way down the mountain.

After travelling down the mountain successfully, they made a break and set up their small camp. With everyone’s help, the Van Der Linde group had settled and went to work on their chores or taking a break. John felt hisself pondering again and the man could only peek at Abigail and Jack, the little boy learning how to read with Grandpa Hosea and Abigail praising the tiny boy. John sighed before resting his eyes, needing a nap from all of his self brooding. But there it was again, the small fleeting warmth on his cheek again. John opened his eyes but found no one. Thoroughly confused but it just felt nice. He can’t remember if Abigail ever kissed so softly. But…. With how they are, it couldn’t have been Abigail. John would just need to figure it out somehow.

But before he could think, he was interrupted by Javier. The tan man smiled and held out his flask. “Share a warm drink in the bitter cold, hombre?” Javier smiled, his voice soft as to not disturb the others. The sun was dimming and the fires were being made. John looked at the flask then to Javier before giving a shrug. The two sat down, huddled close, and took turns drinking the harsh and burning whiskey. They sat in silent for the most part, although John made sure he was quiet whenever peeking at Javier. The strong jawline, the scars littering Javier’s cheek and the adamant scar on his neck, and those deep eyes that shined when the sun just hits right- John flinched as he looked down at the snow, glaring so hard the snow would’ve melted. What’s with his thoughts? Why now? All of a sudden? John was about to grumble before Javier gave a small tap to John’s thighs. “You’re stressed. The alcohol must not be that powerful, huh?” Javier joked lightly before giving a small frown, “What’s wrong?”. John sighed softly, daring his eyes to peek at Javier again. His heartbeat rose as he looked into the concerned eyes. John bit his lip before his body moved on its own, leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to Javier’s cheek, the same as the one he felt before. Javier and John were still for a very long and awkward period of time, both not really knowing what to do. Javier fidgeted nervously before gently returning the peck, “Figured it out?” He whispered softly, almost afraid, but he did his best to be brave.

John was at a stand still but he found his body relax. He figured it out, so quickly, and the man gave a sigh. “Yer a real sweetheart, aint’chu Javier?” John teased lightly before cooing softly, “Real sweet.” Another peck. The another. Another. Another~. The alcohol seemed to kick in and Javier could feel his cheeks heat up too. Javier gently cupped John’s face before gently pulling away. “Come to my tent later. Let’s talk.” Javier hummed softly before getting up. John, now alone, sighed softly, gently touching his lips. Was he in even more trouble with his family? Maybe. Had he felt something different but nice? Yes. Was he going to Javier’s tent at night? You bet. But, before John could make a mistake or do something to hurt his relationship even more, he needed to talk with Abigail first.

Abigail sighed softly, gently cradling her precious son. The poor thing did his best to stay up to see Santa but thankfully with Abigail’s sweet lullabies soothed the boy to sleep. With Jack tucked up in the little cot, Abigail laid on her little sleeping bag. She sighed, she was tired and she was also silently cursing. She needs a break, but she knew for a fact that Jack’s father wasn’t gonna step up. But, Abigail couldn’t help but think that something needs to improve, something to just put everything at ease. But… that’s hard to think about, but she’ll mull over everyone it later. Just before the mother could join her son in dreams, she heard the tent flap move. She looked up and speak of the devil. “John.” Abigail said curtly before she sighed. She let John inside and the two sat down, with a small whisper Abigail hummed, “What?”. John hummed gently, “Let’s talk. We… I wanna improve enough so that I can help you take care of our son.” John whispered. He looked at the sleeping Jack, all bundled up. John looked back, “And… well let’s decide what we are to each other.” John and Abigail shared a huff. The air was tense but John broke it. “I don’t think we’ve felt love from eachother in a long while… I see the stares you give Ms. Sadie, so…” John cleared his throat, “So I think she’d be good for you.” John hummed, “And…” John took a deep breath, “And I think… I think I’ve found someone else too.” John felt himself slump a little, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He looked at Abigail shyly and the other gave a tiny smile. “Let’s be happy alright. Maybe not together but… let’s be happy our own ways. Happy parents mean a happy child right?” Abigail cooed sweetly. She too slumped and felt herself gently squeeze John’s arm. “Have fun with your darling alright? Don’t let me hold you back. Goodnight, John. And make sure you come over for Christmas, for our boy’s sake.” Abigail smiled gently before John gave a nod and stood. John gave a tiny kiss to Jack’s cheek before leaving the tent, going immediately towards Javier’s.

Javier’s body was snuggled into the thin blanket, his chest rising and falling slowly, breathing softly. He was enjoying his nice sleep before he felt his body was shaken. A gentle shake at that. Javier gave a small yawn and turned, his eyes trying to focus. But, Javier recognized John’s figure and the smaller man gave a small smile. “Hola~” He said simply before scootching over and letting John cuddle the other. They reveled in their shared warmth before Javier presses a gentle kiss to John’s cheek. “Tomorrow’s Christmas… let’s go to Valentine together, si?” Javier hummed sleepily to which John replied with a small gruff hum. Both found themselves slowly sinking back into a nice slumber, warm and filled with a light feeling.

Christmas morning was heard through the birds chirping in the air, felt by the shared warmth from the two gentleman, and can be appreciated as both shared sweet lazy kisses to one another’s scarred and scruffy cheeks, tickled by mustaches. A small peck was shared on one another’s ruddy cheeks before they pulled away. Javier gave a small smile, “Let’s get ready, si? Or else our date will be wasted on a wonderful Christmas,” Javier hummed sweetly, kissing John’s cheek. John blushed, “We’re wanted in Valentine, remember?” John grumbled, a bit worried. He sure didn’t want his date with his crush? Lover? His Javier in a county jail cell. Javier giggled softly. “We’ll be careful, right? And we’ll just book a hotel under an alias.” Javier smiled and teased. He sighed before getting up. “I’ll get our horses ready while you get breakfast.” Javier hummed, leaving the tent to do his chore before his date. John could only lay on the cot and smile lightly to himself. This was already turning to a nice Christmas. He too soon got up and went to nab breakfast and possibly freshen up for Javier.

With chores taken cared of, the two new lovebirds went into town, bundled up and not being suspicious. They shared sneaky glances and inside smiles. It was nice… although still high pressure whenever they see any cops, but thankfully, no Pinkertons were in the area. They’re wonderful Christmas morning, shared with warm drinks, small chatter, and a spectacle of beautiful lights. They made their way to Main Square, seeing the large cedar tree decorated with gorgeous decorations, and the most beautiful was the star on top, large and golden. John and Javier stared in silence, a comforting thing as they heard carolers and happy chatter from the townsfolk. John then looked to Javier, before quickly and gently pulling the other into a sweet kiss. Soft sparks of warmth hit both men’s hearts before they pulled away. John looked down at Javier and gave a warm coo, “Merry Christmas, darlin’”. Javier gave a warm smile and pressed another kiss to his darling John, “Merry Christmas, amor.”

The End

[jemej3m]

ghosts

this was unprompted but i dont care. all yall want is the wedding and i need an angst pallet cleanser before i can keep going with that. it’s so soft and sweet. blurgh, gross ;D

anyway!

remember in the first part, when neil said that drake spear’s case would forever remain unsolved? 

yeah. this is that.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, i/r torture, i/r csa, i/r self harm/suicide attempts, i/r murder

(normal pre-marital problems, i assume)

*

Neil traversed their kitchen as he threw together a curry Renee had recommended, whistling very poorly with the TV on in the background. An Exy game was always playing, much to Andrew’s dismay. 

They’d been living together for about a year and a half, and engaged for nearly a week now. Neil thought he couldn’t possibly get any happier, which was odd and unfamiliar in his tragic life. As he rinsed the starch off the rice and threw it into the rice cooker (gifted to him by Allison because once he’d served her undercooked, burnt rice and she’d never forgiven him since) he heard the front door unlock and twist open, the familiar shuffle of his fiancé arriving home making Neil smile. 

That sentiment was lost when he turned around to greet him. 

“Andrew,” Neil managed, watching Andrew fall onto the couch. He looked at the television, eyes so distant that they couldn’t register Neil even as he crouched down in front of him. “Andrew?”

His hands were shaking, curled into fists by his sides. Neil had never seen his skin so pale and lifeless. 

“Andrew,” he continued. “Can i sit next to you?” When he didn’t answer, Neil slowly moved to sit on the couch, giving him enough time to shove him back. Neil kept at least a centimetre between them at every point. 

“I’m making dinner,” he said, trying to think of something mundane to draw him out of his head. “Curry, one of Renee’s. You said you tried it and liked it. It has lamb, and I've snuck in some peas, but the sauce tastes good enough that we should be able to ignore them.” His fists relaxed slightly, the longer Neil talked. “You remember that cat shelter that I said was a front? Well, it’s still a cat shelter. Maybe we could check it out, see if there are any hairless ones. I know you like the hairless ones.” 

Andrew reached out for Neil’s hand and closed his eyes. His thumb traced the scars on Neil’s skin. The pattern was familiar and comforting for Andrew: Neil sighed with relief. 

“I’ve got those off-brand icecream sticks you love,” Neil continued, leaning in closer. “There was only one box left that weren’t those coconut-raspberry ones. Pure chocolate, just for you. Maybe we could dip them in sprinkles.” 

Andrew hummed softly. 

“Hey,” Neil said under his breath, leaning closer. He never asked if Andrew was okay, if he was alright, how his day went: not when he was like this. Asking a question meant requiring an answer, and providing a template meant forcing a restricted response. Andrew didn’t need to give Neil falsities. They were past that.

“Drake is being let out on parole.” 

Drake fucking Spear. 

Andrew told Neil the story a year into dating. He was in college, with his cousin and his brother. They’d moved to South Carolina, lived under Betsy’s roof as a reprieve from their biological family, and then congregated at their local college. All was fine until Andrew’s foster-home past caught up with him, the last time they’d gone to visit Nicky’s mother and father. 

Drake had been waiting for Andrew in Nicky’s old bedroom. It was safe to say that when Nicky and Aaron found them, it wasn’t pretty. Andrew had intentionally fucked with his biological mother’s car when he figured out she was treating Aaron like shit: in return, Aaron had wrenched Drake (a marine seal) off his brother and kicked the life out of him. 

Only he didn’t die. He went to jail. Aaron went to trail and claimed self-defence on his brother’s behalf. Everything was meant to be fine. 

Eight years later, Andrew was here, sitting on the couch as he reminisced upon horrid memory after horrid memory, knowing that his old demon was loose once more. 

“I’ll kill him.” Neil murmured. 

Andrew finally looked at him. “Neil.” 

He looked up. “I would kill him a thousand times over, Andrew.” 

Andrew said nothing, his head falling to rest on Neil’s shoulder. By the amount of tension coiled in Andrew’s shoulders, he must have been holding this in all day. 

Neil set his jaw, unwillingly to lie to himself. He was going to commit a self-serving, premeditated murder. 

His father would be so proud. 

*

When it finally happened, Andrew was coming home from dinner at Nicky and Erik’s. Neil was still working, somewhere in the depths of the city, but it was fine. Andrew had been able to distract himself from the weight pressing on his shoulders for a few hours with his cousin. 

A whole month since Drake - no, Spear - had been out on parole, and Andrew hadn’t heard a peep. For a while Andrew had thought that perhaps Spear would go to Aaron instead, the man who’d bashed him but not good enough to avoid jail, but Aaron had heard nothing. Chicago was way too far from South Carolina, where he’d been held for his crimes. 

But Baltimore wasn’t.

He unlocked his front door and felt the way it was loose, too loose, observing the scratches on the bolt’s screws. Andrew grit his teeth, pulling out the knife from his armband and wishing he’d brought home his gun, to swing the door open. 

As expected, the apartment was dark. But not empty. 

“Evening, AJ.” 

“Isn’t this dramatic,” Andrew insisted, though his insides were twisted with fear. Don’t lock up. Don’t lock up. Don’t -

“I was waiting for you. I’ve missed you.” 

Andrew punched the lightswitch hard enough for the wall to buckle: it held, and instead revealed something worse than Drake and his sneer. 

Neil was bound to a dining chair with cuffs Andrew kept, just in case, a tie around his mouth. He looked incredibly woozy. Andrew wanted so desperately to go to him, but Spear himself was sat on the arm of their new couch, elbows braced on his knees. Andrew hated his slick grin and his knowing smile and his soulless fucking eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d almost killed himself over this man, thinking at least he would die knowing what a mother’s love felt like. 

A mother’s love shouldn’t have cost Andrew a thing, let alone nearly everything. Those scars on his arms were warped with time and a long journey to healing, and Drake wasn’t going to take that away from him again. 

“You learned a few tricks in prison,” Andrew acknowledged. 

“You snatched yourself a husband-to-be,” Drake sneered. “How cute. I knew you’d liked it all along.” 

Andrew’s hand twitched. “You’re in violation of your parole, Drake. I’m going to arrest you.” 

“You’re a cop?” Drake spat out a laugh. It was guttural and wrong. Neil winced. “Well, ain’t that just funny.” 

“Funny how I, the boy who’d had nothing and was still taken from, ended up with a fulfilling life, finding family and friends and a purposeful occupation, whilst you, a boy who’d had everything and more, took your life for granted and ended up in the slammer for eight years, with more to come? Hilarious. I agree.” 

“I should’ve crushed your skull eight years ago,” Drake laughed. “No matter: I’ll make up for it now.” 

Neil met Andrew’s eyes as his hands fiddled with the cuffs. Keep talking. 

 “Why, Drake?” Andrew’s voice cracked. “You had Cass. School. Friends. Everyone liked you. What drove you to ruin your own life?” 

“I did have everything I could’ve ever needed,” he said, teeth oily as he grinned. “But what I wanted was something I couldn’t have. Till it occurred to me that I didn’t need to have it. I just needed to take it.” He sneered, putting his hands to the arm of the couch as he readied to stand. “Did it hurt you, little AJ? Because I hope it did. I always liked it best when you bled -” 

“Then I’ll make sure that you get what you’re owed, Drake Spear,” Neil said softly, balancing his knife between his fingertips. Its blade rested against Drake’s throat, Neil free of his cuffs and gag. 

The man froze. 

“Best practise is putting things away after you use them,” Neil advised, lifting a cloth to Drake’s mouth and nose. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped over, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. 

Andrew sucked in a gasp of air, watching as Neil cuffed the man’s wrists behind his back and stood with a boot pressed to his neck, should he wake up. 

From under the couch, Neil drew out a large tarp and his knives. Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. By the time he’d opened them, the coffee table had been flipped as a make-shift torture device, the tarp covering the carpet beneath. Neil was testing the sharpness of his cleaver against the tip of his finger: satisfied, he turned around to look at Andrew. “Help me roll him?”

Andrew looked at the man, hollowed out. “I was going to take him in.“

“What good is that?” Neil demanded, throwing the cleaver back into his pile. “He’ll go back to jail for another four to six months for violation of his parole, unless he tries to -” Neil screwed his eyes shut. “No. No, I won’t let him touch you again. And if you suggest some sort of self-sacrificing bullshit to have him locked up for good, I won’t buy it.” 

“He won’t get out on parole again -” 

“That is not worth a fifteen year sentence that he’ll worm his way out of again, letting the cycle will just repeat itself. No, Andrew. He is never going to touch you again. He will never look at you again.” His fists shook with a quiet fury. “I won’t let it happen.” 

“Neil,” Andrew stepped forward. “You need to let me do my job.” 

His fiancé brandished a knife from god-knows-where. “You need to let me do mine! Leave if you must. If your morals put you above killing a horrid man to keep my family safe, then go. But this man is not leaving here alive and whole. I am not letting the man I love subject himself to ruination via an old demon.” He finally looked Andrew in the eye. “Not if I can help it.” 

Neil bent over to drag Drake’s unconscious body over to where he needed it, locking his ankles and wrists to the four metal legs of their coffee table. The chloroform wasn’t strong enough to keep him asleep for long, but it didn’t matter. He was secure and doomed by the time he blinked his eyes open. 

Andrew watched Neil spin a knife between his fingers. 

“Wh - “ Drake coughed. “What? What happened?” 

“Not much,” Neil said, lightly. “You merely threatened to maim and kill the man I love, right in front of me.” His smile was the most frightening thing about him. “I don’t like that.”

“No,” Drake struggled against his restraints. “No!” 

“For now, I’ll shove this in there,” Neil said, grabbing the tie. “But later I’ll be sure to sever your vocal chords, so you can try and fail to scream, just like you tried to keep him quiet for years. No gag required. Neat, right?” 

“AJ,” Drake panted. “Andrew, get this psycho away from me. AJ -!” 

Neil shoved the tie into Drake’s mouth. “No. Stop looking at him. Look at me. I’m your biggest problem right now, aren’t I?” 

“I’m going to the study,” Andrew muttered, lightheaded. Neil glanced up at him, so he nodded, so minutely that anyone but Neil would’ve missed it. 

Neil’s expression softened slightly around the eyes as clear understanding passed between them, bright as day. 

Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, Andrew said. 

Thank you for letting me, Neil returned. 

With a deep breath, Andrew turned away to put the kettle on as Neil got to work. 

*

WOW okay. twiiiiiisted. i did promise that this would all be fluffy and nice, didn’t I? well, oops. 

i hate drake enough to feel that its warranted tho. srry not srry. 

back to your regularly scheduled program a-next time! 

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 28-29, 2019 // the bonny scot

posting this a day later than normal because this is one of the rare episodes that shows a passage of time from one day to the next yayy love that for them

-wonder what filming these beginning sexy scenes is like for them in real life

-sooooo can lucy see nancys sexy dream? is she judging? does this mean she likes nancy with owen or nick more? or is she trying to tell nancy that her sex dreams are irrelevant to the mystery at hand and she needs to focus?

-seeing people in the ✨prison chair✨: gomber, carson, karen (voting for josh s3 just saying)

-completely ignores carson's question about herself typical nance

-"or maybe i did stumble across a knife" its like hes trying to make the case against him look plausible while attempting to maintain innocence. this is a slippery slope for carson to try and encourage her to keep her pacified + hide the truth while also trying to keep her from getting involved bc hudsons

-"genetics gets you in the door" aaaaand then she walks in to everetts office to meet him and crashes their family dinner

-ok who tf is dawn and why is she in charge here

-this guidance counselor of nicks is my favorite person

-"i admire your allergy to pleasantries" bess and nancy both have reveals to big families but nancy does not have the graceful, accepting reveal to her rich family like bess does at this lunch. nancys reveal is messy, cold, bloodstained and sticky-fingered, not nice in any way whatsoever. and this little chat with everett (bit of a parallel to lucy's) just highlights how nancy is always bad at bargaining with her grandparents*- always trying to fight on their level but giving up her equal hand bc she doesnt know how to hide it when they bring up something she doesnt know. like confronting celia at the masque: she was so confident with her theory and what she knew, but then we got a "what does that mean?" like. the instant you say that, you lose. and she walked right into the "yes i do have someone, hes in jail" 🤦🏼‍♀️ even in the car with ryan at the end of s1, he literally just fucking leaves her there. like 🤷🏼‍♀️ what did u think was gonna happen sis?? for all she can predict how past things lead to present circumstances shes fucking awful at seeing the direct future *(grandparents except for patrice bc her dementia makes her inaccessable)

-lmaooooo this awko ass portrait...i get the empty space is for nance but who on earth thought this was a good pic??

-LISBETH 🥺💙

-"will u help the claw for me?" george struggles financially to keep her livelihood while nancy is somehow shown as being taken care of even when her parent is incarcerated; both nancy and george live in single parent homes now with mention of both medical debt and george being breadwinner yet nancy has no struggles while george does. (i wonder if ryan had been able to help george here how the story would have changed)

-"when it comes to following people around without their knowledge or consent i am somewhat of a repeat offender" 😂😂😂

-"he wasnt endgame after all" BESS lmaoooo

-"...okay." lmaoooo i fuckin love owen

-i was hoping the girls' faces would be more shocked like with a glance to owen but they just....werent

-"we're the good guys" <---- this statement is soooo interesting in terms of how they structure the show and how the characters see themselves (its an interesting contrast with the more definitive good vs evil with things that are both clearly good and clearly evil but theres also a lot of moral grey area here, the show is kinda swamped in it. are nancy and crew the good guys? are they the bad guys in someone else's story? concerns.)

-"i'd call it more than just stuff" like why did u concede that??? and then the shit about oof that didnt sound like a compliment lmaoooooo why does she suck at arguing?? she and owen wouldnt work long term bc theyre so similar (as mentioned later on)

-i LOVE george slowly falling in love with nick here- hence how upset she gets when nick bails on her for nancy later (which is totally justified!!!)

-i am LIVING for the little nod this driver guy gives bess when she turns back around all nervous 😂

-"i do like buying things" i would so say that too tbh

-"you'd have plenty to talk about" LMFAOOOOOOO SHE KNOWS "marvins dont marry drivers" so diana is totally fine with the gay its just the poor she has a problem with 😂💙fuckin love that

-love how nancy just casually ruins everything for nick/george lmaooo

-"i have seen you at your best, nancy, and there is nothing like it." 🥴😳 i love this still-in-love look nancy gives him thats so strong he had to change the subject

-so is haunting time 11 pm? from that clock of bashiir's?

-how do NO neighbors notice this fucking water and shit

-these are TOTALLY AWFUL fake screams from the bonny scot crew 😭

-"i know well enough not to get involved when he's in play" both carson and ryan avoid engaging with everett even though nancy is willing to do so armed with less info and more balls/ but "could i trust him" and ryan says yes lmaooooo NO honey + that makes ryan 0/2 for helping the girls when they ask this ep

-"find a project of your own" and he does, with his youth center 🙏🏻💙 what s2 foreshadowing!

-"god i wish i still drank" 😂😂😂

-"she is darling." 💙👌🏻

-okay wtf is mirror bay??

-i really wonder about the extent of celia x sebastians relationship here. did she truly care about him or was it just secret and exciting sex? also would love more hints of diana vs celia moments like these. celia doesnt even look upset. i mean shes had time to deal but like wtf. and who exactly is sebastian to diana? not her husband? like damn what if he was. somehow i doubt she'd talk about him diddling celia if diana was disrespected also

-i wonder if celia being so invested in dna testing nancy was bc everrett dna tested ryan to make sure he was his bc of sebastian / other men (which would be totally valid on his part!! but wouldnt it be funny as fuck if ryan wasnt his 😂)

-what a neat hiding place in this frame lmaooo who put that in for them tho? like how do u go about ordering that

-"you certainly are your fathers daughter" this quote is doubly ironic and foreshadowy bc theyre referencing carson here as being a useful hudson attaché but nancy is playing everett just like ryan played celia about putting his house up (but TRIPLY ironic bc carson pulls off the long con of hiding nancy from the hudsons right under their noses this whole time!) the one time nancy is successful against them

-that bess/lisbeth look while lisbeth does something badass (+diana reassessing now that lisbeth has been revealed to be useful)

-"almost as fun as a real fight" why do i believe him? lmaoooo a bit weird that he would enjoy a fight w a partner, but i also think this is an acknowledgement of nancy being an "opponent" who exists at his level. but i also love the "let me take you out" as a direct mirror of her relationship with nick, where she avoids the public acknowledgment/"going out" but prefers the more subtle/hidden arrangements of staying in. but as shown with later eps, owen is way more capable of meeting nancy where shes at, which is so important to her + the only way of getting close to nancy. (the only foil is ace who somehow is able to do both)

-"not always about a guy" <---- this could have been such a powerful statement if the show had thought having nancy end up alone/choose herself instead of pitting her between love interests (nick, owen, gil, even potentially ace, in only 2 seasons) was a more worthy stance to take ; as an aro/ace person i cant tell you how much i would kill to see just one female protag choose herself over a man. and its more realistic to end up alone than have a happy ending anyway, for all that these shows try to be as "real" and gritty grimdark as possible

-"is that what you want?" this is an interesting question to his mother- like maybe he senses her unhappiness? combined with his issues with his father- still trying to look out for his mom? either way it's sweet. (it could also potentially work as foreshadowing of something happening to her, but i think that was played with but then diverted when it was revealed who really killed her) "i think its time i steer this ship" still kind of patriarchal tho. i get that its him coming into his own as a dad technically but still. i also like how he calls her "mother" and not mom

-love that old white people thumbs up at george asking about his clams 👍🏻

-okay fuck dawn tho lmfaoooo

-"stressful dinner huh?" 😂 i fucking love lisbeth so much why didnt they bring her back (wouldnt it be Fucking Hilarious if they brought lisbeth back to bounce bess on her expired visa since the marvins kicked her out and didnt fix it lmaoooooo)

-BESS IS A TOP lmaooooooo i fuckin knew it

-nick says "you can pay me back" wonder if thats gonna come back in s3 considering their "marital problems" (also, those bonds are sosus lmfaoooo if any single person cashing those was looked at sideways they'd confess in 2 seconds that some random guy is handing out bearer bonds they dont even make anymore with absolutely zero proof as to how he got them)

-"you wanna finish what you started?" 👀 (dont mind if i do)

-"i need my dad back" parallels s2 when she asks him to come home

-parent politics: "you are taking your life in your hands / no, i'm putting it in yours" vs "i know well enough not to get involved when hes in play" both carson and ryan try to dissuade nancy from pursuing her pulling this con on everett but go about it different ways: carson is wildly concerned with nancys physical wellbeing but ryan appears to be leaning more towards weighing the odds for her/ like a "you cant win so cut your losses/dont try" scenario which interestingly might have more weight with nancy; its easy for her to brush aside carson's worrying like second nature but nancy has been established to be a determined winner, and ryan speaks to her here like shes a beginners luck prodigy at a blackjack table by encouraging her to keep her record clean by not dealing in this next round. of course she herself admits shes incapable of not dealing in ie "you know me better than that" but i have lots more thoughts on how effective ryans approaches to nancy can be sometimes (saving for the reveal ep 🙏🏻)

-wonder what all carson knows about the hudsons? + that look on his face when he hangs up... wonder if he was just lying to her about knowing anything or just ashamed at having to admit bad things hes done for them

-love nick & bashiir waiting together 🙏🏻💙+ nicks very strong and pointed "good night" as a means of ending his convo w nancy on his terms (gotta reinforce those boundaries man!)

and lastly

-celia + that gossip girl moment when she just throws the whole phone away 😂(wonder if she was just talking to "gus" or whoever that guy was. keep forgetting the bobbseys' dad is in prison too, wonder if he'll feature in s3)

[birdsaesthetic]

During the Thunderstorm

A/N: So remember when I rambled about this prompt? I couldn’t rest for the whole week until I put it into actual writing 😁 Anyway, I think I mastered it! And I hope you enjoy it! on ff.net

****

"It's only getting worse!" Kurt commented, his attention mainly focused on the view above him, which was limitless sky covered with thick, gray clouds colliding and increasing in size so drastically in matter of seconds.

Jane, just like him, couldn't take her eyes off the sky; it looked breathtaking, frightening, and mesmerizing all at once. "Oh God! We should head back home before this gets any worse and we get stuck here."

They were at Rich's apartment, now standing at the balcony overlooking the whole city, New York City, that now was looking rather like ghosts city, darker than ever, emptier too.

Earlier, when Jane and Kurt were having the ride to Rich's apartment, there wasn't the tiniest suggestion of coming thunderstorm. They hadn't recognized a single cloud in the evening sky, nor had they felt strong blows of winds, though now the weather was moist, and the winds below mostly from the west.

It hadn't been a full hour since they'd made it here, to Rich's place, and they hadn't even had a chance to catch up with the rest of their friends or to finish a full glass of wine just yet. Unfortunately, though, now they were considering heading back to their apartment at a Friday night, which they most of the times—but not this time—spent it either with their friends, or with one another, having a fancy date at a fancy restaurant—but even this option seemed to be stripped away now!

Easy footsteps approached Jane and Kurt from behind, which got both their attention as they glanced over to see that it was Rich steeping closer with all smiles. The second they only just tried to smile back, a great clap of thunder echoed through the sky, which had all three of them flinch, holding their breath. There wasn't any droplet of rain came with it, not yet, only lightning and rumble of thunder.

After Rich let out the breath he'd held, he gasped, "Oh! Seems like Lord is angry at you two," with a smirk, eyeing them in suspicion.

"Why us?" Jane chuckled, rather in nervousness, and with her Kurt chuckled too then took a small sip of the glass of wine he was holding.

"You just missed a hilarious joke I throw at Patterson. Tasha and Reade bursted out laughing." Rich replied, attempting levity, always and forever. "But don't worry; I'll throw plenty of those at each of you for the rest of the night." He smirked some more, then added, "You just stop creeping around and come in join us inside."

Jane cracked a smile then, looking at Rich then back at Kurt, who cleared his throat to say, "I don't think we're going to stay here any longer. The thunderstorm seems to be getting worse, and so we think that we should head back before we get stuck here with you until very late."

Rich quite literally had a panic attack to have heard that from Kurt, showing an absolute disagreement. "No. you're not going anywhere! We're just about to start the night. You can sleep over after that, don't worry."

Jane's brows rose. "Where? On your tiny couch? The two of us?"

To begin his suggestions, Rich stepped closer, managed to sound as convincing as possible, and then said, "Absolutely not! You can have my fancy, marital bed (that I don't have anyone to share it with) and it's behind a closed door. As you may know, I really respect your privacy. And no worries about me, I'll take the couch, happily. Alright? Also, if you two need even more privacy, I can just spend the night with my neighbors here next doors; they're really good people. They love me and I’m sure they wouldn't mind."

Jane couldn't help the wide grin that flashed across her face at how genuinely impressed she was by Rich, and the expressive gestures he'd made, and the concern he'd shown. An old memory she had with him just swiped her mind once he was finished talking, waiting, with all smiles, for an approval from them.

As for Kurt, he felt a slight blush spread over his cheeks at Rich being this generous with them. But after all, and with an apologetic face, he had to say, "Thanks, Rich, but we do have our own bed that we prefer."

"Don't disappoint me! Please, think it over."

"Maybe next time," Jane tried, in a voice rich with sweetness.

"It seems like a perfect time now! We haven’t even caught up yet!" Rich insisted.

"We still can while finishing this class of wine." Kurt said with a wink then took another sip from his win.

Rich would've kept pressing and insisting until the two would give in to his offer, but then, as western winds blew aggressively and he had to narrow his eyes, he gave in, defeated. "God, okay! But don't ever say that Rich isn't a generous friend and never offered us anything!"

Eyelashes fluttering to avoid the wind, Kurt pressed a protective hand over Jane's back, then shook his head and mumbled, "We won't, Rich. Thank you anyway!"

Disappointed Rich could no longer tolerate the heavy winds and the breeze that came with it, and so he retreated from the balcony to the living room, where everybody else gathered.

As soon as Rich departed, Jane turned to face the balcony and shook laughing, covering her mouth with a hand while the other held the glass of red wine. Kurt tried to have a glimpse of her face, tried to grasp what was the fun in that, but only failing in doing so. "What!" He asked then, grinning with a puzzled look. And when Jane surfaced, eyes shining with laughters, voice mixed with the laughters too, she said, "I just remembered something,"

"What is it?"

"It's—breathing—Remember when we first met Rich? The one mission we went undercover as a couple? He talked to me aside, telling me that he'd want to watch us make out together, or maybe he'd meant something more than just that." She laughed some more.

"He did?" a chuckled escaped Kurt's lips.

"He did. Remember how he was so blown away at how we looked good together as a couple?"

"Yeah, we looked good."

"We did."

"And we acted well."

"We did."

"We also danced well."

"That is also true." she rolled her eyes over, grinning.

They shared a loving gaze for some times as the winds flopped Jane's hair in every direction. But then, and as promised, they gathered with the rest and finished their drinks while chatting with their friends for a few more minutes, explaining to them as well that they would have to leave for now in order to get their place safely. Patterson and Reade considered doing the same thing. Tasha, however, could care less about such matters; after all, Reade was her ride, so...it wouldn't be her problem to deal with anyway.

By the time Jane and Kurt kissed their friends quick goodbye, made their way to the building's floor, and pushed themselves through the exit, the weather got a lot worse. No falling rain just yet. But the rumbling of thunders echoed in a powerful way, flashing lights and causing loud, deep noise through the sky.

Lucky Jane leaned to her husband's arm as it wrapped around her middle to keep her impossibly close, as if she were weightless and he were afraid to lose her along with blowing winds. A faint smile played across her lips to that, and she did the same for him, wrapping an arm around him in attempts to maintain some warmth between them. One passing stranger would've thought that they were just new lovers being so excessively romantic even in such circumstances.

After that, they walked against the winds the few paces until they finally reached the car, not necessarily rushing out. Each one of them looked out for the other, holding their breathing until they safely got into the car, Kurt taking the driver seat and Jane the passenger one.

Kurt stared straight ahead at the road and began driving the car, carefully and slowly. The view of the empty streets and the dark, growling sky felt as though the world was oozing toward its end, though there was also a sense of serenity in it.

Halfway through the ride, outside the car cold drops of rain started to fall simultaneously as Jane tuned the radio to a random channel, and it happened to be the weather report announcing and warning that heavy rain and thunderstorms would continue until the next morning.

Jane glanced over at Kurt, who was slightly frowning, his attention poured into the steering wheel and the road ahead of him. For more or less than a minute, she stared at him, not saying anything but only admiring his side profile, and the parted lips that gave him the appearance of someone pouring so much energy into what he was doing.

The rest of the ride passed quietly—well, technically not quietly since the rainfall thrumming all over their car, but the wordless air between them retains an aura of pleasant silence.

"So what's now? Spending a Friday night at our apartment? That never happened!" Kurt wondered, after having made it to their apartment, safe and happy, if they would not complain about how they'd had to stumble across the street from the car to the building as the rain poured so outrageously on them, which resulted in soaking them all over.

Kurt was just shrugging off his Jacket when he said that, and Jane was kneeling down to ditch her dirty pair of shoes. Now she lifted her ducked head to look at him, shrugging, "Umm, I think we should just get comfy in the couch, or our bed."

"Isn't it early for bed?" He thought, roaming across the living room until he stood by her side.

"No! And I'd say the bed. What would you say?" Jane was up on her feet by now.

"Would I ever disagree with you?" He began with the flirting, to which a touch of amusement flickered on Jane's face. She found herself speechless then, unable to form a word, unable to find the right words that would match his. Unique.

She just smiled.

Kurt approached. With his big yet light hands, he unzipped her jacket for her then striped it off. Her gaze lowered to the minimal effort he was putting before he folded it with care and set it upon the couch within his hand's reach. It was made of leather, her jacket, and so whatever she'd worn beneath it was perfectly dry and warm up until now. Thankfully.

She was still smiling when he burrowed his fingertips into the wet of her hair then bent down for a kiss. They shared a light kiss, but when he drove forward for a deeper one, Jane pulled away from his mouth, and smiled at him some more. A little frustrated, he tried again, only to see her slip away from his arms and already at their bedroom door.

Kurt did his simple night routine, which consist of three things: brushing the teeth, rinsing the face, and finally stripping the outer clothes, after that, he rested down on bed, facing the celling, and awaited Jane to come join him. She used extra more minutes in the bathroom, taking her sweet time to dry out all the wetness from her hair. And when she was done with that, she finally joined Kurt in the bedroom, wearing a thin piece of clothing, confident that not cold nor wind would reach her here and now.

Kurt spotted her when she first emerged, but he noticed that she didn't come join him in the bed just yet. Instead, she walked, almost blindly, across the room, farther from him. His eyes watched her move with easy footsteps toward the window, as if being drawn by a magnet. The more she stepped, the rumbling sound of the thunderstorm became like screams in her ears. She almost decided to turn around and go snuggle inside her husband's arms, who was mere feet away from here, but she exhaled and finally reached it there.

Her hands first clutched at the rough fabric of the curtains before spreading them wide open. What she saw outside the window sent a tremor through her spine: tremendous, angry thunderstorm shudder through the early night sky, throwing lights consistently. Rain pelted the glass, and judging from its aggressiveness, it looked like it was threatening to last forever like this but not until tomorrow's morning.

Jane loved the rain, however aggressive. She loved watching it from a cozy place as it poured down and enriched the nature. Each raindrop seemed to come down with a promising hint. Just the rain would be fine, however not with the lights flashing...

The sky lit up with another flash, and soon followed by another loud thunder. Her heart skipped a beat from within her chest, but then she raised a hand and pressed it against the window's glass, as if the glass were invisible and she would run her hand under the rain. But when all she felt against her palm was the glass's coolness, she sort of scowled. Just then that she pressed harder, wishing if she could feel it, the dropping rain, only to feel the sweat of her own palm.

Kurt called her name from across the room, having waited long enough, and disappointed Jane spun around to the growling of his voice, open-mouthed.

Eyes fluttering, peering through the muted lighting of the room, she caught Kurt's eyes from a distance nonetheless. Leaving the open curtains forgotten behind her, she tried a smile then finally joined him in the bed, sitting on his lap, with her legs on either side of him while he was laying back, eyes alert and shining, fixed on hers.

Happy to have her back in his hand reach, Kurt welcomed her with his warm hands gliding up and down from her waist to her ass. "You brought us bed early so you could keep vigil at the rain?" He said in whispers.

"No. So I could make love to you." She corrected.

Both smiled a knowing smile and closed their eyes as Jane brought herself lower to him then pressed her lips against his own. After a brief kiss, Kurt reopened his eyes, only to see her smile creep onto his face, as if glued on her lips; her smile never dropped off.

Feeling so much affection for her, Kurt shifted, got up, eager to keep her legs still around his waist, and then drove forward for another kiss. She hummed against his mouth, curling her arms around his shoulders and feeling that his hair still damp from the rain. Then, she pulled a little back, glanced at the window, then back at him. "I'm worried about whom without homes right now."

"Yeah, hope everyone stays safe." Kurt said softly. "But since you're safe, I'm not that worried to be honest."

Jane furrowed her brow. "Never thought I'd live to hear you say that!"

"Say what?"

"That you're not really worried about everything and everyone!"

"I'm worried about you!"

"I know, but you used to worry about everything and everyone else."

"That was a long time before. Now I have only one priority."

Again, Kurt had charmed her by his choice of words, to which Jane found herself speechless.

After that, she felt him sneak his hands beneath her top, seemingly desperate for more skin-to skin connect. As amazing as it felt, feeling his warm hands directly against her skin, she had to prevent him from getting there, pushing him gently to collapse against the mattress. Kurt did nothing in protest against that, knowing what she was doing and why; she wanted to make love to him, in her own way, is all. Now all he did, though, was match her smile as she petted his damp hair like a good dog.

From her point of view, his lips looked parted, aching to be kissed again, but she only outlined them with an index finger, and let her do so for awhile, then he slid out his tongue and licked, then sucked on her finger, which made her moan out loud, arch at the slightest feel of him, feel dizzy with the image of him all inside her, despite he barely had done anything yet.

His hands, once again, worked their way to her top, tugging on it. It was so thin that he could actually see the tattoos through it, her inked nipples, too—it really was no use having it on!

"Come on, lose the top, I've seen you a million times before." He pleaded, as her finger continued to draw random patterns all over his chin and lips.

"It's not about you've seen me before!" She retorted.

"So it's about what?" He asked, dumbfounded.

She fixed her spine, after having been hunched over him, and pressed her palms against his broad chest, then said, "It's about you've seen me a million times before yet you're dying from the inside now to see me once more!"

He chuckled, "And what if I want to see you once more?"

"Of course I'll show you what you want to see, honey." She reassured, to which his face broke into the widest grin in silent thanks.

As promised, she pulled the top over her head then put it aside, before which she rolled her eyes in a way she seemed to really enjoy pleasing him to the point of bursting but also feeling a little stubborn to show it. He, as a reaction, felt the satisfaction run throughout his veins, looking at her with pure desire as his shoulders relaxed, and his forehead softened.

She was so damn beautiful, had always been. Every time he ever saw her, he'd wondered how she looked this beautiful, slim yet surprisingly strong. Sometimes he'd wondered to himself, other times he'd told her that, out loud—just like this time. "How are you this beautiful! I'm so grateful that you're the one I married, and you became my wife, now I can touch you, everywhere, and we can make love, anytime. Well, whenever we can, right? Can we...now?"

Having heard that, Jane helplessly pulsed for him between her legs, imagining the feel of him there, against her thighs, the sparking center of her desire. And then, she gasped out a triumphant laugh before she bent low, nuzzling against his nose as she whispered, "Of course we can, honey."

She locked her eyes with his as she got to her feet, cast down the rest of her clothes, then climbed back on top of him. She could feel him now, beneath her, impossibly hard like a steel despite how they were barely getting started—they even hadn't bothered with foreplay.

After matching her, casting down the only piece of clothing he had on, Kurt helped Jane to rise and squirm here and there until their body joined together. Before doing anything farther, the two stole a moment of appreciation, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and mind running a mile a minute at how much they wanted each other, badly so.

As if going to dive into the ocean, Jane drew in a deep breath then begun riding him with a good deal of effort. She momentarily lost control of her eyes so they fell close, and her jaw dropped as Kurt gripped onto her hips to brass her firmly; not to arch or slip or something.

The rain continued to fall heavily, pelting at the window's glass, its sound pouring into their ears with the loud rumble in the sky from the outside. But they got used to it by now, and it felt like a nice addition, like an encouraging soundtrack.

They moved so slowly together along with the steady thrum on the windows, making the minimalist effort. The moment Jane reopened her eyes, she caught him look at her fondly during moving with him. The little glint in his eyes, admiring her small breasts bounce with the movements, with the effort she was making, admiring how gorgeous she looked in pleasure all because of him... Or the fact that her hair was brushing against his face and it might've scratched his eyes yet he didn't bother to close them...

The mutual desire increased in intensity the same way the thunderstorm had earlier today. Extremely. But it wasn't until a series of great claps of thunder echoed, howling, crying, warning, and baying like a wolf from within their room that Jane steeled, stopping completely, and stayed herself by gripping onto his shoulders. Kurt's eyes were bright, teasing in the semidarkness and she was digging her nails into him as if to hold on for their life as she looked down at him. He brought her head to him then kissed her softly in the lips, whispering something she couldn't hear. Perhaps something reassuring.

Heart pumping, too stunned to think, let alone move, Jane used a few seconds to breathe, and then she resumed moving. But the thunder wouldn't shut up, so she was still distracted, mind else where, Kurt could tell.

"Focus on me, honey." He whispered, his voice sweet.

"I'm with you." She breathed, barely having found her voice as she moved clumsily against him.

"Are you?"

She sighed, realizing he was right. "Sorry, but it feels like the whole ceiling is going to collapse upon us and with it all the walls will come down, and I'm steeling—"

"Wanna come beneath me, so I take the hit when that happens?" He chuckled.

"Kurt..."

Their bodies were still joined when she found herself beneath him a second later. He kissed her hard then whispered, "It's okay, you're safe, here with me. Just give me your absolute attention and I'll make you forget everything happening in the world right now. I'll stop the time for you if you want me to."

"You know how to butter me up, huh!" She whispered, holding his cheeks.

"Don't I?" He whispered back, then chuckled right against her mouth, which sent his warm, wet breath against her skin, which also tickled her nose a little. She curled up her lips in the tiniest of smiles, despite how anxious she was feeling. "Slowly, okay?"

"Don't you worry." He promised.

She blinked at his promise, then wasted her breath on kissing him, withdrawing strength from him. A few seconds later, he began thrusting into her, rising and falling, slow as promised, but also determined.

He truly could make her forget about everything else once he was atop her, inside her, his body fussing with hers, feeding hers.

The sky shook with cries of the thunder again and again. The rain raged on. But they didn't even flinch at it, they rocked together with matching possessions, desperate for release, but also eager for this moment to last.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne. 

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open. 

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me. 

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour. 

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright. 

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for. 

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now. 

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it. 

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes:  And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me. 

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave. 

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it. 

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money. 

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel. 

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent. 

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it? 

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes. 

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious. 

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series – ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all. 

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate. 

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved. 

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that. 

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading. 

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.