#keep in mind i have the world's loudest toilet.

[brudiza-spudnik]

they say cumming in the sink is better than sinking in the cum but that becomes less true when the sink starts to clog

[fairyoftbz]

il y aura des jours meilleurs | c. chanhee

🖤 pairing: bf!chanhee x fem!reader 🖤 word count: 2k 🖤 genre: angst, comfort, fluff 🖤 tw: negative thoughts, hints of depressive thoughts and struggling  🖤 synopsis: you’re exhausted to the point of giving up but Chanhee is your source of hope and here for you. 🖤 a/n: happy birthday to our pretty boi chanhee!! 💌 i’m currently watching him decorate his cake and talk, he’s so cute :(( i know it’s a bit of a sad story for his birthday but i really wanted to write something for him and my french project! i hope it’ll be enough!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

You sighed as you walked through your front door, carelessly tossing your belongings on the floor. Not even bothering about hanging your jacket and light scarf, you walked in the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet seat. Closing your eyes, it was hard to be positive at this point. It was the third bad day in a row, and it started to really look like the world was planning a mischievous plan to ruin your life. Out of the last week, you couldn’t even point out a positive thing that had happened. Well, Chanhee’s presence and his love always managed to make you smile and feel comforted, but today, it looked like it wouldn’t be sufficient to see the idea of a smile on your face. The permanent frown that you kept on wearing left you with a pounding headache, your surroundings becoming slightly dizzy.

You were impressed when you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry no matter how hard you tried. This lump in your throat and the weight you felt in your chest didn’t seem to subside when you got out of the boiling shower you’ve just had, so you gave up in trying to feel better for tonight.

“Just not this week,” you mumbled to yourself as you lazily dried your hair with a towel before applying some face cream. It was such an exhausting task for you to execute, but you would hate yourself even more in the morning if you saw breakouts appearing because of the dryness of your skin. It was already hard enough for you to control your emotions, your current goal was to not pile up things that could actually ruin your day or make you insecure even more.

You sighed again, deeper this time when you noticed yourself into the foggy mirror. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you tried to tame down the negative thoughts that were starting to cloud your mind, finally feeling the tears filling your eyes, but you didn’t feel any better. You wiped them away with the back of your hand, quickly applying your serum before switching the lights off and walk out of the bathroom.

With clenched jaws, you stared at the kitchen as you stood in the middle of the corridor, not feeling like eating anything right now. You just weren’t hungry, and even your favourite meal wouldn’t be able to change that. Chanhee would usually scold you when skipped meals out of pure stress or just because you didn’t have time, but today, it was different. Yeah, you weren’t hungry, but you also didn’t feel like cooking at all. It would require too many efforts for you to even get a pan out of the drawer, your stomach twisting uncomfortably at the mere idea of food.

Falling head first into your pillow, you stifled a dry sob as you held the comforter tight against your chest, taking deep breaths as you were trying to calm down. Many thoughts were running inside your mind and you felt like drowning and suffocating in your own sorrow, not knowing what to do or how to act to get better. With your hands covering your face, you allowed yourself to let the tears of despair roll down your cheeks in the quietest way possible. 

The pressure in your chest didn’t magically fade away as you had hoped to, it simply worsened. Having a hard time breathing, you opened your mouth wide and took deep breaths as you tried your hardest to get better, but nothing didn’t really work.

So you gave up. You let the tears flood your entire face and neck and cry in the loudest way possible, not feeling any better. The sorrows living in your body intensified, tightening your throat in the most painful way as you tried to subside your own cries.

You froze when you saw the lights of the corridor flicker open, pressing a hand on your mouth to muffle any sound that could come out of it, the tears filling up your eyes making everything around you blurry and messy. Pursing your lips and closing your eyes, you recognised your boyfriend’s steps walking around the apartment as big tears kept rolling down your face.

Chanhee opened the front door, the darkness and the silence of the apartment welcoming him in. He frowned as the atmosphere felt weird, unusual. He knew something was wrong when he noticed that your coat was messily lying around the floor, the light of the bathroom wall cabinet not properly turned off, like you always made sure to do it. Chanhee looked around the apartment, and you were nowhere to be seen. It’s when he took off his shoes and partially pushed the bedroom door open that he noticed your figure, lying in bed.

You turned to your side, back facing the door as you heard your boyfriend getting closer, hand still on your mouth as you tried to look and sound asleep. Focusing on your heartbeat, you managed to calm down a bit and get a grip on your emotions for a quick second, slowly feeling numb. You closed your eyes and tried to follow a regular breathing pattern to make your boyfriend believe that you were already sleeping, and waited.

The latter entered the bedroom on his tiptoes, a knee on the mattress as it dipped under his weight, the young man stretching his neck over your shoulders to see you asleep. He delicately removed a strand of hair from your face and kissed your cheek, frowning and retracted his mouth as he felt a wet sensation lingering on his lips. He gently caressed your head as he felt the saltiness when his tongue met his lips, the dots connecting in his head.

You waited for him to close the door and leave to sigh and wince, realising that you’ll have to talk to him about your damp cheeks. The tears welled back up when you didn’t want to talk to anyone about what was happening inside your head. You hated when your boyfriend saw you like that, because you knew that Chanhee cared for you and wanted to help you. You also knew it was coming from a good intention, but you didn’t feel like getting anyone’s help right now.

Chanhee came to bed a few minutes later, blindly wandering to the bed to not wake you up by turning on the lights. He stayed silent for a moment as your back was still facing him, hearing him sigh as he pulled the covers on his body. He took your stillness as a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him, because he knew that you weren’t asleep yet. He knew you too well to know that you were pretending, but he also knew that it was your toxic way of coping with your feelings.

Later that night, as the clock struck 3 am, you were still wide awake, resting on your back with your hands joined on your stomach, blankly staring at the ceiling as loud and intrusive thoughts invaded your brain. Chanhee was innocently sleeping next to you, a hand extended towards you as if it were a subconscious offer from him to hold his hand. As stubborn as you were and for the third time this week, you refused to get his help, even if you knew deep down that you needed it very badly. 

You knew that he could actually help you, but it was easier for you to stay in your sorrow and lament yourself until you felt numb, rather than getting help and get back on the path or happiness. You always acted like this, and you never bothered to change any of your unhealthy coping mechanisms.

However, a tiny voice in your head almost begged you to reach out to hold his hand. Your chest tightened as you stared at his slender digits, whose touch never failed to give you reassurance and comfort. Him caressing your arms or cheeks was a sensation that you discovered when you started dating, and it became just as addictive as a drug. You needed it to feel better and worth it. It was as if the remedy was within easy reach, but you didn’t dare touching it because it was sacred. Though luckily this time, you decided to gather your strength and change things.

Chanhee got drawn away from his slumber as he felt a familiar hand touching him, your digits closing around his hand. He opened his eyes and turned to look at you, the shallow lights of the city illuminating the bedroom. Noticing your pearly eyes, he scooted closer to you and wrapped his arms around you, feeling you burst into tears against his shoulder.

“Shh baby. Breathe Y/N, breathe,” he said as his hand touched the back of your head, gently rubbing it to soothe you. “I- I can’t… I can’t do it anymore,” you managed to stutter as you gasped for air, your sobs being so intense that you could barely focus on anything else. “Don’t say things like that, I know you can,” he mumbled in your ear, but you shook your head. “I’m so tired… I’m so exhausted,” his hand gently massaged your head as he repositioned himself under you, your head now on his chest.

His calm heartbeat resonated in your ear, trying to shoo away the negative thoughts in your head. Chanhee didn’t say anything, he understood that he wouldn’t be able to convince you tonight. His chances will probably be higher by tomorrow when you’ll have calmed down from all your tormenting emotions.

“I know it won’t change anything about how you feel, but I love you and I care for you. There are harder times than others and you are going through one right now. it’s okay to feel bad, it’s okay to feel down, but the most important thing is to not give up. It’s completely normal to feel discouraged, but you have to keep going, for your own sake. And I’m here for you, no matter how lonely you felt, I’ll be by your side,” you nodded at his words, head still pressing against his chest as you tried to get his heartbeat to calm you down.

Chanhee softly rubbed your back and kissed the side of your head, knowing that you weren’t convinced at all. He cleared his throat and held you tighter, pulling the comforter higher to cover your shivering figure.

“Trust me, love, there will be better days, I promise. Those are not just words into the void, I mean them. You are going through a tough time right now, but I guarantee you that you will get better. It will take time and efforts and I know how tried you are but keep fighting. Look how far you’ve come, you always did a great job to stand back up and keep going, don’t let it ruin all the efforts you’ve gathered until now. Do it for yourself, and also for me, for us,” you looked up at him with shiny eyes and he nodded, assuring you that he meant every single word he said. 

Your boyfriend wiped the salty pearls away from your eyes and gently smiled at you, hand cradling your cheek.

“Rest now, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” you tiredly mumbled, feeling tired after all your crying. “I love you too, please never forget that,” his thumb gently rubbed the skin under your eye, instantly wiping the last few tears that you shed before falling asleep out of exhaustion, in your lover’s arms.

Chanhee sighed, tongue poking his inner cheek in frustration. He hated seeing you this down and broken, but he had faith in you. He knew that it was just temporary, that you wouldn’t give up even if you said you would. He was confident that you would jump back up on your feet and keep going, just like you’ve been doing until now. You were strong even if you never admitted it.

“I promise, there will be better days,” he whispered in your ear as he slowly slid down in the bed until his head rested on his pillow, keeping you close to his chest as he fell back asleep, just like you did a few seconds ago.

╰ It’s gonna be okay. You are going to be okay. ╮

[ma-sulevin]

otp questions

Tagged by @chyrstis​! Doing Sharky and Mattie for this one...

(art by @ziorre​)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Neither one of them really yells at the other one. Sharky’s voice is naturally louder, but Mattie’s more likely to speak sharply.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither of them. Mattie wouldn’t threaten that because it’s mean, and it would really hurt Sharky’s feelings, and threatening that would never cross Sharky’s mind.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Neither.

Who trashes the house? Sharky’s naturally messier. If Mattie was away for a while, he’d forget to clean up after himself the whole time and spend HOURS before she showed back up trying to make sure everything’s perfect again.

Do either of them get physical? Never ever. Sharky would rather die than hit his partner, and Mattie would leave the second that ever happened.

How often do they argue/disagree? Not super often? They have minor disagreements occasionally, mostly about how to handle life in the post-apocalyptic world.

Who is the first to apologize? Sharky. Usually, he’s just sad about it and wants them to be done arguing, and whatever they were disagreeing about isn’t important enough for them to keep going with it. 

SEX

Who is on top? Sharky’s the penetrating partner, but Mattie’s more dominant.

Who is on the bottom? See above!

Who has the strangest desires? We all know who has the weird desires in a Sharky ship.

Any kinks? Not in particular? Sharky’s up for almost anything, but he’s not going to bring it up if he thinks Mattie won’t like it. Mmm, I forgot some stuff I decided Sharky likes, but it’s gross and I’m not talking about it.

Who’s dominant in bed? Mattie for sure.

Is head ever in the equation? Like, all the time.

If so, who is better at performing it? It’s not that Mattie’s bad, it’s just that Sharky’s really, really good.

Ever had sex in public? Not where people could catch them, but they’ve definitely had sex outside. Like, a lot. Especially once they’re living their best post-bunker lives.

Who moans the most? They’re both loud and gross.

Who leaves the most marks? Sharky for sure. He likes to see the evidence that they’ve been together, and he likes that she’s proud to show them off a little.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Sharky’s had more partners, but Mattie’s probably had more sex.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Make love, mostly

Rough or soft? Usually soft, but not always. Sometimes you just gotta fuck.

How long do they usually last? I'm not really sure how to answer this? As long as it takes, I guess. Sometimes they like to tease.

Is protection used? Mattie’s not on any hormonal birth control. They use condoms until the condoms run out, and then they just try to make sure Sharky pulls out. Uh, they have a whole baby when they make it back out into the real world.

Does it ever get boring? Never.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Things don’t really get weirder than in the bunker with Sharky’s whole family.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? They both wanted kids eventually, but they didn’t want them as soon as they had one. Harrison was definitely an accident, and Mattie doesn’t exactly love being pregnant. Sharky likes it more than she does, honestly.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They end up with four. Harrison who was the accident, then they on purpose have Ian, Ripley, and Max all about four or so years apart.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them! They are so gross about it. Disgusting.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They’re both always down to clown.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Mattie, but Sharky’s not exactly upset about it.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Sharky sometimes gets too hot, but he doesn’t want to tell her to go away. They both soak it right up.

Who gives the most kisses? Mattie loves those smooches.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? They like cuddling and just hanging out together. They’d watch movies if they still had access to all of that.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The couch or their bed.

How often do they get time to themselves? Less often the older they get. They almost always have little kids around, and then the Highwaymen come to the county and it’s a whole damn thing.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Sharky. Mattie does only when she’s pregnant.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Mattie.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share. They’re all over each other.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? They cozy right the fuck up, especially in winter.

What do they wear to bed? Ideally, nothing, but usually shorts and t-shirts because of kids and roommates (Hurk).

Are either of them insomniacs? Sharky is. He has a hard time shutting his brain off enough to fall asleep, and once he wakes up in the middle of the night, he has a hard time relaxing again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nah.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Oh wrapped up for sure.

Who wakes up with bed hair? They both do, but Mattie has more hair so sometimes it’s crazier.

Who wakes up first? If Sharky is still asleep when the sun comes up, then Mattie gets up first. If Sharky’s going to be awake early, it’s because he woke up randomly at four am and decided to start his day.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Mattie’s not bringing him breakfast, but he’ll do it for her sometimes.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Spooning! Or Sharky on his back and Mattie on top of him like a starfish.

Do they set an alarm each night? Mattie would, but they don’t need to.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Sharky would LOVE to have a TV on 24/7.

Who has nightmares? They both do, especially after everything they’ve been through with the cult situation.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Sharky, definitely.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Sharky’s just a bigger person, but Mattie doesn’t care because she wants to touch as much of him as possible anyway.

Who makes the bed? Who has time for that, really?

What time is bed time? Whenever they get sleepy!

Any routines/rituals before bed? They read to the kids (or tell made-up stories) and then get some good snuggle time in.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Sharky is, if he didn’t wake up naturally.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Mattie

Who rakes in the highest income? It’s hard to say under this situation

Are any of them unemployed? Technically they both are. It’s the apocalypse!

Who takes the most sick days? Mattie gets sick slightly more often, but they can’t really take sick days

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Sharky's way worse at keeping time

Who sucks up to their boss? Sharky would be, but it’s totally unintentional

What are their jobs? They’re just like. Survivors.

Who stresses the most? It depends on the situation, really? They stress about different things.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Mattie misses some of the comforts of pre-war, but Sharky loves how things are now. It’s the ideal situation for him.

Are they financially stable? They don’t go hungry, so yes.

HOME

Who does the washing? Mattie has more patience for doing a good job.

Who takes out the trash? They both do. They have to be careful about it because of the wild animal situation.

Who does the ironing? Who has time to iron?

Who does the cooking? Mattie is better at cooking, but they take turns with it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Sharky, obviously 

Who is messier? Sharky

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Sharky but totally unintentionally

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Sharky, but again, unintentionally

Who forgets to flush the toilet? I’m not sure there are working toilets in the post-apocalyptic world, so...

Who is the prankster around the house? Sharky would be

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Sharky loses them all the time. He just puts them down and forgets where.

Who mows the lawn? There’s not a lot of need for lawn care. 

Who answers the telephone? Mattie would

Who does the vacuuming? They’ll both sweep the house when it needs to be swept

Who does the groceries? Sharky will go out on supply runs more often than Mattie, but it’s because they want her to stay with the kids.

Who takes the longest to shower? It depends on whether or not Sharky wants to jerk off.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? Nah

How many cars do they own? They always have at least one working vehicle, and usually others they can break apart for scrap

Do they own their home or do they rent? Well, they say possession is 9/10ths of the law, so...

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country. 

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Honestly? They really do.

What’s their song? Burn Like A Star Fire by Sleeping Wolf

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Basically whatever they have to do before they can get back together. Just what needs to be done -- taking care of the kids, supply runs, etc.

Where did they first meet? Same way it happens in-game. She finds him in the Moonflower and he falls in love immediately.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Sharky's more impulsive about it, but there’s not a lot of actual purchasing happening? It’s more like grabbing whatever he thinks they need or would be fun.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Sharky for sure.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over themselves? As long a there isn’t an actual injury, they both think it’s pretty funny.

Any mental issues? Mattie’s absurdly resilient mentally. She has nightmares from the cult situation, but only when she’s already otherwise stressed, and she has some minor PPD after the babies, but overall she’s really mentally healthy. Sharky has some ADHD issues, but nothing that’s holding him back now.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Mattie, but moreso because she doesn’t want anyone catching any weird germs from them.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Whoever sees it first.

Their favourite place? At home together.

Who pays the bills? No bills after the end of the world, but they work together to provide for their family.

Do they have any fears for their future? The future is incredibly uncertain. They’re always worried about illness or injury that wouldn’t have been serious before but is now, and that only heightens when the Highwaymen come around.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Mattie, just because she’s better at planning ahead for it.

Who’s the tallest? Sharky.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? They’ll both do this, but I’m going to say Mattie probably does it more regularly.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Sharky more than Mattie.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Sharky does everything louder lol

What do they tease each other about? Everything, honestly. It’s a fun relationship

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Mattie 100%. She loves Sharky, but... let’s be honest. The New Dawn look? Not great.

Who crushed first? Sharky fell had and fell fast, but Mattie wasn’t all that long behind him

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Sharky probably drinks a little more heavily than is healthy, but it’s not an abuse problem

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Uh, well, Sharky.

Who swears the most? They both swear a lot. They try to clean up for the kids, but... it’s hard.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (10/?)

AO3

Friday finally rolls around again, and Janis is packing up her stuff again and getting ready to go home. Her mom is down the hall with some of the other kid’s moms, probably swapping stories about treatments and comparing the nurses.

As Janis has bonded with the kids on the ward, the parents have done the same; meeting for coffee in the hospital cafeteria or gathering in someone’s empty room to chat. Sometimes it’s about cancer, of course, but their topics have been getting more and more diverse lately. Just days ago Janis walked in on her mom discussing gardening with none other than Maddie’s mom and she’s overheard them talking about the Kardashians over breakfast. And of course, their moms talk about what they were like as little kids, and it’s painfully embarrassing. Janis has joked to Melissa more than once that she’s tempted to request painkillers so she can knock herself out. They also started jokingly referring to themselves as the “cancer moms”, and last night her mom showed Janis the group chat they’d created with the same name. Janis’ jaw had nearly hit the floor and all she said was that she hoped they weren’t planning on getting t-shirts.

Still, she thinks with a smile, at least her mom is making friends here.

She rolls up her sweater and shoves it into her bag, sure it’s wrinkled but it’s going straight into the laundry once she gets in. On Melissa’s advice, she’s started doing most of her laundry at home where she can control when and how it happens (and by that she means she can tell her mom how to do it). Bless the laundry service here, because they really do try, but more often than not her sweaters come back stiff and there’s nothing like pulling her clothes straight out of the dryer at home.

With her clothes in the bag, she gets up from where she was kneeling on the floor, shakes out her stiff legs, and moves over to the bathroom. Her make-up bag sits on the sink, the mascara and tube of lipstick strewn across the shelf along with her hairbrush. Her face is bare today, make-up having slipped her mind again between treatments and appointments and hospital life. She checks it in the mirror, sighing deeply at what she sees. Cady swears up and down she looks the same as she always did whenever they Facetime and her mom hasn’t made any comments, but she can tell there’s a difference now. Those dark shadows have taken up permanent residence under her eyes and sometimes it’s hard for her to tell what’s her face and what’s her sheets. There’s so many changes that no-one seems to notice but her.

Maybe she’s looking too hard, or maybe she just knows what to look for.

With an idea sparking in her mind, she reaches over and grabs the make-up bag. She checks her watch, finding that they still have plenty of time before she’s discharged. And sure she could spend that time continuing to pack, but this is more fun. It’s still productive, just not in the way people would think it. And fine, maybe she just needs it right now. So she unscrews the lid of the foundation and gets to work before she can talk herself out of it.

At least her hands aren’t shaking today. She learned the hard way that no matter how hard you believe you can apply your make-up while your hands are shaking, you can’t.

Even with her steady hands though, she’s not doing much. Kind of because she’s on a schedule and kind of because she’s not seeing anyone important. It’s not like when Cady and Damian are coming over and she spends an hour building the best version of herself for them. She just wants to look like a human, rather than this half-zombie that’s taken her place in the mirror. So she hides the darkness behind foundation and fills out her cheeks, paints over her lips with purple, rings her eyes in black and makes her eyelashes bigger.

She can’t quite pin down the feeling she’s having as she goes along. What she does know that the more she puts on, the better she feels when she looks in the mirror. Yes, she should know better by that, and she does. Kind of. This isn’t the old kind of preteen insecurity. She’s had enough of Cady’s speeches about natural beauty to chase all those fears away. But she’d wager Cady has never been spooked by what she saw in the mirror before, so what would she know?

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself. She drops the mascara tube back in the bag and zips it shut. “Can you stop being so dramatic?” She looks up at the mirror again, giving herself a smile. There she is. Good old, normal Janis. She lets out a breath and takes the tie out of her hair, letting it fall past one shoulder. She must have forgotten about brushing it as well.

“Easily fixed.”

She runs the brush through her hair, humming under her breath and trying to think of what else she should be packing, checking off the little boxes in her brain and the excitement at going home daring to creep in.

Until she pulls the brush away and feels a lot more come with it.

No she thinks.

She keeps her eyes locked on her reflection’s, willing herself not to look at it. If she doesn’t look, it doesn’t exist. She doesn’t normally like uncertainty, but she’ll gladly take it here if the reality is this. Her hand is frozen in place, her fingers still curled around the brush’s handle. Her other hand grabs the sink. The cold of the metal creeps through her skin and into her veins, travelling through her just like her chemo does.

The stupid freaking chemo. Her IV stands behind her, mocking her even if she’s not using it. If this is what she thinks it is, this is the reason why.

“Okay,” she whispers. She shakes out her hands and wriggles her toes to try to get any feeling back into them. “Okay, come on.” She tries to imagine her friends next to her, giving her advice, but their words fade away before they reach her. Of course they do. She can’t know what they’d say to her about this. She can guess, but she can’t know. Besides, she can barely think when she’s like this, when her brain is shutting down and running away from her she’s being left to fend for herself.

It’s the ticking behind her, the loudest sound in the room, that gets her to calm down. Even when she wants to stop, the world moves on, and her mom is coming back in here any second. Meaning she needs to be herself when she does. So she looks and presses her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

Her hair is in the brush. Not a few strands of it, a whole clump of black and blonde hands from her brush. Her hand goes to the spot it had been, amazed that there’s anything left. When her fingers brush against her scalp, a whimper escapes her mouth before she can think to stop it.

Her hair fell out.

Her hair is falling out.

How does she react to this? Has anyone told her how to react? No, of course not, because she hasn’t asked. Denial and blind hope can run deep. If she doesn’t think about it, it doesn’t happen. Only now it has happened, is happening, and she’s heading into it blind whether she wants to or not.

Denial seems to be the most attractive option, so she jumps to it. She rips the clump off the brush, shuddering as it slides between her fingers, and she drops it into the toilet, letting it be flushed down the drain and out to sea. Far out of sight and hopefully, far out of mind.

She looks at the brush for a moment, recoiling away from it like it’s a snake. What she wants to do it throw it away too, just like the clump, and her mom is the only reason she doesn’t. Instead she throws it into her bag, burying it down at the bottom.

“Okay.” She lets out a breath and kneels back on her heels, her hands held out as if she’s reaching for something. Like she can just grab an answer out of thin air. “Come on, you’re smarter than that,” she whispers. There isn’t an answer here, not to this. This happens to cancer patients, all the time. What made her think herself so special she was above it? It’s already happened to some people, like Maddie for example, who runs around in beanies all day. She knew it would happen on that first day in the doctor’s office with the kids on the poster.

She’s going to become a kid on a poster.

She bawks at the idea and her hand instinctively flies to her head. Her fingers cautiously move over the black waves, barely touching anything lest she take any more out.

Breathe she tells herself. In for eight, out for eight. She’s been through this, on both sides of it, and yet this is worse. Like every time before this was a jogging and this is running a marathon. Even as she stumbles towards the finish line, her vision clearing and her brain calming itself enough to think, the tightness in her chest is still there. She wraps one clammy, cold hand around her bedpost and pulls herself up, her other hand shoved into her pocket, and keeps on counting her breaths. When she glances up, she catches sight of herself in the mirror and it’s with relief that she sees how normal she looks. For her, the entire world has shattered around her, but for everyone else, it’s just another day.

She’s so good at faking it that her mom doesn’t notice anything wrong for the next hour as they get ready to go. No one does, not the nurses who do last checks and bid her goodbye for the week, nor the receptionist who checks her and her mom out. Maybe she can fake it long enough until…

She’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

“Janis!” Maddie runs across the room towards her, her little beanie tight over her head. Much as Janis tries, and crappy as she feels, it’s almost all she can see on the girl.

“Hey, kid,” she says, clearing her throat. She swallows everything else she’s thinking and holds out her fist for a first pump. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“No promises.” She steps closer to her, her chin tilted upwards, and pulls Janis down to her. Excitement gleams in her eyes, but Janis barely notices it; she’s too bust thinking about how few eyelashes she has. That hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Her throat runs dry.

“Hey, I heard that the Make A Wish Foundation came to you,” she whispers.

“Oh, and where did you hear that?”

“From my mom,” she admits sheepishly. “She heard it from your mom.”

“Word sure travels fast in here,” she says flatly.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” she asks.

“Not yet,” she says. “Haven’t thought about it too much.” She lets Maddie drag her over to the couches and sit her down, the wide eyed look never leaving the kid’s face. “What did you do for yours?”

“Oh, I went to see Frozen on Broadway,” she blurts out, her smile exploding on her little face. “And I got to go backstage and meet the cast. They gave us front row seats as well. It was the best day of my life.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Janis tells her. “My friend Damian, he’s a big musical theatre geek. He really wants to see Frozen.”

“I just really love Frozen,” Maddie says. “And Elsa, obviously.”

“We do love Queen Elsa.” Just then, Janis wonders if she ever used to braid her hair like Elsa. Janis hasn’t, and it hits her that if she wants to, she might have to do it fast.

“Just make sure it’s something you really want,” she advises her. “I stressed so much over it. It ended up being between Frozen and Disneyland.”

“How ever did you manage?” Janis says dryly. She looks up just in time to see her mom waving her over, phone in hand, letting her know her dad is in the parking lot. “I gotta go, kid. See you next week.”

“See you later,” she says. “Oh, by the way, I meant to give you this at movie night, but I forgot.” She reaches into her pocket and hands her a scrap of pink paper folded into a square. Inside, Janis finds the word MaddieThePanda and madisonrichards written in pencils. Embarrassingly, it takes her a second to recognise them, but the first has a drawing of a ghost and the second a doodle of a camera.

“Ah, the socials,” she says. Maddie nods, avoiding her eyes, and Janis pulls her into a light hug before getting up. “I’ll follow you the minute I get home, okay?”

“Awesome!” she squeaks and she scampers off, leaving Janis to join her mom.

“She’s a nice girl,” her mom comments as they ride down the elevator.

“You’re quite pally with her mom,” Janis says. “She’s in the cancer mom squad, right?”

“She is. So what did Maddie give you?”

“Instagram and Snapchat,” she replies, holding the piece of paper between her fingers. Janis’ own Instagram has been fairly barren since this started, despite how much she scrolls through her own feed and watches her friends’ accounts. Even her art account has been empty for a while. Unsurprisingly, she hasn’t felt like posting much. And she’s very much aware of the fact that she might be posting a lot less in the near future.

“Are you okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine.” She readjusts the mask she’s had on all day and falls back on her usual line. “I’m just tired.” The best thing about that line is that technically it’s not a lie.

When she does get home, she sets herself up on the couch, blanket thrown over her and phone in hand. Her dad sits on the chair next to her and a gameshow plays on the TV. This has become some kind of tradition between she and her dad. And Maxie, of course. Despite how much she’s missed her bed, she’s missed her dad more, so she stretches out on the couch with a blanket fresh from the dryer and the two of them catch up. And if (and when) the conversation runs dry, they can shout answers at the TV.

“Alex Kingston,” she says, nodding at the question. British Actors Who Were On Doctor Who. Which really is all of Britain. “Told you that Doctor Who obsession I had in middle school would come in handy.”

“Did you tell me that?” her dad asks. “I cannot remember you telling me that.”

“I did.” Still watching, she opens her phone and taps open Instagram. The little scrap of paper sits on her lap and she types Maddie’s name into the searchbar. She finds her account fairly easily, but she’s in for a shock when she does.

Maddie’s healthy self is on this account. It does look like her, it’s unmistakable, but it still shakes her to see her like that, hanging upside-down from a tree, running across a soccer pitch, dressed up as Elsa at Comic Con. Her suspicion was right; Maddie is blonde. Was.

She checks the date on her last ‘normal’ looking post and finds it was a little over two months. Maddie sitting cross-legged on her trampoline, two of her little school friends on either side. There was a tumour inside her at that moment and no-one even knew. She looks happy, carelessly happy. Blissful, even.

It’s not that she looks like two different people. That was kind of her expectation, but it’s not true. She still looks like herself, and it’s precisely the similarity between them that freaks her out. It’s the way the girl with a long blonde ponytail chasing a soccer ball and the frail little thing who sits on the end her hospital bed are the same person.

Maxie jumps on her lap just as her hand reaches for her own hair. While her dad scolds him and tells him to get off her, she shakes her head, insisting that it’s fine. When she kisses his fluffy little head, it’s a thank you. He licks her face and she takes it as a ‘you’re welcome’.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Her mom places a grilled cheese on the table next to her and pats her head before heading over to the couch. “Do you need anything else? I can get you a drink if you-”

“I’m fine.” She nods at the end of the couch, where her backpack sits. “There’s water in my bag anyway.” Her mom nods in understanding and settles next to her dad.

“Which team do we want to win?”

“The college students,” Janis answers, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Of all the tastes she misses, her mom’s grilled cheese is up there. At least the chilli flakes she put on it gives it something. “They deserve it.”

“That old bat certainly doesn’t,” her dad grumbles. “She’s been giving her daughter the stink eye since round one.”

“Oh she looks like she would,” her mom jokes. “Hey Jan, did you tell your dad about the Make A Wish people?”

“The Make A Wish people?” her dad echoes, looking over at her. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Well, now you know,” she says casually, tearing her crusts off. Both her parents look to her expectantly, her dad no doubt excited about this. She’d be lying if she weren’t excited herself though. “It’s sort of what it says on the tin. I make a wish and the good people of the Make A Wish Foundation let it come true. Within reason, obviously. I don’t think they can give me a unicorn.”

“They could strap a horn to a little pony’s head,” her dad suggests.

“That’s animal abuse!” she says. “You know how I feel about the animals.”

“But have you thought about what you want?” her mom interrupts. “I mean, there’s no pressure, but any ideas?”

Janis purses her lips and pushes herself into a semi-normal sitting position. She has, although she wouldn’t call it ‘thinking about it’. More like ‘the first thing that came into her head’. But in her defence, it’s a really good one.

“There is one thing,” she says. “One place I’ve sort of always wanted to go but I never thought about asking for it because I knew it would be way too expensive.” Her mouth turns up into a smile before she can stop herself. Her parents eyes are wide as anticipation builds, both their attentions held tightly in her hand. Her next words are less spoken, more of a squeak. “The Kröller-Müller Museum. In the Netherlands.”

“The where now?” her dad asks.

“The Kröller-Müller Museum!” Janis replies, throwing the blanket off her. Just saying it out loud flipped a switch in her and now she’s bouncing on the couch, words tumbling out of her mouth. “It has one of the best collections of Van Gogh paintings! And basically anyone who was anyone in modern art!”

“Oh, there’s the obsession with Van Gogh,” her mom says. “Thought you left that behind in high school.”

“You thought wrong,” Janis tells her. “He’s my man. And also the Netherlands is meant to be like, really beautiful and I really want to go there. But also this art gallery! This art gallery let me tell you about it! It has a whole garden full of sculptures! And it’s not just European art-”

“Okay, Janis,” her mom chuckles. It’s then that Janis realises she actually stood up in her excitement, her phone at the ready, probably to show them everything and explain why exactly they should say yes to this. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we can do.”

“It is?”

“Of course,” her dad says. “It’s your wish. Also I’d love to see the Netherlands. We could make a whole vacation out of it without paying for anything ourselves.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, bouncing up and down on the spot. Any and all dizziness she gets from this will be well worth it. “Oh, could I potentially bring Cady and Damian along with me?”

“If the good people at Make A Wish don’t have an issue with it,” her mom says. “Which I don’t think they will.”

“Oh my god yes!” She punches the air before breaking out into a little happy dance, her feet shuffling on the floor and her arms pumping. “I have to go tell Cady about this. Oh my god!”

Her mom barely has time to ask if she wants help before she picks up her bag and runs upstairs, grilled cheese in her hand. She feels as though this smile is permanently plastered on her face as she imagines her showing Cady around the gallery, telling her all about her favourite pieces, the two of them walking through the sculpture garden.

It’s almost enough to make her forget that this is just a cancer treat.

The five seconds it takes Cady to pick up the phone are torturous, her feet banging against her bed as she waits.

“Hey,” Cady greets, looking adorable with her hair falling around her shoulders and a white sweater engulfing her body. “Someone’s happy. You in your room?”

“Yep,” she answers. “My actual room, not my other room.”

“That’s not confusing,” Cady chuckles. “Wait a second.” She picks up the phone and sits against her wall, balancing her phone on her knees. “Okay, is this angle good?”

“All angles with you are good,” she says, turning onto her stomach so her feet and swing in the air. “Okay, so guess what?”

“Um… what?” she replies.

“You have to guess.”

“Okay, fine,” she says. “Um, they let Maxie come into the hospital with you.”

“Ugh, I wish,” she sighs. “But no. Keep guessing.”

“You… found out whether or not the hot medical student is gay so you can set him up with Damian?”

“Sadly, that’s still a question mark. Come on, one more guess.”

“I hate guessing, just tell me,” she says. “You look like you’re bursting to anyway.”

“You’re right, I am” she says. “So… what would you say to an all-expenses paid trip to Europe?”

“I’d say you’re kidding, right?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” she says proudly. “The Make A Wish Foundation.” Those words make Cady’s mouth fall open in a perfect, precious ‘o’ shape. “Oh yeah baby, they can give us a fancy little European vacation to the Netherlands.”

“Oh my gosh!” Cady says, laughter lining her voice. “Where, when, how, why?”

“The how is Make A Wish,” Janis explains. “The where is the Kröller-Müller Museum in Gelderland.” She definitely didn’t pronounce that properly. “The why is that it’s been my dream vacation since I could form coherent thoughts. And I want my best people with me when I go see it.” Maybe it’s a trick of the camera light, but Janis is sure she can see Cady’s cheeks turn pink.

“You sappy munch,” she tells her.

“Can I take that as ‘you’re in’?” Janis asks.

“You can take it as a ‘frick yes, I’m in’,” she replies between giggles.

“Fabulous. I don’t exactly know when, but that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I finish in December so maybe we can go for Christmas.”

“Will you be okay to go?” Cady asks.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just… I was doing research about chemotherapy and cancer stuff,” Cady confesses. Her confession turns Janis’ heart to warm, soft mush.

“And why did you do that?” she asks softly.

“Oh… no reason.” They shrug and pull their sleeves over their hands, their face taking on the kind of softness they reserve just for Janis. “Just thought it might come in handy.” Janis blows a little kiss to the camera. Cady catches it, but quickly turns serious. “And it said that the aftermath tends to be pretty rough.”

“Caddy…” She rolls over onto her side, her cheeks turning a pale pink. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Of course I know that.”

“But you don’t need to worry about me,” she tells her. “Once this is all over, I’m going to be completely fine.” Her voice catches a little and she swallows past the lump in her throat. “And once I’m good, you and me can jet off to the Netherlands for our romantic getaway.” A lightbulb goes off in her head. “Oh, maybe I can get them to do it on our anniversary. I mean I’ll be completely fine by then, but it would still be romantic.”

“That sounds awesome,” Cady chuckles. “A little Fault In Our Stars, but awesome.”

“Oh my gosh,” Janis realises before bursting into cackling. “How did I not get that?”

“Because you didn’t read every John Green last year book to prep yourself for real people school,” Cady tells her. “I did.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Anyways, this is me back for the week if you want to come over and give me a week’s worth of Cady cuddles-” As she talks, she makes the mistake of running her hand through her hair. And behind her head, she feels something come off in her hand.

And just like that, a tidal wave crashes in and washes away everything else, all the comfort she’d received from Cady, all that excitement and giddiness. Gone.

“Janis?” Cady asks, a frown creasing her face. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah, fine,” she says quickly. “Uh… I’m actually going to sign off now. I’m pretty tired and I need to get some stuff sorted out. I’ll text you tomorrow okay?”

“Sure.” Cady twirls her necklace around her finger. “Um, feel better soon, okay?”

“Yeah. I will. I’ll see you later, Caddy.”

If Cady was going to say anything else, she doesn’t get the chance. Janis hangs up the call and shoves her phone under her pillow, just in case. She presses her hand to her chest, her heart beating wildly against it.

“Oh God.”

She pushes herself up, only to find more of her hair sitting on her bed. There has to be more than what came off in the hospital, she thinks as she pushes herself into a kneeling position. Twice as much.

How much is left?

She pushes herself off the bed and half-stumbles, half-runs to the mirror. Thankfully, she still looks normal at the front, but not at the back. There’s a patch at the back and if she can see it, anyone can. Anyone meaning her parents. It’s small enough for her to be able to cover it by pulling her hair into a ponytail, but that won’t last forever.

She sinks down on the bed, her nails digging into the covers and her head spinning. She can’t stop this and she won’t be able to hide it for that much longer either. This is her new reality.

As insane as it sounds, she feels like she’s losing a part of herself. Not even in the way most people like her probably think. Her hair is a symbol of the battle she fought with Regina. The half-blonde shows that Regina didn’t win. That she did, that she came out of it as herself, not as a clone of Regina. She can still remember standing in her bathroom cutting most of her hair off. Still remember the thrill she felt when the first hints of black started making their appearance. To lose this feels like she’s losing that victory.

She lays down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, tears burning in her eyes until tiredness creeps in and she finally falls asleep.

                                                                                               ******

Her parents pick up on her mood, even if they don’t know what it’s about, which is the very last thing she wants. She should be trying harder, but she doesn’t have much energy to play pretend. She loves her parents, but right now she wishes they would be assholes and not care about her.

“You feeling okay, Jan?” her mom asks as she comes up behind her.

“Just tired,” she mumbles. Maxie whimpers and rubs his head against her leg, demanding pets. She obliges, partly to make herself feel better. If her dog can’t fix her mood, this truly is the end of her. Her mom nods, not moving from where she stands and watching Janis pretend watch daytime TV.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want something?”

It was a low blow, Janis knew that the second she said it, sort of even before it, and her mom’s wounded face is the price she pays for it. For a split second, Janis thinks (slash hopes) that she’ll tell her off about her attitude, instead she just shrugs.

“No. Just making coffee, you want some?”

“I’m okay.” She pauses for a moment and looks up just as her mom is heading away. “Thanks, though.”

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about telling her parents. Logically, she knows that that’s the best thing she could do. They’re going to find out sooner or later and it’s better that they hear it from her than her just coming downstairs in a few days completely bald. Save their feelings, show them she cares and all that. She knows all that and she’s still keeping it from them. Pride, fear and stupidity is a lethal cocktail and she’s downed at least three since yesterday.

She guesses she dozed off because she blinks and it’s a completely new show. According to her phone, it’s half an hour later. The TV was put on mute at some point and her phone placed on the coffee table. She stretches her limbs out on the couch, her stomach growling, and she guesses it’s time to head to the kitchen and eat her first meal of the day.

“Oh, morning,” her dad teases. She throws him a peace sign and heads over to the cupboard.

“Do we have peanut butter left?” she asks. “I want a PG&J.”

“I got a new one, it’s in the front,” her mom says. “The jelly’s in there too.” She has to stretch to get it, even with her being taller than average. She almost doesn’t notice her mom approaching until it’s too late and all she can do is hope she tied her hair back enough to hide her little patch well enough. “Sweetie why don’t you let me do that?”

“Mom, I’m nearly 18,” she reminds her. She snorts, although it feels empty and more sarcastic than earnest. “I can do this myself.”

“I know,” she says gently. “I just don’t want you to… I’m making something for myself anyway, you just woke up.”

Janis in a deep breath. It’s well intentioned, of course, but it pisses her off.

“It’s okay Mom,” she says. “I’ve got this.” She screws open the peanut butter and spreads more than enough on one slice, just to make her point. Her grip on the knife turns her knuckles white.

“Really, sweetheart.” Her mom puts her hand on her shoulder and even though her touch is as gentle as can be, Janis bites back a scream. “You go sit down; I don’t want you stressing yourself.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake mom!” The knife clatters to the counter and she whips around to face her mother. “I’m not an invalid, I’m not a child, and I can make my own freaking sandwich!”

Her mom looks like she shot her. She may as well have. She backs away from Janis, her mouth opening and closing noiselessly, her eyes torn between anger and concern. When she looks to her dad for help, there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m sorry,” Janis says after what feels like forever. She wraps her arms around herself, her eyes meeting her mom’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Her tone implies it’s anything but. “It’s all right.”

Janis only shakes her head, her throat too tight to say anything. Her mom takes a careful step towards her, then another. She’s never been handled with this much care before. Not even in the aftermath of Regina, when she was at her lowest, did she feel this breakable.

“You make your sandwich, kid,” her mom says quietly, her hand on her shoulder. Janis flinches away from her touch, mindful of her hair. Her mom takes the hint and she watches as disappointment flickers across her face.

“Sorry,” she whispers again. Her voice is so quiet that it’s as though she didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t.

When she looks over at the sandwich on the counter, her once-empty stomach feels too full and a shiver runs down her back.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles.

She stumbles into her room and leans on the chair, not even having the energy to close the door fully. Her parents know to give her her space anyway. They’re good like that, always are, and look how she repaid them.

She doesn’t care about being an asshole in school, to the people who deserve it, but she crossed a line here. The worst part is that she can’t really apologise because her parents are giving her the special treatment. Regardless of whether or not she deserves it, she doesn’t want it.

She rakes her hand through her hair, the habit still in her body even if she should know better, and of course another clump of hair comes off in her hand. That’s the second time today, the first being what came off in her hairbrush this morning. She’s being pushed further away from normal with every minute.

She holds it in front of her and looks at it, looks at the black and blonde clump just sitting there. Lifeless. Dull. Curling at the edges and poking out from between her fingers.

And suddenly she’s not upset or self-pitying any more.

She’s pissed.

She’s pissed as hell.

She shoves the door closed and squeezes the hair in her hand. It’s this illness, and that freaking medicine that’s making her feel this way. Making her tired and angry all the time, why her parents are giving her free passes. Making her miss out on her senior year and now taking her hair away from her too. Taking every facet of her life until she’s left with dust, and all against her will. How dare it, she thinks. How dare this disease come in and wreck her life like this. Make her feel so helpless and fragile. Who gave it that right?

She squeezes the clump in her hand as hot tears roll her face and into her open mouth. Her breathing is ragged and uneven; she gasps and chokes on sobs, even more so when another clump falls out.

Then an idea starts to piece together in her mind. It sounds insane, until she realises she was going to have to do it sooner or later. And that it was recommended in one of the leaflets she was given near the beginning. It scares her, but at the same time, it gives her some sort of satisfaction. Like doing it lets her win in some way. She lets the idea of that satisfaction pull her down the hallway, one ear listening out for her parents, and slips into the bathroom. There she finds her dad’s electric razor sitting on a shelf and she slides it into her pocket.

She remembers when she was 12 and her dad found her in this bathroom after cutting most of her hair off. He hid his surprise well. He might not be able to do that this time.

She locks her bedroom door and closes the curtains as well. Victory or no, she wants this done in private. She positions her mirror on the desk, enough to get her entire head in.

She looks at herself for a long moment, razor in her hand. This is the last time she’ll look like this for a long, long time. Her cancer has been hidden from passing eyes until now. Now she’ll just have it written on her forehead in invisible ink. The sad, pitiful eyes and sympathetic sighs won’t just be from her parents or peers now, but from everyone who sees her.

But it’s either this or it falls out on its own. Her fate it, quite literally, in her own hands.

So she takes a deep breath, turns the razor on, and runs it through the middle of her head.

It’s not as easy as people make it look. And by people, she means people on TV and in movies. The razor gets stuck on more than one occasion and it takes two or three tries on some places to get it fully off. Not to mention her hair getting caught in her bra or falling down the front of her shirt. But she powers through it and keeps going until there’s nothing left of it.

There’s nothing left.

Her first thought is that as far as impulse decisions go; this one takes the cake.

Her second thought is “oh my fucking god I’m bald!”. She’s well and truly bald. The realisation slams into her and she stumbles forwards, barely managing to grab the chair to steady herself. She can’t even decide if she regrets it not, if that one victory she claimed in doing it herself was worth it, because all she is thinking is “I am fucking bald”. She doesn’t look like herself. She looks like a kid. Or a cancer patient.

Her next conversation with her friends will be all about this. And she’s almost certain she can’t handle that.

Unless….

Her second crazy idea of the day springs to mind. Granted, it’s not as drastic as shaving her whole head, but it’s still a jump. A big one. But it’ll give her back something she’s been missing for a while, power. Power to tell her own story, to make people look and see her, not cancer.

She opens her phone and gets up her camera, snapping selfies like it’s any other day. One with a peace sign up, one with her tongue sticking out, one laying in her bed, one in front of the mirror. She lines them all up on Instagram and opens the caption.

‘Hello friends. Tis I, Janis Sarkisian. Yes, I got a haircut. A bit more than a haircut. You all probably know by now that I have cancer. And you probably understand that people with cancer lose their hair. Yep, that’s what happened here folks. Please feel free to look at these pictures as long as you like in order to get used to it. I mean it. It’ll save all the awkward staring irl. I’ll do the same.’

Her thumbs dance over the keypad as she bites down on her lip, choosing words with just as much care as she would in her college essay. Maybe more.

‘I’m still me. Just without hair. See you guys when I see you. Please restrict your comments to only talking about how good looking I am and how my girlfriend is lucky to have me. Thank you for your time.’

She hits ‘post’ immediately, only to immediately regret it once she does. She drops down to the floor and holds her phone to her chest, back against the wall, left with no option but to wait for the next event to happen.

[ambivalent-auguries]

✩ for old gays or apocalypse twinks

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Adrian would never, but neither Kazuma but maybe Kazuma lol Who threatens to leave but never actually does? They are above that lol But Adrian would be the one to take a time out, I feel Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Adrian has a tendency to bury his head in the sand, but he’s getting better at that Who trashes the house? Kazuma, but not during a fight, just while trying to cook lol Do either of them get physical? Nah Adrian is a giant teddy bear and Kazuma is would never use his powers for evil  How often do they argue/disagree? Rarely, I feel  Who is the first to apologise? Both, they take it on the chin if they’re in the wrong and move on like adults

Sex:

Who is on top? Mostly Adrian Who is on the bottom? Mostly Kazuma Who has the strangest desires? Probably Kazuma lol Any kinks? Marriage lol Who’s dominant in bed? They both are, Kazuma is a power bottom let’s not kid ourselves lol Is head ever in the equation? Yeah, Adrian has a worship kink lol If so, who is better at performing it? Kazuma tbh lol Ever had sex in public? Does leaving the curtains open count?? Who moans the most? Kazuma lol Adrian mostly GRUNTS Who leaves the most marks? Adrian, unintentionally lol Who screams the loudest? Uh neither? Lol they not that wild lol  Who is the more experienced of the two? I’d say they are kinda at the same level?? Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? MAKE LOVE (fuck at first tho ngl lol) Rough or soft? Soft, usually  How long do they usually last? LOOOOL The first time they do it?? 3 mins tops, they get better after that lol Is protection used? When it’s available lol Does it ever get boring? Adrian is boring lol  Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Uh back patio lol Keeping close to home tho lol

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? YES AND GRANDCHILDREN ALL THE KIDS  If so, how many children do your muses want/have? They each have one and they’re both looking forward to grandkids lol Who is the favorite parent? Kazuma, always lol Kyo adores him and Jess is happy her dad found a prince to marry lol Who is the authoritative parent? Kazuma does more of the disciplining, because Adrian is a weak man with his kids lol Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? ADRIAN lol Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Kazuma because Adrian would cook instead lol Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both, what do you mean?? They are both supportive parents lol Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Both, they play good cop, bad cop lol  Who changes the diapers? Both Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Both, but Adrian would do it more because he loves his husband lol Who spends the most time with the children? Kazuma because of his job and Adrian is a busy detective, but Adrian would make sure to get in quality time in with the kids Who packs their lunch boxes? Adrian lol Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Kazuma Who cleans up after the kids? Both, they work as a team lol Who worries the most? Adrian, I feel lol Because he knows how fucked up the world is  Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Kazuma because he has words and nobody wants the kid’s first word to be ‘yeehaw’ lol

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both, but Adrian seeks it more  Who is the little spoon? Does it matter?? But Adrian gives all encompassing hugs and Kazuma likes that Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Kazuma lol Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  ADRIAN lol Especially when buzzed lol How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? What is uncomfortable?? Who gives the most kisses? Adrian, thirsty bitch lol What is their favourite non-sexual activity? I think reading together or spending time with their kids Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The couch, watching TV after a long day of wrangling kids lol Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Kazuma lol He will cup a handful of man boob any time lol How often do they get time to themselves? Not that often because the kids are around lol

Sleeping:

Who snores? Neither, but Adrian has nightmares oop If both do, who snores the loudest? N/A Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share a bed ofc If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Adrian’s arm falls asleep every night because he insists on holding Kazuma close to him lol Who talks in their sleep? Adrian :( What do they wear to bed? I wouldn’t be surprised if Kazuma wore a fucking kimono to bed lol But Adrian wears joggers and a t-shirt  Are either of your muses insomniacs? Nah, but Adrian and sleep don’t always get along Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Sometimes, for Adrian  Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Depends, but I feel more often than not they don’t completely suffocate each other lol Who wakes up with bed hair? Kazuma lol  Who wakes up first? Adrian? Both? They are both early risers  Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Adrian, we don’t let Kazuma near the kitchen  What is their favourite sleeping position? Adrian on his back, Kazuma resting his head on his shoulder/chest, Adrian having an arm around Kazuma, maybe they even hold hands, who knows lol Who hogs the sheets? Adrian unintentionally cause he’s a big guy lol Do they set an alarm each night? They don’t really need to lol They’ve gotten to the point in their lives where their body mysteriously wakes them up when they’ve had enough sleep - you know, adulthood lol Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nah neither are that big into TV watching - Kazuma probably reads before bed, where Adrian looks over work cases. They have a TV mostly for the news and cartoons for Jess  Who has nightmares? Adrian  Who has ridiculous dreams? Kazuma lol I can see having an active imagination lol Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Kazuma lol But he can’t take that much because Adrian is just big by default and occupies a lot of space lol Who makes the bed? Kazuma, I feel  What time is bed time? They old men, probably 10pm is their bed time, after they’ve put Jess down and checked in on Kyo lol Any routines/rituals before bed? Praying and checking the doors are locked for Adrian, Kazuma checks things are good for the next day and makes sure to tell the kids goodnight Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Adrian, he needs a coffee before he can function lol

Work:

Who is the busiest? Adrian, but they both lead busy lives Who rakes in the highest income? Kazuma probably charges some fat fee for the honour of being taught at his dojo lol Are any of your muses unemployed? Nah, they are stable adults Who takes the most sick days? Neither, they push through lol Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither, I feel they are both stupidly early lol Who sucks up to their boss? Neither and Kazuma is his own boss lol What are their jobs? Kazuma is a martial arts teacher and Adrian is the captain of the homicide department uwu  Who stresses the most? Adrian, his job is stressful and at times dangerous Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Hell yeah  Are your muses financially stable? Yeah

Home:

Who does the washing? Adrian  Who takes out the trash? Kazuma during the day, Adrian at night Who does the ironing? Kazuma while flicking through a novel lol Who does the cooking? Adrian Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? KAZUMA  Who is messier? Adrian lol Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Adrian lol Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Adrian  Who forgets to flush the toilet? Adrian is not THAT messy lol Who is the prankster around the house? Kazuma teases lol Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Kazuma  Who mows the lawn? Adrian and Kazuma enjoys watching it from the shade lol Who answers the telephone? Adrian mostly  Who does the vacuuming? Adrian, he’s used to getting glitter out of the carpet lol Who does the groceries? Both uwu  Who takes the longest to shower? They’re both pretty quick  Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Uhh neither? 

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Nah How many cars do they own? Adrian owns one Do they own their home or do they rent? They own Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Suburbs basically, good neighbourhood for their kids Do they live in the city or in the country? Outskirts of city Do they enjoy their surroundings? They do What’s their song? In my mind, THIS What do they do when they’re away from each other? Work lol Where did they first meet? Kazuma’s dojo How did they first meet?  Well, let me tell you a tale of Adrian taking some classes to improve his reflexes and get some exercise in and ya know, Kazuma was the cute teacher that my cowboy was entirely too shy to approach lol Or something like that lol Who spends the most money when out shopping? Kazuma, Adrian has a poor person mentality lol Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither ew They show off their kids lol Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Kazuma loool Adrian just gets worried lol Any mental issues? Adrian has PTSD and has struggled with depression Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither  Who kills the spiders around the house? Neither, they catch the spider and let it out of the house Their favourite place? Either home with the kids or the amusement park with the kids lol Who pays the bills? They both chip in Do they have any fears for their future? NO GRANDCHILDREN lol Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Adrian uwu Who uses up all of the hot water? Adrian lol he likes his showers hot  Who’s the tallest? Adrian  Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Adrian lol Who wanders around in their underwear? Adrian and Kazuma just enjoys it lol Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Adrian lol What do they tease each other about? Adrian teases Kazuma about the dirty novels, Kazuma teases Adrian about his stern face and the princess outfit lol Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither, they are fucking oblivious lol Do they have mutual friends? Their kids uwu lol Who crushed first? Adrian, let’s be real lol Any alcohol or substance related problems? Adrian struggled a bit but he’s good Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Adrian after a night out with his team lol Who swears the most? Adrian, but doesn’t make a habit out of it 

[devil-kindred]

OTP Questions Meme

Tagged by @chyrstis! Tagging: @nightwingshero @tommymillers @softmillers @tomexraider @vvitchofhemwick and anyone else who’d like to do this! (If you’ve already been tagged or don’t want to fill it out, no pressure!)

I could do this for any number of ships BUT since I need to get myself in gear to finish the right moment, why not fill it out for Sam and Evie? I might do another round of this with a twist for disconnect//reconnect, later.

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Sam. They rarely argue but when they do, Sam is usually the louder one. Usually.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither. 

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Neither!

Who trashes the house? They try to keep their place pretty neat, but Evie’s office always looks like a tornado went through it when she’s in the midst of a project.

Do either of them get physical? Absolutely not. Evie’s way of dealing with an argument that’s too heated is to shut herself away for a bit and take time to calm down. Sam prefers to talk it out immediately, however, so he’s always right on the other side of the door, ready to sort things out as soon as she emerges.

How often do they argue/disagree? Depends on the verse. In their canon, where they meet after the adventure with Nate, they argue very rarely. In the verse where she was in a relationship with Sam leading up to his days in Panama... well, that’s a slightly different story.

Who is the first to apologize? Both of them. It’s honestly a toss-up on who beats the other to it.

SEX

Who is on top? Sam usually takes the lead, but on occasion Evie’s more than willing to have a go.

Who is on the bottom? See above!

Who has the strangest desires? I think they’re fairly tame in their bedroom tastes. Nothing out there, really.

Any kinks? None really come to mind, except Sam preferring Evie to be very vocal. The louder the better except for that time they visited Nate and Elena at the beach house.

Who’s dominant in bed? They switch, but it’s usually Sam.

Is head ever in the equation? Sure is!

If so, who is better at performing it? Let’s just say Sam is a man of many, many talents.

Ever had sex in public? They once snuck off at one of Evie’s showcases and were one velvet curtain away from being caught in the act.

Who moans the most? Evie, and Sam’s damn proud he’s the cause.

Who leaves the most marks? Evie. Nails.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Sam has a lot of experience and it shows.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Both. If they’re in a hurry, fucking. If they’re both home with nowhere pressing to be, make love.

Rough or soft? Both.

How long do they usually last? About average time, unless they’re purposely dragging it out.

Is protection used? Evie’s not on birth control, but Sam uses condoms and that works fairly well for them.

Does it ever get boring? Not really. They’re always surprising one another somehow so they’re pretty spontaneous.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? They may or may not have uh... taken advantage of some alone time during a visit and gotten a little too frisky in the guest house laundry room. Cassie may have nearly caught them in the act because Nate sent her to find them, but they don’t talk about that.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? They have at least one child in their canon, a daughter named Elaine⏤ after Evie’s mother.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They want at least one, but will probably end up with three.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both, but Evie more so than Sam.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Sam. He’s a notorious flirt.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves? Again, Sam.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? If they’re snuggled up to each other, an eternity. If they’re laying in an odd way, then probably about an hour.

Who gives the most kisses? Evie! She always steals a kiss whenever she can.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Cuddling or just doing things together.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Their bed, but the couch is nice too.

How often do they get time to themselves? If Evie’s between shoots, often. 

SLEEPING

Who snores? Sam.

If both do, who snores the loudest? See above!

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share and rarely ever sleep apart if they’re both home. They have a tendency to follow one another if one of them can’t sleep.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Oh they absolutely cozy up to each other. Even if they start off apart, they’ll always wake up tangled up in each other.

What do they wear to bed? For Evie, usually a big t-shirt and undies. Unless she’s trying to surprise Sam in which case it’s either a) very fancy lingerie or b) nothing at all. Sam usually wears boxers and occasionally a shirt.

Are either of them insomniacs? Nope!

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No, though they would take them if necessary.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Sam always winds up with an arm around Evie somehow or his hand on her hip.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Evie’s hair is a lot longer than Sam’s so while they technically both get bed hair, Evie’s is always worse.

Who wakes up first? Just depends on the day, really.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Sam usually makes breakfast for Evie. She made breakfast for him once and they wound up with a very big mess and a lot of laundry.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Either Sam on his back with Evie tucked up against his side with her head on his chest or both of them on their sides with Evie as the little spoon.

Do they set an alarm each night? The rule is no alarm unless they have somewhere they have to be super early.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yes, there’s one across from the bed.

Who has nightmares?  Sam. The events of Libertalia still haunt him and he has the occasional nightmare about the time he, Chloe, and Nadine where left for dead in a flooding building.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Evie, but only when she’s pregnant.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Sam.

Who makes the bed? Both of them, but the rule is whoever gets up last makes the bed.

What time is bed time? Honestly, whenever they fall into bed.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Evie always brushes her hair out before bed and answers work email.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Neither.

WORK

Who is the busiest? It depends. If Evie’s got multiple locations to go to in one day then she is. When Sam’s still in the treasure hunting business, he’s about as busy as she is.

Who rakes in the highest income? It’s a toss up.

Are any of them unemployed? Once Sam retires from the treasure hunting business, he is.

Who takes the most sick days? Neither.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Sam.

Who sucks up to their boss? Neither.

What are their jobs? Evie is a photographer, Sam is a treasure hunter.

Who stresses the most? Both.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Both enjoy their respective jobs, though Sam could do without being shot at when someone else wants the treasure.

Are they financially stable? Yup!

HOME

Who does the washing? Depends on who’s home.

Who takes out the trash? See above!

Who does the ironing? Sam.

Who does the cooking? Both of them, but usually Sam.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? ... Evie.

Who is messier? Evie’s office is a disaster so definitely her.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Depends on who was home last.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Evie.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither.

Who is the prankster around the house? Sam.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Evie. She’s not sure how she loses them when she leaves them in the same place all the time but somehow she does.

Who mows the lawn? Neither as they don’t have a lawn to mow.

Who answers the telephone? Both.

Who does the vacuuming? Evie.

Who does the groceries? Both.

Who takes the longest to shower? Evie, but only because someone (Sam) has a tendency to join her and then things ensue and they have to shower all over again.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? Nope!

How many cars do they own? Two cars plus a motorcycle.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They rent an apartment in New Orleans.

Do they live in the city or in the country? In the city.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? More or less, though Sam sometimes wishes he lived closer to his family.

What’s their song? World In My Eyes - Depeche Mode. It’s where I got their ship name from.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Work and think about their other half.

Where did they first meet? Sam recruited Evie to do some surveillance under the guise of just wanting some shots of a temple. In true fashion, things quickly escalated.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Sam, he likes to spoil Evie whenever he can.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over themselves? Sam, though he always makes sure she’s ok.

Any mental issues? Nope.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Evie hates spiders with a passion.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Sam, though Evie will fling shoes from a safe distance.

Their favourite place? Their apartment, or wherever the other is.

Who pays the bills? Both.

Do they have any fears for their future? Until Sam quits the treasure hunting business, Evie’s worried he won’t come back one day from a job and that Sully will bring her the letter she’s been warned about. Sam worries that Evie will get tired of him and leave.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Sam.

Who’s the tallest? Evie’s only a little over five foot so Sam has the height advantage.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Sam.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Both.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Evie for sure.

What do they tease each other about? Naughty things, and it’s usually Sam.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither.

Who crushed first? It was mutual, but Evie’ll admit it sooner than he will.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nope!

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Sam, usually after Nate’s visited, and always going on about how much he loves his girlfriend/wife (depending on where you are in their canon).

Who swears the most? Evie. Sam thinks it’s hilarious.

[artificialqueens]

les fleurs de l'enfer (Branjie) - PinkGrapefruit

A/N - yes i swear im working on some non-branjie, fight me. anyway, this is hanahaki, the lowercase and the pronouns are a style choice, @freykitten is an awesome beta, @aftificialqtip is a babe and also gets title credits (as promised) and as usual, all characters are my own interpretation. Hit me up if you enjoy it and please send me prompts if you want some more non-branjie xx

*

when he first lays eyes on her, he knows he is doomed. it is like a fairytale, some sort of witchcraft as he feels his heart fall out of his chest and onto the floor, he tells himself the pounding is a symptom of excitement, it is not a symptom of her.

he goes over to say hello, greets each queen with a canadian smile and soft hugs. nina is the loudest and as he hugs her, warmer and harder than the rest, he asks why the room smells of roses. the look she returns is full of the deepest kind of pity, cruel to both the recipient and the purveyor. her eyes turn wet and she grips on harder, pulling him deeper into her. when she lets go, she gives him a wet smile. he hopes the rest of the competition hasn’t noticed. he does not understand her reaction.

*

he watches her undress with a sense of longing that is too new to fathom. her hair remains perfect despite the heavy wig that was stacked on top and through the glitter, layered thick over her small frame, he swears he can see a different kind of sparkle. he looks away before she can catch him staring, he does not need the world to try to understand what he himself cannot. he does not wish to share this yet. brooke fails to notice that she is watching him too.

*

his mouth tastes like sap and cigarettes. he smoked every day, trying to remove the bitter taste from his mouth but to no avail. it would always return, as reliable as morning breath and morning wood. similarly, the smell of roses clung to him, no matter how many showers he took. when he asked nina about it, four days into the competition, she told him he smelled like cedarwood and walked away.

*

he’s de-dragging after the second runway when it happens. one second he’s wiping off his eyeliner, the next his throat is raw and eyes watering frantically. when he finally opens them there is blood in the sink and a single, perfectly formed rose petal. it stares at him as he looks on in confusion. there is no explanation that he can think of, doesn’t understand why it is there or how it ended up scratching in his throat. tears threaten to fall but they don’t. later, in bed, he will struggle to remember if the petal was red, or if that was his blood.

*

its nina who he tells. he’s convinced himself that he’s insane, its the competition getting to him. that he just swallowed one of vanessa’s petals when he hugged her in that goddamn libra costume. as he thinks about her the taste gets stronger. he doesn’t notice the correlation.

nina looks at him like you would look at a child who broke their arm. her voice is soft and kind and yet the words are like punches. they are well placed in his soft flesh and suddenly his fingers are deep into his own arms, scratching till he reaches blood.

she speaks of a flower disease. hanahaki or something like that. she talks about unrequited love and time limits and then, as sweetly as she began, she asks if he knows who it is. he cannot blink back the tears that threaten to fall, just lets them pour out of him like a lifeforce, draining. he tells her that they were roses, goddamn flaming red roses. she just holds him, she understands.

*

he asks again, it’s the end of the first day of episode three and he’s collected his mind up. he’s locked away the flowers like a hoarder would with their possessions, placed them in a box marked ‘do not open’. he hopes that he will not get any more, lest he needs a bigger one.

she tells him it passes through generations, skips some, maybe a few. says she has it too but she has not met her love. he feels like he should pray for her, he is far from religious but also knows that the taste of sap is unpleasant. he loves her enough to want to spare her from the pain. she talks about how she is worried by every new face, glad when the people she meets smell like earth and fires and grapefruit, and how she once kissed a man that smelt like honeysuckle.

he asks if he will die. she only says she hopes not.

*

they kiss in the workroom, it is a greeting but to brooke it feels almost like a goodbye. they smile across the room and he drinks in every second, watering the rose garden that is growing in his lungs, prays that the thorns do not puncture him before pruning season. nina said he would have years, the flowers seem to disagree.

*

they kiss in untucked as he tries frantically to calm her down. with every panicked inhale she takes, he mirrors her and he feels petals dislodge. he has to run to the bathroom at call time, coughs up a petal into the toilet and sends thanks to the lords above that his lipstick is red. nina gives him a look as he returns, barely in time. he smiles, fragile and flimsy and it tastes like blood.

*

from then on they act like a couple, hugs and tactile gestures thrown around like confetti. it feels like he’s walking on a cloud but they do not talk about it. they use words like ‘crush’ and ‘good friends’ and it feels oh so middle school as he explains his feelings to nina. she points out that he didn’t need to do that at all, he’s still coughing up petals and he tells her that he just wants to feel normal, begs that she allows him that. they don’t talk about it again.

*

the petal amnesty lasts until vanessa’s third lipsync. he is watching from the back, cheering her on like the supportive kinda-boyfriend he is when he feels something climbing his throat. nina swears that he turned blue as he tried to suppress the gnawing urge to choke up whatever was caught. he scarcely makes it off the stage before he’s vomiting up his own blood, warm and heavy into the sink of the disabled bathroom. nina runs in after him, keeps the wig off his face as he surrenders his lungs to the white tiles. she counts three petals til he hastily turns on the tap, notes the deep red colour even as they are washed of the blood. he picks them out of the filter and wraps them in toilet paper, squeaks out a ‘coming’ when production knocks on the door. the paper goes in the bin and she wipes a droplet of blood off his chin before they head back out. vanessa smiles at him, happy and loving and when she kisses him he prays she cannot taste the blood. if she can, she makes no mention of it.

they celebrate the top five with sex, hot and needy and when they are done he drops sweet kisses on her head, relishes in the way the room doesn’t smell of roses. he wakes up the next morning to the taste of sap on his tongue, knows that it is not over yet.

*

the night he sends her home, he watches as her eyes turn dark. as she promises him something, he tunes out, feels vines scratching at his diaphragm, whole orchards in his lungs. she is angry, and she is hurt and none of it is directed towards him but all of it is. he spends the following nights crying into one of her hoodies, sprays so much cologne on it he can almost forget that it smells like roses. like his whole goddamn world smells like a rose garden on a summers day. he can’t understand how it hurts him so much.

*

as he packs up his things, safely in the top four, he finally opens up her note. he cries as he reads it, watches the ink smudge under the weight of his tears. he picks up the pointe shoes he wore that night, notes the spots of blood on the toes and vows to get them cleaned. pointe shoes are expensive he justifies, like he can’t buy more. he doesn’t think about where the blood is from, just needs to rid himself of the evidence.

*

he coughs up a petal on the plane home, disguises it as travel sickness before burying his nose back into the worn copy of “adventures of tess of d’urbervilles”, tries to forget his own life for a second.

*

he calls his momma. when he tells her about the petals she relays folk story after folk story, family member after family member. he questions at length why she had never warned him and her answer hurts more than the roses. “i didn’t think you’d need warning” she tells him and he can hear her sorrows through the crinkly connection. he cries that night, heavy sobs wracking his body as he remembers every moment with her in his mind. a cinema of memories playing in imax and he’s the only person in the audience to watch. he remembers his mouth grasping at his straw as he watched her fight with such ferocity he promised himself to never get on the wrong side of her.

*

he checks his phone religiously, coughs up petals every few days. calls nina like she’s his mother and his mother like she’s an old friend, long forgotten. he almost forgets about her for a few months, although he smells roses as if they were planted all over tennesee.

then he gets an email. it tells them, in a group email, to play up their relationship when the show starts airing. he finds it patronising and embarrassing to be told in such a public manner, feels like it undermines what they had. if he had any guts at all he would call vanessa, tell her she means the world to him and he needs her to come back. he’d tell her about the rose garden in his chest. how it’s always in full bloom and he can’t breathe without thinking about her. how when his breath hitches, it’s the thorns scratching lines into his lungs,  scars that will always remind him of her. of them.

if he was an asshole, he might even tell her that this has a time limit. that it could run out if he’s not careful and that every mouthful of sap brings him nearer to his deathbed. but he is not cruel enough to be kind to himself, just kind enough to give her freedom from the flowers in his heart and his lungs and his mind.

*

one night, when he’s lonely and a week away from the cast reveal, he finally googles roses. he reads about the colour types and how to grow them. tips for first-time gardeners and how to prune them for maximum growth. he reads that red roses mean true love but wonders why his have so many thorns.

*

he sees her across the room on press day, dressed not in red, but pink. he reapplies his lipstick, he switched to red after he started choking up the petals so regularly it ruined the perfect nude he used to apply. they do not talk, sit on opposite sides of the room for no one’s benefit but their own, although, by the end of the day, he begins to doubt even that.

nina follows him around like a puppy, he jokes that she’s his emotional support animal and between interviews, she tells him she found a man that smells like sweetpeas and how grateful she is that he can smell it too. how they both cough up petal but are learning to love each other. he is so jealous and it hurts him to think about how he could have a chance at love one day.

they make eye contact across a crowded room and then the vines constrict and he throws up a whole rosebud into a trash can. he assumes the new yorkers walking past must have seen weirder things. he hopes so because he is a man in a wig throwing up flowers and attention is the last thing he needs right now.

*

watching himself fall in love on tv breaks his heart a little more. he wakes up to blood on his pillows and rose petals between his teeth. when the blood hits his bathroom tiles he thinks it looks like drag jewels, cheap and hard but beautiful. he thinks he looks like drag jewels these days.

he does viewing parties, always takes cigarette breaks in between numbers and show clips. the only lipstick he wears is a deep red that doesn’t move in the face of stomach acid and crushed dreams. people ask about them, they call it a showmance and laugh it off. they flirt on twitter like they have been told but it feels too real to brooke. he hands his account over to his best friend and tells him to be nice, he hopes vanessa doesn’t notice.

it’s slipped his mind when they started to text again but he knew as soon as it started that it wouldn’t stop. they talk constantly, like teens who cannot yet flirt but they are adults and they flirt well. conversation flows like a river between them, fuelled by tears and vodka and when they facetime for the first time he feels like a little bit of him has been returned.

*

vanessa asks him on a date. he is hesitant but he says yes. she offers up a seafood restaurant, fancy enough that neither would have afforded it pre-drag race but it is a new life that they are living, theirs to enjoy. she wears a suit jacket and he gapes at her all night, never noticing how she returns his looks. he cannot taste anything, the sap is too strong, but he assumes the food is good and moves on because he is there with her and that is all that matter to him.

*

they wake up to blood on his pillow, he cannot explain it but sees her face when she notices the roses scattered around her head like a halo. he calls nina, frantic and panicked and when she answers he gives cliff notes of the nights’ events. he pretends not to hear the man in the background who calls her babe in a voice soft like honey. he makes french toast as nina explains everything, the flowers and the death and all of the in-betweens and as she sips her coffee, thoughtfully, vanessa hums. she chimes in occasionally with little ‘okays’ and ‘shittts’ and when brooke has plated up breakfast, the look he receives is something between understanding and anger.

the toast is eaten in silence and then, when he has cleared their plates and made another round of coffee, she speaks. she asks him why he hid it and he replies in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to worry her, scare her, unnerve her in any way. and then he adds, he didn’t know if she’d believe him and her face damn near splits in two. now she is angry and she is shouting and he just holds her because he felt all of this, months ago in a hotel room all alone and just wishes someone had done the same thing for him.

she rubs his back as he coughs up the french toast, littered with blood-red rose petals, whispers love to him as he lays on the couch, in pain and lonely despite her company.

*

it is four in the morning when she kisses him.

*

they wake up to clean pillows and as he inhales, he smells sandalwood and apple cider. he has never been so happy for his morning breath and as vanessa rolls over, he kisses her with all of the burning passion he has felt for almost a year. he melts into her with the 11 months of yearning and takes a deep breath of her shampoo when she pulls away. for once his chest does not burn when his breathing hitches, his lungs do not have the telltale feeling of thorns and rose stems, he cannot taste the sap or blood or petals and as he smiles into her head, she snuggles against his lean frame.

*

he decides he needs another tattoo, he hasn’t smelt the roses in months and he can finally look at them without his windpipe closing up from fear. nina tells him it’s a terrible idea and upon reflection that may be a part of why he is doing it but really he just wants to remember what it felt like to be so in love that you couldn’t breathe.

vanessa loves it, kisses it softly every time she can, whether in drag shows or in bed. they say that roses brought them together and so what if no one quite knows what they’re talking about - they do.

*

their wedding is simple and not at all vanessa-like (although very jose) but when brooke faces her at the altar, both in black suits with white shirts, her red tie is the same shade as the rose in her lapel and he begins to cry. his own lapel bears a white rose and when they kiss, the two meet in unity.

*

they name their first daughter rosie, too committed to this game they are playing to slow down anytime soon. she looks like brooke, all blonde hair, lithe and long limbs. he promises her she will be a dancer, strong and beautiful, vanessa just promises her that she will be protected from all the monsters in the world because she is special. she has two dads and when brooke hears her say it for the first time, he can’t help but well up a little bit.

*

she is fifteen when he walks in on her sobbing in the bathroom. they have weathered every storm together and while vanessa will always be her fun dad, brooke is her shoulder to cry on. between breaths, she tells him about this girl who smells like violets and he holds her tight to his chest, lets the whole world melt away. he explains how he once met a man who smelled like roses, how it hurt him more than anything else but how now he gets to wake up to her father every morning and he remembers that roses are a blessing. he tells her that one day, violets will bring her joy and he wipes the blood off the tiles, washing white petals down the plughole, praying to each and every deity that he is right.

[estro-gem]

Black and White in Grey: Prologue

Author’s note: This is my first fanfiction and surprise, surprise, English isn’t my first language, so my grammar and spelling may not always be on point. It’s an ‘My Little Pony’ fanfiction - purely written for the fun of sharing creative ideas, so if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

This is probably a paring that is least likely to ever exist: Luna x Discord. My interpretation of the characters might be different from the original show and/or comics. I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS.

It’s going to be a long story with several chapters yet to come.

WARNING: INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE AND MATURE TOPICS.

Please enjoy!

PROLOGUE

“You have got to be kidding me…”

Luna stomped on Discord’s tale for the comment he so rudely made, earning a yelp, followed by an angry growl from the draconiquus. The princess held firm and took a moment to give the male a dirty look, before looking back to their surprised visitor.

This is not how Luna expected her night to play off… and by the looks of it, neither was it the case with Discord. To think, just a few moments ago, they were gasping for air, suppressing the howls and whimpers during each other’s brutal assaults to their bodies – the minimizing of sound is for the best... to leave the guards out of their business.

Hell, best to leave everypony out of their business, but it seems Murphy had nothing better to at this hour.

The pink party pony standing in the door frame, had her eyes as wide as dinner plates. The elder beings knew that her stupor was only temporary – that she was going to explode as soon as her interpretation of what she saw, had been processed in that confetti-filled mind.

It… it took longer than expected – the nobles definitely left an impression on Pinkie Pie.

The tension grew thicker with time, that left Luna and Discord awkwardly glancing between each other. Was she literally just going to stand there?

“Oh. My. GOSH!” Pinkie’s shrill voice finally crashed into their ears, much to their relief and discomfort. The pink pony did react as they figured she would. She remained within the entry of the throne room, pacing up and down, “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! I mean, I have to believe it, now that I’ve seen it, but the likeliness of that happening was, like, suuuper tiny and it’s not like anyone would know that you guys have been doing this, cause WHO’S EVEN UP THIS TIME OF THE NIGHT?!”

“Pinkie, w-what are you doing here?” Luna asked before Pinkie began to rant, tripping over her tongue as she spoke. Yep, still not one for surprises, “How did you get passed the guards?!”

“Oh, I have my ways... and somepony had to discuss the cake flavors for the upcoming birthday party of the Moon Princess herself,” she brushed off, “- but you…” She pointed a hoof at Luna, then, after a moment, at Discord, “…aaand you! I want to know EVERYTHING! When did it start? Who started it? Who said what and who did what and why-“

“-Wait, wait, wait, wait, Wait! Whoa! Hold your wagon, Candy Floss!” Discord interrupted the earth pony with frantic waving-movements of his paws, before looking at Luna with a funny, accusing look, “Your birthday is coming up soon? You didn’t tell me?”

“This is not the time or place for this!” Luna hissed. Discord looked at Pinkie – who was just a hint more hyper than she normally was.

“Fine, but this discussion isn’t over, mare.”  Discord tossed one more glance at Luna as he lifted his lion-paw, about to snap his fingers together. Luna gave a small nod of approval and Discord took it as his queue. With the snap of his fingers, he sent them all to his house in his home-dimension.

...

Luna settled herself onto a long couch on the ceiling, which was a surprisingly fast time to adjust - in Pinkie’s mind - considering how they all ended up defying gravity so suddenly. It amused the mare, because she knew for a fact that Luna didn’t like surprises – she even made a note in Luna’s party file: “No surprise parties!”

Discords floated by as Pinkie hopped onto an armchair, getting face to face with the Lord of Chaos. He spoke, “Ok, Dinky-”

“Pinkie.” Luna corrected him.

“Whatever,” Discord discarded, not at all phasing Pinkie, “How much did you see?”

“Enough to get the situation, silly!” Pinkie giggled carelessly.

“What was the first thing you noticed us doing, foal?” Discord rolled his eyes as he spoke, moving over to the couch Luna was lounging on, to sit beside her.

“I dunno. The trash-talking about tricks and stuff? Ooooh, is that a floating mail pony out there?!” the party pony pointed out of the window.

The nobles visibly cringed, looking at each other in concern, Discord making a mental note to send the mail pony to his dimension this evening – maybe get the stallion a pizza or something…

Of all ponies in Equestria to find out about their arrangement they worked so hard on keeping a secret, it just had to be the loudest pony of them all. Pinkie Pie. By the next hour upon her freedom, the whole world will probably know about their hidden life. Reputations: ruined.

But it can’t all be in vain, can it?

“Pinkie,” Luna began as calm as she could muster, even as Discord started chewing his claws it thought – something she kept scolding him for, “…w-we didn’t expect you to, um, grace us… with you presence…”

Pinkie perked up at Luna’s choice of words, “Well, I didn’t plan on coming, but I woke up from this CRAZY dream that totally inspired a super cool idea for your birthday party! At first I thought,  ‘Hey, it’s impolite to show up at someone’s door so early in the morning-‘ but then I remembered that you are the princess of the night! THEN, I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it, technically, be too late to visit in your case?’ then I thought, ‘Nah, she’s cool, she’ll-‘“

Pinkie’s mouth was suddenly zipped shut as if it was an actual zipper, only letting out muffled sounds, before she felt the sudden change of her lips. I didn’t hurt, but it served as a good enough distraction to get her attention set on Discord, who looked unamused to say the least.

He looked at Luna, “I think now is a good time to erase this memory of hers, don’t you?”

The princess was shocked at his suggestion, but before she could protest, the sound of a zipper stole her queue, followed by a shrill yelp by the curly maned pony, “Wait! You can’t just do that without telling me your story!”

“Yes I can.” Discord scoffed with a smirk.

“No you can’t! Not until you tell me… EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL! Then you can do whatever you want with what I saw.” Pinkie said almost smugly.

“What does it matter whether we tell you or not? Either way, your memory could be erased!”

“It does matter.” Pinkie said certainly, “Not only will I have closure, but so will you  - and I know my closure will only be there for a little while, but I’m so curious, I could explode!”

The nobles, once again shared a look.

“She has a good point,” Luna said, bringing a hoof to her chin, “…we have nothing to loose if we tell her.” Discord’s eyes widened, as if he was surprised with her actually supporting the idea. She blushed slightly and fiddled with her fore hooves, “Besides, it would actually be nice to have the time to talk with a friend about our story…”

Discord shrugged, then looked at Pinkie as a devilish smile crept on his face, “Every detail, you say?”

Luna stammered, waving her hooves, “M-maybe not every detail…”

“No! Every detail!” Pinkie stated with a crazed expression, “You are planning to erase one CRAZY memory I would treasure for my WHOLE LIFE! You AT LEAST owe me the full story!”

“It’s a long story, Pinkie.”

“I like stories, Your Majesty.”

Discord wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Luna, but she still tried to reason with the earth pony, “I don’t think you would want to hear everything, dear! Some of it is… mature…”

Pinkie lifted an eyebrow, “With the most possible respect, Princess, I can assure you that I am very sure about the type of scandals you two have been up to – by the looks of the roll of toilet paper next to the picture of you on the bedside cabinet over there.”

Discord choked on his tea he was sipping and went into a coughing fit, while blushing… like a mule with bronchitis. Luna’s mouth fell open, then she got up and walked into Pinkie’s line of sight to look into Discords room. The evidence was just as the pink pony described it and the dark pony could only stare at Discord with her mouth agape. She finally resumed her seat next Discord, once he calmed down, muttering under her breath that they will have a talk after they were done with their story.

Pinkie held a smug smile, knowing she could be as childish as she could be childlike.

After a brief silence, Luna cleared her throat, “Erm, so, who is going to tell the story?”

Discord, now completely recovered, cast a sly look to the princess, “Oh, we’re not telling, Lulu, we’re SHOWING.”

Before Discord opened a large window into the past with the snap his digits, Luna could only sigh.

“Oh boy...”

Masterlist

Next: Chapter 1

All chapters

[geometragic]

Notes on Gakuen Basara (Katsuie-only version)

(( Warning: Extremely long post beneath the read-more ! ))

Episode 5

Last week, Sakon and Katsuie skipped a grade to become Year 1 students at Basara Academy. Katsuie is rumored to be a reformed delinquent.

Yukimura introduces himself to Katsuie, but Katsuie asks him, “What assistance could you give to someone who is already no better than a ghost?” Katsuie wants to be left alone by other people.

Katsuie initially dismisses the Mr. Basara Hottest of Men Contest. Sakon suddenly shows up and declares that he wants to enter so that he can make his perfect high school debut, and it turns out that Ieyasu already entered Katsuie so that he could strengthen his bonds with the students. Katsuie tries to argue that he doesn’t deserve to be in the contest, but Ieyasu tells him he does. Sakon glares at Ieyasu.

Mitsunari brings Sakon to Hideyoshi and Hanbei’s underground hideout. Hideyoshi glares at Sakon when Sakon says that he thought that Hideyoshi and Hanbei were suspended, and Sakons quickly covers his mouth and shuts up. Hanbei tells Sakon that he wants him to win because, if Katsuie loses, Ieyasu’s reputation will plummet because he forced him to enter. Sakon says that they’re putting a lot of pressure on him, but Mitsunari tells him that the arrangements have already been made.

Katsuie has many admirers among the girls.

Ieyasu asks Katsuie where the fire in his heart has gone. Ieyasu mentions how Katsuie once challenged Headmaster Nobunaga, which gives Katsuie traumatic flashbacks of that day and makes him faint on his desk. Ieyasu requests for Katsuie to be put on the baseball team. Kojuro protests, but Masamune allows Katsuie to join the baseball team. Masamune puts Katsuie through intensive training so that he can surpass his own limits and break out of his shell.

On a rainy day at a warehouse, Katsuie told Nobunaga that today was the day he would die (and Katsuie would defeat him) so that Katsuie could have everything. Nobunaga just made him explode. Oichi watched everything silently, then left with Nobunaga in Nobunaga’s fancy car with professional drivers. Katsuie was left face-down in the rain.

At first, Katsuie sucks at catching balls, but eventually he catches one. Suddenly, a bunch of fangirls come out of nowhere and yell that Katsuie did amazing, and that his melancholic eyes are so dreamy. However, Oichi then tells him to his face that she hates him and despises him. Katsuie then loses all confidence of ever moving on from that day, and runs off screaming. However, it turns out that she wasn’t talking to Katsuie, and she was just saying that she hates whoever defaced Nagamasa’s poster.

Katsuie tries to drop out of the Mr. Basara Hottest of Men Contest because he’s tired to being publicly humiliated. He then declares that he will become a deep-sea fish and go rot at the bottom of the ocean. When Ieyasu protests, Katsuie yells at them to leave him alone. Sakon then appears and says that he can’t do that because he’s been ordered to take down Katsuie. Masamune coaxes Katsuie into accepting Sakon’s challenge. Katsuie swipes Sakon’s dice and asks him what kind of challenge he has in mind.

Katsuie and Sakon challenge each other in a “look that way now” sudden death match. They end up being evenly matched in what becomes a heated match. Sakon can’t read Katsuie’s eyes because they’re like darkness itself. Katsuie feels that Sakon has lit a fire in his heart, and Sakon feels that the challenge isn’t about Mitsunari or Hideyoshi anymore, but the gamble of a lifetime. Katsuie wins. At first claims that he doesn’t have the right to rejoice openly, but when he spots a smiling Oichi in the crowd, he smiles. Sakon declares that victory is all in the roll of the dice, and that he won’t lose to Katsuie next time. Katsuie says that he’ll remember that, and shakes Sakon’s outstretched hand.

Episode 7

Katsuie is the “ghost-in-chief” in charge of the haunted house. However, he used the whole budget on a cheap trick that makes a rokurokubi appear to stretch itself out of a well and wiggle. Ieyasu (”Tokugawa-shi”) compliments it, though. Ieyasu then helps him turn it into a reverse haunted house: whoever can truly strike fear into Katsuie’s heart is the winner.

Later, Mitsunari bursts out of the door to the haunted house, complaining about how Katsuie (”Shibata”) won’t let him put a sea creature (a hood) in there. Katsuie gives the hood a rating of -5 points because of its terrible design and halfhearted stitching. Also, Ieyasu brought Kingo to be used as the fear meter. Katsuie proudly proclaims himself to be the law of the haunted house. Mitsunari says that this is just one of Ieyasu’s bids for popularity and that he wasted his time coming to the haunted house.

Kojuro wears horns and a sheet on top, but Katsuie is dissatisfied with it and only awards it 2 points. Masamune wears knight armor and points six swords at Kingo, but because he’s inspiring the wrong type of fear, he only gets 3 points. Yukimura writes characters on himself and presents himself as Hoichi the Earless, but because he’s too energetic, Katsuie gives him a terror factor of zero. Sakon wraps himself in toilet paper and pretends to be a mummy, but Katsuie throws a bucket of water over him, calls it a childish prank, and gives him only two points. Sakon protests, saying that he didn’t have to come. Keiji dresses himself and Yumekichi up as members of K.I.S.S. (?), but Katsuie criticizes it for being just a stage costume.

Dr. Akechi comes in with an anatomical model and a skeleton. Katsuie feels like using those against the rules, but since Dr. Akechi came in with a creeping terror and caused Kingo (”Kobayakwa-shi”) to faint after giving his loudest scream of the day, Katsuie seems to consider letting him win. However, Dr. Akechi forfeits and says that he still has long to go, before pulling out a green notebook, Katsuie’s “Ghost King Diary” (“Kaioh Nikki”). Katsuie looks terrified and asks him where he got it.

Inside the “Ghost King Diary”, Katsuie says that he sees through Nobunaga. He also hates his powerlessness and Nobunaga, and longs to one day become the “Ghost King” again and defeat Nobunaga. He would gladly offer up his life to the devil himself to do so. Other entries from the “Ghost King Diary”: “X/X Lord Nobunaga was overwhelming as usual today. But one day, I will surpass him! Yes, I shall appear as the giant deidarabocchi titan...”, “YY/XX I am all alone in this world. But I am not content! My goal is to strike down the high king, and as the new Ghost King, to sit on the throne of ASB President...”, “ZZ/YY If I gain independence from Lord Nobunaga and defeat Azai-shi in our tests, would it sadden Lady Oichi? No, I am the one who truly deserves Lady Oichi!” Katsuie cries out for Dr. Akechi to stop, but he doesn’t. The next entry that Dr. Akechi reads out loud: “Oichi-sama...she was weeping again today. Who caused these tears? My beautiful Oichi-sama! I will never forgive them!” More entries from the “Ghost King Diary”, with Oichi as the subject: “AA/AA *sparkling crying kaomoji* Oichi-sama. Oh, Oichi-sama. Oichi-sama.”, “Nobunaga-sama’s reprimand has brought tears to her eyes. They are beautiful...nevertheless, I must make him pay, even if he is Nobunaga-sama. But she is so beautiful...” Katsuie turns white and gives up on life, and believes that he was foolish for keeping a diary.

The entries in Katsuie’s diary badly scare Keiji, Sasuke, Yukimura, Kojuro, Masamune, (and maybe Sakon? He isn’t shown at first but then he shows up a couple shots later...). Dr. Akechi concludes by implying that Katsuie is the scariest one of them all, and Ieyasu gives Katsuie the grand prize (free tickets for all displays in the school).

Everyone takes Katsuie’s tickets and has fun going to the displays. In the cat-themed maid cafe, Katsuie sits at a separate table and has Matsu’s Russian roulette onigiri with everyone else, but unfortunately, he eats the one that’s full of wasabi.

At the bonfire dance after Sports Day, Sakon and Katsuie dance together happily. Nagamasa and Oichi also dance together. Nagamasa has his usual stony expression, while Oichi smiles.

Episode 9

Katsuie is there when Ieyasu announces the choir concert.

The last time the school song was played, it was at the first day of school for the first-years. However, it was abolished because it’s cursed. Whenever anyone sings it, terrible things happen, according to Dr. Akechi. Once Dr. Akechi leaves, Katsuie says that he’d love to hear the cursed song, causing Sasuke to protest.

Katsuie holds a Basara Academy flag in the background while Ieyasu sings his version of a new school song. Mitsunari interrupts and yells at Ieyasu to stop, though. 

Katsuie later turns to try to leave, but Sakon stops him and says that he hasn’t heard his song yet. Katsuie tries to protest, but he ends up playing a crappy song on a recorder, which is “the sound of his current self.” Even if he never ends up in the spotlight, he’ll never forgive Nobunaga for what he’s done and wants to take Nobunaga down with him. The bell gets rung again, and Sakon looks sorry that he asked to hear Katsuie’s song. Ieyasu tells Katsuie that he did a good job by performing in front of all of them and giving a brilliant effort.

When Motochika kicks Motonari’s big CD player, it ends up loudly playing the cursed school song, which overpowers everyone and sends them to the ground. Someone pulls out the plug to the CD player, but Nobunaga keeps singing it over the intercom. After Dr. Akechi tells them that it’ll put an end to the school, everyone runs to the headmaster’s office, but he’s not there. They run to the roof and spot him on the playing field. He speaks the final words of the song (”so long”), but nothing happens. It turns out that everyone was tricked by Dr. Akechi. Everyone glares at him, annoyed, before beating him up.

The Oda army took everything from Itsuki’s peasant village / the Ikko-Ikki. They set fire to the villages, and killed children and the elderly in addition to the fugitive monks. (Siege of Nagashima and Ishiyama Hongan-ji?)

Episode 10

Mitsunari explains to Sakon that tomorrow is the Battle of Sekigahara, an annual event where the school is divided into East and West in a battle for supremacy. This year, Mitsunari will lead the Western army and Ieyasu will lead the Eastern army. Sakon deducts that the Battle of Sekigahara is a dry run for the elections, and if Mitsunari won, it’d give him a major boost. Mitsunari orders Sakon to recruit Motochika and as many champions as he can to join the Western army. Sakon says that Mitsunari can count on him.

Motochika tells Sakon no because he has more important things to deal with right now. Sakon tells him not to be like that since they have a plan that’ll make the Western army sure to win. Meanwhile, inside the school building and on one of the upper floors, Katsuie spots Sakon and Motochika through a window. Sakon tells Motochika that he did a number on the carburetor. Motochika tells him “bite me”, and Sakon mentions that he has a buddy who runs a bike shop. Sakon offers to play a game of dice with Motochika. If Motochika wins, Sakon will ask him to fix Motochika’s bike for free, but if Sakon wins, Motochika will join the Western army. Meanwhile, Katsuie has gone outside, and has been spying on Sakon and Motochika. Motochika agrees to the game, but says that he doesn’t want any tricks. Sakon appears to put the dice in the face-down cup, but from behind Katsuie can see that he’s holding an extra set behind his back. Motochika bets on odds, and Sakon lifts up the cup to reveal an even snake eyes.

Katsuie reports back to Ieyasu. Ieyasu tells him that he’s going to rely on the power of bonds and won’t force anyone to join him. Some nerdy, weak-looking background character with glasses shows up, and Ieyasu walks away and asks if he wants to join. Katsuie decides that he has to handle things himself. Katsuie thinks about how he never would’ve fit in at school if Ieyasu hadn’t helped him, and he wants to repay him for his kindness.

Katsuie approaches Keiji, but he already told Sakon that he’d join the Western army. The same happens with Nagamasa, Oichi, Toshiie, and Matsu. He tries to recruit Kanbei, but Sakon, who’s sitting in a nearby tree, interrupts them and asks Kanbei if he doesn’t want to think it over first. Sakon jumps out of the tree and tells Kanbei to forget Katsuie and join the Western army. Sakon then whispers to Kanbei that, if they win, Gyobu will tell Kanbei where to find the key. Kanbei joins the Western army.

Katsuie goes to the School Newspaper club’s room to try to persuade Kotaro to join, but he walks in on Sakon and Kotaro shaking hands on Kotaro’s deal to join the Western army.

Sakon walks through the halls, already seeing the Western army winning, but Motochika stops him. Sakon says that he can’t have a rematch. Katsuie steps out from behind Motochika, apparently having told him everything that he saw.

Katsuie is there when Kasuga tells Ieyasu that Tadakatsu has gone missing. Motochika says that he last saw Tadakatsu with Gyobu.

It turns out that Gyobu told Tadakatsu that Ieyasu had been kidnapped, tied him up, and locked him in the basement. He then sprayed sleeping powder on Tadakatsu, which is supposed to knock him out until tomorrow night. Gyobu tells this to Mitsunari and Sakon, and Mitsunari praises him. They all chuckle evilly, but then Katsuie, Kasuga, Ieyasu, and Motochika barge in. Ieyasu asks Mitsunari where Tadakatsu is. Mitsunari tells them all to get out, but then Katsuie says that they know that the leaders of the Western army kidnapped him. Sakon plays dumb and tells Katsuie not to make bizarre accusations just because he lost the scouting wars. Ieyasu yells for Tadakatsu, waking him up. Tadakatsu frees himself from his chains and crashes through the roof and into Mitsunari’s classroom. Ieyasu declares that this is the strength of their bond. Mitsunari still declares that he will destroy Ieyasu tomorrow.

The Sekigahara Dodgeball Tournament takes place. Mitsunari (flying into the air with Gyobu) and Ieyasu (flying into the air with Tadakatsu) focus on trying to get each other out, leaving the rest of the students on the ground doing nothing.

Episode 11

Nobunaga gives a surprise evacuation drill. Anyone who can’t leave in time will get expelled. Chaos erupts as students run out and Nobunaga’s hidden, life-threatening traps are triggered.

Katsuie slowly walks towards the exit, bemoaning how he never had any right to be a student at this school to begin with, but a crowd of fleeing students mows him down. He says, “And thus...I descend...to Hell...” He somehow reunites later with a group of students that includes Motonari, Mitsunari, Sakon, Motochika, Kojuro, and Sasuke, though. Yukimura and Masamune then get stomped into the room.

Tadakatsu can’t break through the metal doors, and Katsuie bemoans how they’ll all be expelled now.

Episode 12

Katsuie and Masamune help out Ieyasu on election day. Sakon and Katsuie sit next to each other at the 836th Student Elections. Magoichi holds a debate between Ieyasu and Mitsunari.

Katsuie, along with the other students, runs to fight Xavi and his flying ship.

[alwayssunnyprompts]

Maybe something like Dennis has been throwing up for a while, and he refuses to leave the bathroom. Cue Mac carrying Dennis because he's too weak and sick to walk? Just an idea. :)

Mac unlocks the door to the apartment after what felt like the longest shift of his life. Sure, it’s their bar and he doesn’t really do much actual working, but hours of ocular pat-downs and Charlie and Dee’s schemes are work enough on their own, and it gets tiring sometimes, even on his best days. And the days that he’s the most tired, or overwhelmed, or just wanting to have a quiet evening—those are the days that seem to be the loudest, the most exhausting—because of course they are.

Mac feels his heart leap to his chest as he steps inside, and deep down—or maybe not so deep—he knows why he had a bad day. Dennis had decided to stay home from work, something he did very rarely, aside from the occasional recovery days he took when he had an especially bad episode. Today, though, he’d slept right through his alarm, the first red flag. It caught Mac’s attention, planting a small, evil seed of worry in his chest. When Dennis finally woke up, he didn’t say much, just that he wasn’t feeling well and told Mac to pass along the news that he wouldn’t be coming in, before mumbling a quiet thanks and falling back asleep.

Mac had half a mind to call in, too, but he knew that the gang would misinterpret the situation and probably give them shit for it, so he reluctantly spent his afternoon and evening with anxiety coiled in his chest, awaiting the end of the day so he could go home.

“Den?”

It’s too quiet, he can hear the creaking and groaning of the building’s foundation, the ticking of the clock that Dennis insists they keep in the kitchen. Nothing is out of place, in the living room or the kitchen, so Mac figures Dennis spent the day in bed. Something about the silence is making his ears ring, and he feels the pain in his arm that he knows comes in full force when he starts to panic. He massages his forearm and swallows down the feeling as he sees light spilling from the crack under their bathroom door.

He knocks gently, but it’s enough to cause the unlocked door to swing open slowly. Dennis lying curled up on a towel next to the toilet.

“Shit.” Mac crouches down next to him.

Dennis looks like he’s dying. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his face is a sickly grayish-pale. He’s trembling, and damp and Mac can feel the heat radiating off his body. Reaching out, he lays a gentle hand on Dennis’ forehead; he’s burning up. At the contact, Dennis stirs, his eyes bloodshot and glassy as he stares blankly up at Mac.

“Hey, dude,” Mac says softly, his hand still resting against his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Dennis squeezes his eyes shut and braces his body against a particularly violent shiver, swallows convulsively, clears his throat, his voice raw.

“Sick,” he whispers.

It must be bad if he’s willing to admit it. Still, Mac feels a wave of affection at the ridiculously obvious answer, but it’s there and gone as Dennis shifts under his hand, struggling to get upright as he gags suddenly. Mac snaps into action, lifting Dennis quickly and gently, holds him still as he retches violently into the toilet, a few tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. He raises one hand to stroke Dennis’s back, trying to distract himself from the nausea-inducing noises by comforting him as best he can.

“Let it out, dude. You’re okay,” he says, maybe trying to convince them both. “You’re gonna feel better soon.”

Dennis collapses against him, breathing heavily, not having really brought much up other than stomach acid. Mac reaches up to flush the toilet before continuing to rub Dennis’s back, holding him close. He doesn’t really care about germs when it comes to Dennis; they live in the same house, so they basically share everything. Besides, he’d much rather take care of Dennis than leave him alone when he’s sick.

“Den, have you been this bad all day?”

Dennis’ eyes are shut again, his head listing limply against Mac’s chest. He nods once, briefly.

“Felt like shit this morning,” he croaks. “Been in here for hours. Lost track of time. Tired.”

He definitely looks exhausted, and Mac nods, pulling him closer slowly, trying not to make him feel worse with too much movement. He feels guilty as he thinks about Dennis here alone all day, asleep on the bathroom floor and absolutely miserable. He should have checked in, should have come home earlier. In this rare case, his anxiety would have served them well.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay home?”

Dennis presses ever so slightly closer to Mac.

“Didn’t you to worry—it’s annoying,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Hmm.” Mac nods slowly.

With Dennis pressed against him, he can really feel the fevered clamminess of his skin, see the dark rings under his eyes.

“Have you been drinking enough water?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. Dennis clears his throat again.

“Can’t walk,” he says. “Too sick…too tired to get to the kitchen.”

“Okay. You know that you need to stay hydrated, though. You’ll feel even sicker if you’re dehydrated. Want me to get you some water?”

“Mac,” his soft whine vibrates against Mac’s shirt. “Don’t go.”

Mac sighs.

“You need to drink, Dennis. Let me help you out of here, then. You can lay on the couch and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Dennis whimpers, grabs Mac’s shirt.

“Can’t move,” he says. “Legs are weak. Afraid to get sick again.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna argue with you. You need to drink.”

His heart is drumming a thunderous beat in his chest. Dennis leans against Mac, hides his face and goes lax in his arms, breathing shallow and quick. He’s shaking like a leaf. And Mac is so scared because he’s acting like Dennis when he’s blackout drunk; foggy and weak and half-conscious and whiny. But it feels so much scarier than that, because it shows just how delirious Dennis is, how badly the fever is affecting him.

He speaks softly, “I don’t want to leave you in here alone, so you have to work with me, Den.”

“Can’t.”

With each passing lull in the conversation he gets more frustrated. He needs to get Dennis out of here and closer to the kitchen, closer to water and the couch and fresh air.

“Dennis, we have to move. Can I carry you?”

Through the delirium, Dennis actually manages to scoff. He tries to roll his eyes, but they’re half-lidded and his reaction time is slowed, so it just looks painful.

“Can’t carry me—not strong enough.”

Mac feels hot rage slice through his chest and takes a deep breath, trying to shove it down, because he knows Dennis doesn’t mean it. Even if he does, it’ll be easy to prove him wrong.

“Yeah, we’ll see. I’m gonna lift you now,” he announces, calmly as he can muster.

He positions his arms under Dennis’ knees and behind his back, standing carefully. He feels like nothing in his arms. Before Mac got more bigger, he’d struggled trying to lift Dennis, even though he was small. But now he’s ripped, and Dennis is even skinnier than he was. Mac feels a little sick himself at the thought of Dennis not taking care of himself, all alone Dakota. He can feel his shoulder blade poking against his arm as he holds him close, the loose fabric from his sweater brushing against his hand. Dennis’ arms are slung around Mac’s neck and his face nestled near his shoulder, gasping, uneven and faint, against his skin.

“There, told you I could do it,” he says. “You okay?”

Dennis swallows roughly and tries to slow his breathing.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Okay.”

Mac slowly makes his way to the living room, not because carrying Dennis is difficult, but because he’s being extra careful not to jostle him too much. He’s sweating a ton, Mac can feel the sticky heat against his skin, and decides he should probably find him some Motrin or Tylenol to bring down the fever. Though, he’s unsure whether Dennis can even handle swallowing pills without getting sick again. Starting with water is probably the best idea, but he doubts that will go well either.

He sets Dennis down gently on the couch. Dennis immediately curls in on himself, shivering. His skin looks reflective; waxy and icy pale in the soft lights of the kitchen streaming into the living room.

“I’m gonna go grab a cup for you, okay? Be right back.”

He busies himself in the kitchen, trying to keep noises to a minimum. He fills a glass with water, grabs a sleeve of crackers and couple pills from the cabinet for later, and balances it all in his hands, walking carefully back to the living room.

Mac lowers himself to sit in the small space between the couch and the coffee table, as close to Dennis as he can be without sitting on top of him. He sets the provisions and cup of water on the table, trying to muffle the clunk of wood against glass, before he thinks better of it and lifts it to rest on a coaster instead. If Dennis was more aware, he’d approve.

He reaches over and rests a hand on Dennis’ head, carding his fingers through his damp curls. Mac notices his muscles loosen a little, a bit of tension vanishing with the soothing rhythm.

“Want to try some water?” Mac murmurs.

He can see that Dennis’ lips are dry and cracked, and that his skin is sallow.

“Mhmm.”

Dennis lets Mac maneuver him slowly into a sitting position, his head resting against Mac’s hand.

Mac picks up the glass, raising it slowly to his lips.

“Small sips,” he says.

Dennis obeys, taking tiny, cautious sips for a few seconds before closing his mouth firmly, taking several slow, deep breaths in through his nose.

“Okay?”

A tense few moments later, Dennis nods slowly, finally letting his eyes open.

“Okay. Thanks, Mac.”

“Sure, man,” the words roll easily off his tongue. “It’s nothing.”

And it is. Taking care of Dennis is his full-time job, one he wouldn’t trade for almost anything in the world. He’s so used to it by now that without Dennis to care for, he isn’t even sure what his purpose actually is. If there’s anything he’s come to know in his time without Dennis, it’s that he never wants to be that far apart from him again.

It was miserable.

Not knowing when something was wrong, not having anybody to look after, to watch movies with, or go on drives with, or to comfort him when he had an anxiety attack at three in the morning. So, he’d started looking out for himself in Dennis’ place; he actually dedicated time to working out, he cleaned the apartment—and Dee’s—and started hanging out more with the gang. He ate healthy food and tried to get stronger and tried to get more proud of his identity as a gay man. He learned how to talk himself down from the ledge when the anxiety got ahold of his brain. Objectively speaking, he was thriving. But he still went to bed alone every night, stayed in Dennis’ room, noticed his ghost in every corner of his life. He missed him, he needed him. Even when his life was good, it couldn’t be perfect without Dennis.

Dennis shifts on the couch and Mac’s eyes immediately lift to look at him. His hand reaches out for Mac’s, still lying on the cushion next to him, grips it hard and brings it to rest against his head.

“So hot,” he murmurs. “Your hand is cold and I’m hot.”

He’s right. He can feel the dry, scorching heat radiating from his forehead, the sweat having since dried and leaving his skin feeling smooth and dangerously warm.

“Want the pills?”

Dennis closes his eyes, keeps his hold on Mac’s wrist. His hands look delicate and bony, but his grip is firm and deliberate.

“No,” he whispers. “Not yet.”

“Let me know when, okay? I’ll be right here.”

A tiny smile. A small squeeze at his hand.

[vampiresmiled]

✩ watergate

i want to preface this by saying that i hate watergate and the fact that this meme is four-hundred pages long only furthered my hatred for this abomination of a ship. and yes, i am using kennedy walsh as a mascot for this occasion. mind your own.

DISAGREEMENTS

who is more likely to raise their voice? we been through this. it’s mickey, he inherited his father’s temper. giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘daddy issues.’who threatens to leave but never actually does? mickey. the man is full of empty promises. who actually keeps their word and leaves? emma. mickey would never leave, he’s mickey : abandonment issues and all. who trashes the house? worst case scenario, mickey. but normal circumstances, nobody. they’re not wolfgang circa 2016, post ziba finding out about his heart issues, oil on canvas. do either of them get physical? i mean, #basementgate … ringing any bells ? it’d be a mistake on mickey’s part, otherwise no. how often do they argue/disagree? only when their collective insecurities start acting up. and if my memory serves me right, that’s like every other week. who is the first to apologise? both, simultaneously. 

SEX

who is on top? do you remember You 1x04 ? joe was on top … let’s aim for nine seconds, okay.who is on the bottom? did i not just answer that. who has the strangest desires? what is this, an episode of lucifer ? jokes, all jokes. probably emma. shy in the streets, freaky in the sheets. any kinks? does … harmonicas count ? literally retire the joke, mads – RETIRE IT.who’s dominant in bed? neither. they’re vanilla and boring and i hate them.is head ever in the equation? it’s always in the equation, we’re no dj khaled stans here.if so, who is better at performing it? mickey will toss your salad like he’s aidan gallagher’s biggest fan.ever had sex in public? public sex for them is in her car. so, yes.who moans the most? emma ‘cos she never knows when to zip it.who leaves the most marks? mickey. mark your territory, y’know. it’s critical.who screams the loudest? i said what i said.who is the more experienced of the two? big oof @ emma’s bodycount. do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they make sweet, sweet love.rough or soft? soft as hale.how long do they usually last? 9 seconds. however adequately long is … that’s how long. they drag it out. make a day out of it. is protection used? they never wrap it before they tap it. and with is history of … you know, [ finger banging motions ] emma should’ve had chlamydia by now. but yes, they wrap it. sometimes. they don’t remember that often.does it ever get boring? nope. where is the strangest place they’d have sex? on his mother’s grave. or maybe not. i dunno, would they fuck at a preschool ? i don’t put it past them.

FAMILY

do your muses plan on having children/or have children? together they haven’t spoken about it. but separately, fuck yeah. if so, how many children do your muses want/have? i feel like emma wants two or three, mickey wants a football team.who is the favorite parent? since mickey is gonna be a stay-at-home dad, fuck you, him. who is the authoritative parent? odette. they hire her to come in every week to stare real hard at the kids until they clean the entire house unprompted. works like wonders. super nanny who ?who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? mickey. who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? mickey, mickey, mickey. emma’s all about carrots and nutritions. fuck that, we’re going to mcdonkey d.who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? mickey organizes the extra curricular activities. he’s that dad.who goes to parent teacher interviews? emma ‘cos mickey gets mistaken for flirting with the the mrs. grundy looking teach every single time. not riverdale!grundy, comics!grundy. [ chicken girls vc ] spicy … who changes the diapers? mickey avoided it for the first couple of months by sheer magic and a lot of pampering @ emma. but she caught on, and then he was on diaper duty for a full year. after that the kid doesn’t need diapers so … unless they wee the bed then we have another problem on our hands. who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? mickey, that’s how he avoided diaper changes. who spends the most time with the children? mickey ‘cos he’s ugly and unemployed. who packs their lunch boxes? emma ‘cos mickey would sneak brownies in there and all the other kids would get jealous and cry during lunch. true story, i was there. who gives their children ‘the talk’? mickey would want to but seeing as he’s who he is, emma took it upon herself to give them a more science based talk. ironic considering what his current job is but … who cleans up after the kids? mickey-boy.who worries the most? emma by a long shot. mickey has zero cares in the world. he’s the type of dad to toss the kids up 375ft into the air while emma yells frantically in the background of the video odette is filming. she’s there for chaos, not so much for telling mickey the kid’s neck can break. who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? i think emma. mickey’s gonna be super good with coming up with psuedo-swears like motherflubber and fudge. emma will slip up, i know she will.  

AFFECTION

who likes to cuddle? both.who is the little spoon? mickey, he likes to be held – it makes him feel safe.who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? fucking mickey the horn-dog. who struggles to keep their hands to themself? did you not see what i just said.   how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? several hours. they never get uncomfy, fuck off. who gives the most kisses? listen, mickey loves giving love. whatever that touchy feely result was on the love language quiz, that was he. so, – he’ll smooch her everywhere and whenever. try and stop him, you can’t. except they’re not dating right now so i guess he’s successfully kept at bay. barely. what is their favourite non-sexual activity? banter. like genuinely. they just sit on the sofa and tear each other apart. it’s a good old time. that or soaps. mickey’s a huge fan of days of our lives.where is their favourite place to cuddle? probably couch. who is more likely to playfully grope the other? mickey. but emma’s known to grab his ass at times which is honestly childish, emma quit it. how often do they get time to themselves? seeing as they’re currently childless and also single, all the time in the world.

SLEEPING

who snores? emma, i said it.if both do, who snores the loudest? emma …do they share a bed or sleep separately? they’re not the weathers, ok.if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? close, so very close.who talks in their sleep? mickey. he says some dumb shit, she writes it down.what do they wear to bed? dicks out. kidding. mickey sleeps shirtless, and emma sleeps in his shirt. fair deal. are either of your muses insomniacs? no.can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? only if he wanna knock her out for some quiet. but also no.do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? they’re a whole ass pretzel, k. who wakes up with bed hair? emma might have more hair but mickey’s is untamed. who wakes up first? emma. who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? mickey is a king in the kitchen, so.what is their favourite sleeping position? his face full on in the crook of her neck and like completely wrapped up in each other like my headphones after 2 minutes.who hogs the sheets? both of them, every night is a struggle.do they set an alarm each night? emma does. mickey likes to wing it.can a television be found in their bedroom? no, emma said that’s not allowed and that’s why she’s currently sexless. who has nightmares? neither … who has ridiculous dreams? mickey, hence the talking. who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? mickey probably.who makes the bed? emma, she’s so responsible.what time is bed time? like two hours after they decide it’s time to sleep. they talk alot. and … do other things we shall not mention ( discuss the current political climate ). and they fuck. any routines/rituals before bed? dental hygiene is very important to them both so they spend like 20 minutes in the bathroom. who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? emma. mickey is ready :clap: to :clap: go !

WORK

who is the busiest? mickey. being a nurse is no joke. neither is having to take up shifts at the hardware store ‘cos your dad’s a drunk.who rakes in the highest income? i dunno. they both have shite jobs in terms of salary. google it. are any of your muses unemployed? not yet. who takes the most sick days? honestly, neither. mickey’s the type to go work with a flu and emma is too much of a suck-up to risk looking like a bad employee. who is more likely to turn up late to work? mickey. who sucks up to their boss? both. love that for them.what are their jobs? er nurse and preschool teacher. if you didn’t know that by now, kill yourself.who stresses the most? emma, no doubt, no doubt.do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? LOVE. are your muses financially stable? * laughs in the spirit of president snow choking to death on his own chortles * no.

HOME

who does the washing? mickey mixed the reds and whites once, so … take a gamble.who takes out the trash? mickey whenever he leaves for work. get it? ok.who does the ironing? mickey also burnt a hole in one of her shirts.who does the cooking? MICKEY. so stay out of the kitchen if you can’t handle the heat, woman.who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? emma.who is messier? mickey. who leaves the toilet roll empty? mickey, but it’s on purpose. you see … he likes to do it just so she’ll have to yell at him to get her some. it’s just funny. every time. sometimes he forgets to put it back before he leaves. those are the times he gets a roll thrown at his face when he gets home.who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? mickey. it’s charming.who forgets to flush the toilet? ew, no one.who is the prankster around the house? they’re both equally pranky … not a word ! mickey just tends to be more unexpected in his pranks. who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? emma. mickey doesn’t have his own car.who mows the lawn? they’re apartment people, buzz off.who answers the telephone? no one, their answering machine message is just too good to go to waste.who does the vacuuming? emma.who does the groceries? mickey.who takes the longest to shower? mickey. he’s depressed.who spends the most time in the bathroom? emma.

MISCELLANEOUS

is money a problem? of course it is. they’re broke.how many cars do they own? one.do they own their home or do they rent? rent.do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? … fuck if i know. where even is sheffield.do they live in the city or in the country? downtown, asshat.do they enjoy their surroundings? sure.what’s their song? i know it’s not 1998 yet. but – closing time by semisonic is a bop i’ve mentioned for them before. what do they do when they’re away from each other? pine.where did they first meet? i wanna say her place but she’s not that stupid. probably joe’s or something. how did they first meet? when mickey answered the roommate ad. who spends the most money when out shopping? mickey. it’s all on food.who’s more likely to flash their assets? like tits ? neither.who finds it amusing when the other trips over? mickey. and emma. both. they’re ten.any mental issues? plenty to go around.who’s terrified of bugs? emma.who kills the spiders around the house? mickey carries them outside, thank you very much.their favourite place? at home. yeah, they’re like that.who pays the bills? emma pays pays them, but like … he gives her money.do they have any fears for their future? so many we cannot get into that right now.who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? mickey. but like home-cooked ‘cos he’s a poor, poor man. who uses up all of the hot water? mickey.who’s the tallest? [ softly ] don’t. who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? ickey-mickey.who wanders around in their underwear? MICKEY. who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? they both try and out-sing each other. he starts it, she ends it. what do they tease each other about? harmonicas and their deepest insecurities. who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? remember the bee shirt.do they have mutual friends? no, jack hates him and i hate jack.who crushed first? i wanna say … mickey.any alcohol or substance related problems? nope.who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? mickey, it’s in his genes.who swears the most? neither of them swear that much but i guess i’ll have to go with the ugly one.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Our last winter, 2/31

► Our last winter - Human!Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler. ► Written for @doctorroseprompts 31 days of ficmas. Day 2: Hope. ► AU Verse, Teen. ► 1,717 words. ► A/N: This is a prequelle to Ghost of you.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.” - Edith Sitwell.

Third day of December 2012. Researches about a cure for Alzheimer. Maxence Spitz video log.

  Our researches are cruelly slowing down lately. We’re not going anywhere with this new ‘cure’ we’ve been asked to create. Every year we’re giving this stupid challenge of finding a cure for one of the most destructive diseases this world can count. For the last three years, we’ve been working on finding an experimental treatment that would prevent the persons genetically exposed to Alzheimer from suffering from the degeneration f their brain cells. So far, no one of the studies we’ve run came to a positive conclusion.

Unfortunately, Alzheimer seems to be the disease in vogue since we are recording an impressive increasement of people suffering from this terrible illness that’s eating up the brain cells and sick people sanity. I feel rough not to be able to help them. Science doesn’t bring the answer we need to understand the disease, its way of working. If we can’t figure this out, we can’t find a proper way to fight it. This situation is helpless.

Every year, we’re selling those so-called meds supposed to prevent or slow down the active genes but it actually doesn’t do anything. It’s a placebo made for people to believe that they can be healthy for a little while, that they can avoid this disease from making them go insane and impotent. If I could publicly apologise for all those fake hopes we’re giving them, I’d do them. But I’m their goose that lays the golden eggs and they want me to stay away from the medias as much as possible.

We’re synthesising something new at the moment. We completely changed the formula and followed Tegan’s directives. After all, he’s our neurologist. He knows the brain and its working better than any of us do. Clever man. I’m really glad to have hired him in my team. I wanted the best and he really is. And he has this very advantage of being humble. Still being a bit clumsy when I’m around too but he’s fitting well in his new work environment. I don’t want to disappoint people and he doesn’t want to disappoint me. So we’re both very involved in this mission. Just like the rest of my team.

  Maxence turned off the recording and sighed. It was long gone the happiness of this delightful and relaxing weekend in the snow with Rose. They had been back to work for a couple hours now and he was already feeling the knots coming back and the pressure eating him up like an army of dangerous ants. He wasn’t reacting well to anxiety. It was a known fact to everyone here. He scratched his elbow. This was one of the first signs. Rose would tap his hand and reprimand him if she could see that. But she was working in her own office. She was as serious as he was when it came to work. Hiring her in his team had been mandatory when she got her own doctorate with the best note. Those studies were what had saved her after the Jimmy Stone event. Those studies gave her a bright future, a future she had never imagined for herself.

He remembered taking his whole day off for her certificate presentation. He had helped her to relax and to prepare her speech of head of the class. He was sat at the front row of seats with his mother and they had applauded the loudest. After that, they had gone to the restaurant to celebrate and the very same day, when night fell on them while they were sharing a picnic in Hyde Park, he had asked her to marry him. To which she obviously said yes since they were married now for the best and for the worst. Their next step was to try to have kids. They were taking their time. There was no rush in this wish. For now, they were more focused on their career and on the two of them to have that child, but if it was falling on them suddenly, he wouldn’t mind either. Even if it would annoy their boss to have two brilliant scientists off because of a maternity/paternity leave.

  “Daydreaming again?”

  Maxence jumped at the knock on his door and the muffled voice he heard. He turned around to see that his wife was standing in front of the glass door with his name on it. ‘Maxence Spitz. Head of the biology department.’ Too showy for him. But that was his office and the ‘mention of department’ was important for his colleagues to know where they could go to have advices or new directives. He got up and walked the door he unlocked for Rose to come in. He stole a kiss from her.

  “Just thinking about you, love.”

  She couldn’t keep a straight face when he was telling her things like this and a large grin answered him. She pressed her lips against his and felt him smiling in return. That was those simple things that were making her loving him more and more every day.

  “Funny. I was thinking about you and about the fact it was time for us to go share a lunch.”

“You never come by for lunch usually. I have to come and get you.”

“I had nothing to do. We all have to wait until Colin and Martha are done.”

“True.”

  His hand found hers and she intertwined their fingers. She frowned and picked the glasses on his nose to have a proper look at them. She rolled her eyes and put it back where it belonged before he complained that he ‘couldn’t see the beauty of his fantastic wife’. It was a fun game sometimes to steal his glasses and see him looking for it everywhere and insulting every furniture he was bumping into.

  “You always complain about not seeing me without them but I don’t understand how you can see anything with them on.”

“You’re making fun of me. I don’t like it.”

“Oh, and the world is gonna stop turning because the great Maxence Spitz is pouting?”

  She lightly tapped his clean-shaven cheek. She had done a good work as usual. When Maxence was shaving himself, he was always cutting himself and insulting half the inhabitants of this planet. When she was doing it, there were no little cuts. Sometimes she would just sit on the toilet’s lid and watch him, bemused.

  “Of course, not. The world doesn’t revolve around me. But this lab might stop working!”

“Because it all revolves around you?”

“Have you seen the name of this door?” he bragged, pointing to the large letters on the door.

“Should I be impressed?”

“I am impressive!”

  Rose chuckled and finally they left his office to go to the cafeteria. They picked a tray and got in line for food. Finding a table was more difficult since it was the rush hour. Most scientists were coming at this time to eat and go back to work. They found a spot at the very bottom of the room. They sat down and started eating.

  “So what’s the problem with my lovely wife?”

“Wha’?”

“Oh, come on, you can’t hide anything from me.”

“I don’t want to raise your hopes high.”

“You’ve ordered my Christmas gif?”

“Sort of.”

  Maxence put his cutlery down and intertwined his fingers under his chin. He sank his blue eyes into her brown whiskey ones. She immediately looked down and played with her food. It confirmed him that something was wrong with Rose. He needed to know what it was. He wouldn’t let her in peace until she told him.

  “I’m late.”

“You’re late? What does that mean you’re late?”

She lowered her voice, “My period. It’s late.”

  His mouth formed a silent ‘O’ as he realised what it meant but Rose was biting her lower lip nervously. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t in their immediate plans. She didn’t want to ruin their career with a possible pregnancy. But Maxence seemed quite happy with this news.

  “It’s just two days, Max. Maybe it’s nothing but…”

“Do you want to do a test?” he asked her.

  He was trying not to be too happy about this news, not to raise his hopes too high. It wasn’t the first time that this scene was happening but they had never really hoped for it to be true until now. He took Rose’s hand in his and gently squeezed. She didn’t have to be nervous. He wouldn’t blame her if she was pregnant. They both wanted it to happen.

  “We can go to Liv. She will do the test. She won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t wanna force you.”

“I wanna know.”

  Maxence softly kissed her hand and reassured her that it was okay. He pulled her closer to him and she leant into him. They finished eating and dropped their empty trays on the trolley before heading to the infirmary. Liv was about to leave the place but she stopped her move when she saw the two of them.

  “Do you have a problem?”

  Liv was an old friend of Rose and Maxence. She had gotten this job thanks to them, she wasn’t hiding it. Maxence had wanted people he could trust around him. There was no better people to trust than his friends who thankfully were all specialised in the fields he needed. He had completed his team with the most talented people.

  “We’d like you to…” Maxence cleared his throat and looked around. “Is this possible for you to do a pregnancy test?”

  For a moment, Liv didn’t know what to answer. Then, she realised that it wasn’t any kind of joke. She made them come in the infirmary and took them to the exam room. She did a blood test.

  “I’ll do the test myself and I’ll tell you when the results will be there.”

“Thanks, Liv.”

  That was all. Now, they just had to wait. Rose was still anxious about the results and Maxence was hoping. He had promised not to raise his hopes high but he was still hoping that it would be positive because he wouldn’t have any better gift for Christmas than a child with the woman he loved…

Our last winter © | 2018 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

Buy me a coffee?

[saintedfury]

✩ Furia & Gat (inquiring eyebrows want to know)

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?Johnny, though even that is rare. Furia characteristically gets extremely quiet when she’s upset. Though when she is amused, she’ll raise her voice in laughter. 

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?I’m not sure that this would be a threat that either of them would ever use. Especially not given their past. 

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?Honestly, I think if either of them said they were leaving they would follow through with it. Neither of them are likely to make a threat that they would not carry out. 

Who trashes the house?I think both of these two are fairly orderly, but can both create a mess given half the chance. Like big meals–Furia can leave a hell of a mess in the kitchen. 

Do either of them get physical?I’m going to assume that this does not mean them physically abusing one another in anger. They spar with one another from time to time. And neither of them will run from a fight, in fact both of them are likely to go looking for one.

How often do they argue/disagree?Somewhat regularly. Though usually not about huge concerns. 

Who is the first to apologise?I’m not even sure. I think it will depend on who is in the wrong. I know Furia will only apologize if she feels she was the wrongdoer. Johnny is the same way. Neither of them will apologize for something they do not feel responsible for. Though it has taken them quite a while to come to that moment in their lives–apologizing without it being viewed as weakness.

Sex:

Who is on top?Most often, Johnny. But Furia does occasionally top him. 

Who is on the bottom?Most often, it’s Furia, but that’s by her own choice usually. She trusts laying control over into Johnny’s hands, especially in times when she might be feeling overwhelmed in other sectors of her life. 

Who has the strangest desires?This might just be Furia. She enjoys watching and being watched, being touched and caressed and kissed. Sometimes she likes to be dominant, other times she likes to be submissive to her lover. Her desires shift … on a dime so to speak. 

Any kinks?Yes. 

Who’s dominant in bed?They both can be, but in a lot of ways, Furia is the most dominant by which I mean that it is her preferences that often define what happens in bed even if it’s Johnny controlling the situation.

Is head ever in the equation?Yes. Quite regularly.

If so, who is better at performing it?Both of them. Though it is likely that Johnny’s performed it more since it happens almost every time there is foreplay. 

Ever had sex in public?No. Not yet. 

Who moans the most?Furia. Johnny is a bit more quiet in bed than she is.

Who leaves the most marks?She is also the most likely to leave bite marks, scratches, et al.

Who screams the loudest?Again, Furia.

Who is the more experienced of the two?Thinking on it. They are probably pretty equal here. Johnny’s had his fair share of lovers and so has Furia.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?Yes. When come right down to it, the choice it more about the moment and the desire fueling it. 

Rough or soft?Again, yes. Like the above, it is dependent on the moment and the situation. 

How long do they usually last?Furia would gladly go for hours depending on the type of sex. That’s not always feasible or in the schedule. And like any couple, they aren’t averse to a quickie here and there. But typically I’d say 30-45 minutes, with longer and shorter exchanges, of course.

Is protection used?Yes. They hadn’t moved past that point yet. And if they were to start up again, they would do so then as well. 

Does it ever get boring?They hadn’t really been together long enough to find that moment of boredom yet. But I’m sure that there is possibly a point where things might become a touch rote. Of course, both have had long term relationships and have some ideas for how to deal with those situations.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Hmm. I think that it’s possible that this might have been the throne of a conquered alien world. It was kind of a strange, frantic moment.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?Not at this time. Though the possibility has fluttered into Furia’s mind once or twice.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have?None.

Who is the favorite parent?Not applicable. Though in the case that if might happen, I think it’s likely that Johnny would be the favorite. Due to the answer to the next question.

Who is the authoritative parent?I think it most likely that Furia would be the more authoritative of the two. Though I could be wrong.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?Johnny.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?Both actually. 

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?Both. 

Who goes to parent teacher interviews?Furia. 

Who changes the diapers?Both, though Furia more often, I think.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?I really think this is a duty they would split. 

Who spends the most time with the children?Again I don’t think there would be a “most,” because I think they would both spend a great deal of time with their kids, if they had them.

Who packs their lunch boxes?Furia.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’?Furia.

Who cleans up after the kids?Furia.

Who worries the most?Johnny.

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?In English and Korean, Johnny. Spanish, Furia.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?Furia. Though Johnny enjoys having her close.

Who is the little spoon?Most often, it is Furia, but sometimes it ends up Johnny. And he’s more partial to it than he’ll probably admit to.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?Furia. She loves to touch him and sometimes it leads to more.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Furia. 

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?Furia could do it for days. Johnny is usually good for a while until his arm falls asleep, which given a decent position can be as long as an hour or two.

Who gives the most kisses?Furia.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?Furia would say dancing, even though she can’t get him to join her on the floor that often. Johnny would say anything involving a little mayhem. 

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?Furia … everywhere. For Johnny the best place for cuddling is bed.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? I’m not sure either of them do this. Furia is not particularly forgiving of this kind of behavior. She put up with it when she tended bar, but did not stomach it once she joined the Saints. 

How often do they get time to themselves?Quite regularly. They aren’t together 24-7, so they get alone time for themselves, but they also take time out to do their own thing from time to time. It’s just the nature of being a human in a relationship, they aren’t joined at the hip.

Sleeping:

Who snores?Johnny, I think. At least, he seems the most likely of the two. 

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?When they were in a relationship, they shared a bed. 

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?And they tend to cozy up.

Who talks in their sleep?Furia. Though not often.

What do they wear to bed?Nothing.

Are either of your muses insomniacs?Furia does have sleep trouble, both falling asleep and staying asleep.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?No.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?They are wrap each other up people.

Who wakes up with bed hair?Johnny’s is usually more out of control than Furia’s, because hers is longer.

Who wakes up first?Furia. 

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?Furia.

What is their favourite sleeping position?Furia likes being draped over Johnny’s chest. Johnny prefers to lay on his side, cuddling with her when she’s in his bed. 

Who hogs the sheets?Johnny.

Do they set an alarm each night?No.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?No.

Who has nightmares?Both of them. 

Who has ridiculous dreams?Furia.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Furia.

Who makes the bed? Both of them, Johnny most of the time.

What time is bed time? Late, late at night.

Any routines/rituals before bed?General nighttime hygiene–brushing hair, teeth, etc. Sometimes a warm bath, for Furia.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?Furia, at least before coffee.

Work:

Who is the busiest?Furia, probably. Though they are both quite busy with the tasks of their positions, which intersect. 

Who rakes in the highest income?Technically Furia, because her share is larger. 

Are any of your muses unemployed?No. 

Who takes the most sick days?I don’t really think this is likely either of them. It doesn’t seem like something they would ever do.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?Neither.

Who sucks up to their boss?Literally, Johnny. Technically.

What are their jobs?Furia is the head of the Inter-Galactic Alliance.

Who stresses the most?Furia. By far.

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?Most of the time. There are times when the change in Furia’s profession takes a bit of a toll on her, but that seems to be most due to the stress involved. 

Are your muses financially stable? Yes.

Home:

Who does the washing?At the time they were together, neither of them. Furia employs people that handle that. 

Who takes out the trash?See above answer.

Who does the ironing?See above.

Who does the cooking?For the most part, see above. Though Furia still loves to cook it centers her mind in a way few things can anymore.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?Neither. Johnny is actually pretty handy in the kitchen.

Who is messier? Overall, I think Furia is the messier of the two, though they are both pretty neat. Johnny I think is far more ordered than Furia is.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?This is an interesting question. And I’m not sure. I know Furia would change it … again her upbringing kind of drummed that into her.

I think it might be Johnny. 

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?They’ve both been known to strip and just leave their clothes wherever they landed, but both of them prefer a clean/ordered space so they are likely to pick it up the next morning. 

Who forgets to flush the toilet?Neither. Furia grew up in a house with 9 people in it. And Johnny doesn’t because Aisha did not put up with that nonsense.

Who is the prankster around the house?Oh I think they would both vie for this title.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?Johnny is the most likely to lose the keys. For Furia keys are often an afterthought.

Who mows the lawn?Outsourced

Who answers the telephone?They each answer their own cellphones, and Zinjai (and sometimes CID) answers Furia’s other lines

Who does the vacuuming?Outsourced

Who does the groceries?Outsourced.

Who takes the longest to shower?Furia. More hair to wash, along with other grooming options.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?Johnny. That hair doesn’t come naturally.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?No.

How many cars do they own?Furia has always kept cars. Though she has far fewer now--both in Bossville and back in her universe.

Do they own their home or do they rent?Technically, own.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?She lives in the capitol of Zin which is a port--air, sea, and space.

Do they live in the city or in the country? The city. Furia is not a country girl by any stretch of the imagination.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?Yes. She loves the city, prefers it really.

What’s their song?Furia would jokingly say it was Danger Zone. Johnny would disagree and retaliate with a suggestion like Black Magic Woman.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?Johnny tends to worry because he knows that more than likely she is getting herself into some kind of trouble. Of course, she tends to think the same thing. But they just kind of ... do their own thing. They aren’t together all the time, but I think  they do pine for one another, I know they do.

Where did they first meet?The graveyard in Stilwater. 

How did they first meet?She showed up at Julius’ invitation.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?Furia.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?Furia.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?Johnny.

Any mental issues?Maybe a bit of PTSD and some depression. A little anxiety.

Who’s terrified of bugs?Neither. Though Furia’s not really a fan.

Who kills the spiders around the house?Johnny, because she asks.

Their favourite place?Together? All sorts of places ... gun range, the gym, she’ll drag him out dancing. 

Who pays the bills?Neither. 

Do they have any fears for their future?Furia always fears losing people. Even if she can’t do a damn thing to stop it. Johnny I think worries about the same thing ... perhaps also that he won’t be able to stop something from happening to her. And I think they both worry about hurting one another.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?Furia. 

Who uses up all of the hot water? Furia.

Who’s the tallest?Johnny, by about 7 inches or so.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?Oh I think they are both equally as likely to do this. Both using the same excuse--it’ll save water.

Who wanders around in their underwear?Furia. On purpose, just to get his attention. Though Johnny’s not above a little strutting in his skivvies.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?Furia (and Pierce).

What do they tease each other about?Johnny always goes after her over her fighting prowess. Even though they are about even in terms of wins/losses. She teases him about his hair--how long it takes him to get his hair perfect.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?I’m not sure either of them would do this. The pair of them are both pretty stylish. Though Furia’s more adventurous in her choices sometimes. 

Do they have mutual friends?Yes. Most of their friends are mutual ones.

Who crushed first? Oh, good question. I really think it might have to have been Furia. Though Johnny always “appreciated” her.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?No. 

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?Both of them. Probably from out drinking together and getting into a bar fight if they’re lucky. 

Who swears the most?In Spanish, Furia. In Korean, Johnny. In English, it’s a toss up.

[edsmysterygirl]

Ed Sheeran - Part 1

Wembley, June 15 & Amsterdam, June 28

As many of you know, I was fortunate enough to see Ed twice during this Divide World Tour.

Click here for Part 2. Click here for Part 3.

It all began almost a year ago. On July 8, 2017, tickets went on sale for both shows. I put my boyfriend — who lives close to London — on Wembley duty, and I bought the Amsterdam tickets myself. I went for seats in the sections closer to the middle of the stadium. I figured you wouldn’t be as close as when you picked the sections to the side of the stage, but I wanted to be able to experience the screens properly and from a good angle. We ended up sitting where the red cross is for Wembley (section 122, row 25):

And we ended up sitting here in Amsterdam (section 121, row 2):

I think it’s really cool that I got to experience the show from both sides! I went to see Ed with my boyfriend at Wembley and with a friend from my previous job in Amsterdam.

Click on the Keep Reading link below for more! :-) Please keep in mind that I was quite far away and don’t really have the proper recording devices. And to be honest, I just wanted to enjoy the show and not live it through a camera/phone. So there’s only a couple of my own (bad quality) pictures and short videos in this post, but I just really wanted to share my experience!

Wembley, June 15 We arrived in London around noon. First, we went to have lunch at our favorite Byron Proper Hamburgers restaurant located on The Cut. Around 1pm we travelled up to our hotel, which was a Premier Inn hotel near Wembley. We arrived there at 2pm, checked in and sat in our room for a while. The room was clean, spacious and at the hotel they even had printed out explanations ready of how to get to Wembley. So no complaints there! We arrived at Wembley around 4 pm:

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

Before entering the premises, they checked your ticket. However, the Wembley tickets had no names on them, and they didn’t ask about any of the resale-related stuff either. We went to our designated entrance and sat around on the floor for a bit. I guess you are supposed to queue at the turnstiles, but because it was so quiet still and because we had seats anyway we didn’t start queuing until 4:45pm. The turnstiles opened at 5pm and we went in and had our bags checked. Again, no resale check here... It’s a bit strange to me how there were all these strict rules and all these documents you needed to bring, but in the end the tickets had no names on them, my booking confirmation didn’t even have a card number on it and no one asked anything. From what I understand someone went around some of the queues, but we didn’t see anyone. If you put such a strict system in place, please enforce it. After we went in we had some pizza and a drink. Even though the food was very expensive (as expected), I was really surprised about the quality. That was some good pizza!

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

First up was Jamie! I really enjoyed his set and his energy. He’s such a lovely guy. He even went out to the merch stand on the pitch to meet fans at the end of his set. The only thing I have to say is that the sound quality wasn’t great for his set. I don’t know if he uses a different mic, or if the band uses different instruments, or if it’s because people are rude and half the stadium is empty during the gig, but it’s very hard to hear him because of the echo. The sound levels seem fine, his voice is loud enough compared to the band, but it’s so hard to understand a word of what he’s singing/saying. I thought that was such a shame because he’s such a good performer and his songs are great! Below a video of the sing-along part of (I think) the last song of his set, Ahead of Myself:

© edsmysterygirl/dailymotion

Then came Anne-Marie! It was only during her set that I realized where I was and what I was doing there: it was almost time for Ed!!! But first it was time to enjoy Anne-Marie. 

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

I’ve listened quite a lot to her album recently and Ciao Adios and Friends are played regularly on the radio over here so I knew all her songs. I was quietly singing along at this point, still a bit unsure... But I was really enjoying myself so far.

© edsmysterygirl/dailymotion

Now it was finally time for Ed... But first it was time for a break. And time for a toilet break. Apparently more people had the same idea. The queue was soooo long. I was so worried I wouldn’t make it back in time. But I did!!

It was surreal to see him walk on stage. He. Was. Actually. There. RIGHT. THERE. He played the standard setlist he’s been playing lately. First of course, Castle on the Hill. He was SO smiley. And the crowd went wild. Everyone got up when he came on and no one ever sat down again. 

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

Then was Eraser. Even though Castle on The Hill does have some elements of layering, I feel like the layering towards the end of Eraser was the first time I properly experienced the loop station live. When you listen to live recordings you can make out every single loop fragment if you listen closely, but there is no such thing when you’re there live. It all just blends together into one big ball of awesomeness. Here’s the start of Eraser:

© edsmysterygirl/dailymotion

Next was The A Team. It was incredibly to finally hear that song live after hearing it for so many years on the radio. Because yes, in the Netherlands The A Team still gets regular radio play for some reason. Not that I mind! Not at all! After watching Glastonbury I was expecting a sea of lights during this song. But for some reason, Wembley missed the memo. 😂 I guess it also was because it was still so light out!

I don’t know when exactly the speeches were. But I think it was before Don’t/New Man that he told the story about how much of a boring concertgoer he is because he tends to not move much. And that it’s okay to sing and dance and go nuts and that you don’t have to be embarrassed because everyone is looking at him anyway. And if someone is looking at you, they might just join in because they see you having a good time. And I’m SO glad he told that story. Because, even though I have heard it about a dozen times online, actually being there and feeling a bit awkward and not sure, hearing that? It’s amazing and it’s what allowed me to relax and finally get into the show. :-) Don’t/New Man is the only complete recording I have, so enjoy:

© edsmysterygirl/dailymotion

Next was Dive, but not before we participated in the who’s-the-loudest-crowd competition. I don’t think we broke any records, but IT WAS LOUD. Dive was absolutely amazing. I know a few people are disappointed Dive was never brought out as a single, but I think it makes it extra special. It’s amazing to see it live and hear the whole crowd singing along. I think Dive is a song that works best like that, and not necessarily as a radio single.

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

And then Bloodstream!!! Holy shit. The bounce thing. I always assumed it was kinda awkward to do. But it wasn’t at all. And it was so cool to see the whole pitch doing it in front of us. And don’t get me started on the ending! The “all the voices in my mind” part is hypnotizing. Absolutely amazing. You can just FEEL the music in your body.

© edsmysterygirl/Tumblr

Happier was up next. It’s such a beautiful song. You know what’s funny? The first time Ed sings “you’re happier,” you can hear the audience echo back “aren’t you?” even though that line is not supposed to be there. But we’re so used to singing it in the rest of the song that apparently we automatically do it the first time! Lol. Here’s the start of Happier:

© edsmysterygirl/dailymotion

Unfortunately, Tumblr only allows 5 videos per post, sooo...

Click here for Part 2. Click here for Part 3.

[tb5-heavenward]

Harvard!Christmas - 2

Continuing on from here. Harvard!John + Christmas + A Kitten

It takes an hour.

It takes an hour of patience and hope and careful, deliberate ministration to a feeble, shivering little body---but it works.

And by the end of this hour and because he's had no one else to talk to, the cat is the only other entity in the whole entire world who knows that John Tracy is a drug addict who hates his life and resents his father and misses his family, and who occasionally plunges into a state of depression so deep and dark and hopeless that he's not sure if he'll actually survive it---but it's also alive and slowly rallying, with tiny little mews and meows and an apparent desire to remove itself from John's lap and go bumbling around his apartment.

And even if he is a drug addict who hates his life and resents his father and misses his family and occasionally considers wandering into heavy traffic, John has managed to save a tiny little life that would've been lost if he hadn't brought himself back to Boston. If he'd been even five minutes later than he had, if he hadn't happened to take a shortcut through the alley behind his building---it's a tiny, minuscule difference to make in the world, but he's still made it. And in spite of everything, John feels a bit better.

So that's something, anyway.

"Good job," he murmurs, and gently discourages the kitten from clambering its way out of the little nest he's made, with the bath towel still across his lap where he sits cross-legged beside the radiator. Its movements are still stiff and feeble, and it doesn't make much upward progress before John scoops it up and carefully lifts it to eye level, to get a better look at its watery eyes and smudged face. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

He gets the loudest meow yet in answer, though this is still a high-pitched, scratchy sort of sound, and probably mostly in protest to being picked up and peered at.

It's well past midnight now, though John hasn't actually looked at the time, and he's missed the transition. His phone is in his coat pocket, and he's still resolutely pretending that that he'd just been so worn out from all the travel that he'd just gone to bed and forgotten to turn it back on. He'll get to it in the morning. By morning he should be braced to deal with the onslaught of disappointment, whatever his family will have had to say about the fact that he'd just up and left without a word to anyone but his father.

At least he has a cat. John's always been fond of cats. He can already tell he's starting to get fond of this one, which doesn't bode well if he wants to continue to abide by the terms of his lease. He's dangerously close to considering himself the owner of this cat.

"We never had cats, growing up. Scott's allergic," John informs the kitten, carefully adjusting his grip on the little animal as he starts to get to his feet, stretching and twisting his hips as he stands, straightens. His tailbone's gotten numb and sore from sitting on the hardwood, and the side of his body that had been closer to the radiator feels a little bit toasted. "We had a dog, but he hated me. There were barncats at the farmhouse, but they were all halfway feral, and we weren't supposed to pet them."

Not, crucially, that this had ever stopped John or the rest of his brothers (minus Scott) from petting the barn cats, not even after the one summer when Gordon got fleas.

Housecats are a different story, and while John's aware of this, though it's gotten very late and he's starting to get hazy. He's got a full twelve hours of travel behind him, and it's a solid four of those since he'd last taken a pill. It's a mark of the comedown that John's mind starts to wander, the lens of his usual laser focus starts to fracture at the edges, distorting the beam. He's mentally running through a list of the things that are essential to the cat's continued survival, and he comes up with water, food, and a litter box.

The first item he can manage. The latter two are going to need to be improvised.

"C'mon, cat," he says, and nestles the little creature in the crook of his arm. The kitchen is his first stop, though he's already aware that he probably won't find much. He wasn't supposed to be here for Christmas, after all, and it's not like he keeps a great deal of food on hand in any case. The fridge offers nothing but a collection of aging takeout containers that he doesn't especially feel like dealing with, but near the back of his pantry he finds a couple small, dusty cans of tuna, sharing the shelf with a jar of peanut butter and a few cans of soup. He scrutinizes the dates on the labels and finds them within acceptable limits.

He's draped the bathtowel over his shoulder, and he gathers up one of the only three bowls in the kitchen, both cans of tuna. The next stop is the bathroom. The bathtowel is nestled into in the bathtub and the kitten is gently placed in the middle of this. John fills the bowl with lukewarm tap water and puts it down at the other end of the tub. There's a pull tab on the top of the tuna can, and when he pulls this off, the kitten reacts to the sound with something like excitement, struggling its way out of the little nest and limping over to the open tin. In a few moments it's buried its face in the can and can't seem to help making tiny little noises as it devours the contents.

Signs point to the fact that the cat is familiar with the trappings of domestication, but John's pretending that he doesn't appreciate the significance of the fact. He disregards the implication as he comments, "Oh good, you know about food. If that'll hold you for a few minutes, I'll be right back."

The plan for a litterbox involves a trek down to the front lobby again, to steal a few pounds of coarse sand from the bucket that sits out front of the building, meant to be scattered on the front walk and the steps up to the lobby for traction on the ice. There's no one around to catch him at it, considering it's the very earliest hours of Christmas morning, but he's still nervous enough that he takes the stairs instead of the elevator to minimize his chances of running into anyone. This makes him regret the fact that he lives on the fourth floor, but he makes it back all the same, and feels better once he's back in his apartment, with a few pounds of stolen sand in a paper bag to show for his efforts.

The search through the kitchen for food had turned up an old aluminum foil lasagna pan, which he'd found under his sink when he'd first moved in. He'd had no use for it, couldn't even be bothered to make the trip to the trash chute at the end of the hallway to throw it away, and now it turns out that it's going to be useful. The sand he's collected is still icy cold to the touch, so he deposits it in the pan and then leaves it by the radiator to dry out and warm up. He returns to the bathroom to find his bathtub emptied of both tuna fish and kitten, and spends a few mildly frantic moments taking his entire bathroom apart, before locating the animal in the space behind the toilet and beside the sink. John is six feet, two inches tall, and his bathroom is the bathroom of a small, modest one bedroom apartment. It takes some contortion to get down and extract the cat. When he pulls the little creature out, there's another disproportionately loud meow, a drawn-out and high-pitched whine of protest.

This is met with very little sympathy.

"Well, if you don't like it, then maybe don't scare me like that."

This just gets him yelled at again, as he lets the cat clamber across his lap. It seems like a much sturdier creature now, warmed up and fed and watered, with the moisture dried out of its fur and the life coming back to its limbs. It's skinny, but not as underfed as he'd first taken it to be. It starts to purr as he pets and plays with it, and presses its head into his palm as it passes beneath his hands, obviously soliciting affection.

John's still actively refusing to come to the obvious conclusion that the animal belongs to anybody else. It's not like he's in a position to do anything about it yet, anyway. It's the middle of the night and even with the kitten for a distraction, he's still running on fumes.

"I need to go to bed," he tells the cat. "What're you gonna do, if I try and go to bed?"

The answer to this question---though John makes a genuine attempt to settle the cat back down in the bathtub with its newly thawed out litterbox, its big fluffy towel and its water bowl and another can of tuna, summarily devoured---turns out to be a great deal of piteous mewling and scratching and carrying on from the other side of the bathroom door. John holds out for all of half a minute before he relocates the cat and all its associated accessories to his bedroom, and closes the door.

John's apartment is a Boston brownstone, and the bedroom is really the only place where he's made much of an investment in anything like the comforts of a home, mostly manifested in the form of extra blankets across the end of his bed. There's a laundry basket on the floor of the closet, and this is where he deposits his clothing, dark slacks and a polo shirt and a cashmere sweater, all the trappings of a respectable traveler. He could've done with a shower to wash away the long day of travel, but his bathroom had been otherwise occupied, and it can wait until tomorrow. He changes into a pair of blue flannel pajama pants, fishes a grey henley out of his top drawer and pulls it on. He's cold in the way he always seems to be, before getting into bed, and gets colder still when he's required to get down on the drafty floor in order to extract the cat from the underside of his bed.

It's probably an exercise in futility, probably as soon as he's asleep the cat will be back up and exploring his bedroom---but he deposits the animal on top of the bed anyway, pulling back the duvet and climbing beneath the blankets himself. The cat explores the peaks and valleys created by his limbs beneath the blankets, as John permits himself a sigh and a weary groan, sinking back against feather pillows with his eyes closed. "This morning's going to be bad," he declares, though he's too tired to do much more than be aware of the fact. He can't quite muster the energy to care. On impulse, he lifts a hand, rubs his fingers together. The sound draws the kitten's attention, and moments later there's a fuzzy little skull butting up against his palm, the purring started up once again. "When I turn my phone on again, I'm pretty sure it might actually blow up."

He hasn't even brought it into the bedroom, and he's certainly not about to get up and go get it. Getting in bed at the end of the day, these days, is like hitting some sort of master override. His entire body starts to enter a state of automatic shutdown from the moment his head hits the pillow, and there's not much use in fighting it. The next to last burst of effort John can summon goes towards turning off the bedside light, and curling up beneath the blankets.

He's dimly aware that the cat's curled up too, because he can hear it, purring loudly in the dark beside him. He reaches out to rest the palm of his hand against the curve of the kitten's spine, and the warmth and the softness of its fur against his skin is the last thing he's aware of, before drifting into a dreamless sleep. He means to say good night, but doesn't quite remember.

[o0o-chibaken-o0o]

The Savior Gets Drunk

A drabble written to prove to @l0vegl0wsinthedark that Harry Potter could indeed stand on a table and boast about being The Savior while still being in character. It turned out twenty times more ridiculous than planned, and I hope it makes you laugh! Cheers! :)

Harry Potter hates it when people call him “The Savior.” 

He hates it with a passion rivaled only by his distaste for random strangers who take his picture when he is acting like a dickhead, which is unfortunately the case right this very moment.

He and his friends and Draco’s friends are all out for a drink at the Leaky, as is typical for a Friday night. Perhaps not-so-typical is the ridiculous volume of alcohol Harry has ingested, but they are celebrating Ron’s recent promotion to Deputy Head Auror, so he figures that makes for a worthy enough excuse.

Draco hadn’t been drinking as much as Harry, but he was clearly far from sober himself because he’d knocked his glass of champagne over onto his lap, which is definitely not something a sober Draco Malfoy would have done.

Even the drunk one had taken it very poorly.

“FUCK! Merlin fucking– DO NOT LOOK OVER HERE. THERE IS NOTHING TO SEE. PLEASE CONTINUE YOUR RIDICULOUS CONVERSATIONS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TABLE, THANK YOU.”

Harry had unfortunately chosen this moment to be overcome with a fit of giggles, but had still somehow found the presence of mind and coordination to locate a napkin and begin wiping off his boyfriend’s soaked crotch. And mmm, was that the beginnings of a erect–

“Potter,” Draco had hissed, “what the bloody hell do you think you are doing?!”

“’M wipin’ you off, love!”

“Potter!”

“Malfoy!!!” Harry’s giggles had returned, or perhaps they had never stopped.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning myself off with a fucking cleaning spell like a proper wizard. Now get that grimy napkin off of my cock and go save somebody else with your moronic bumbling!”

Draco is really cute when he gets all flustered and insulting. His cheeks turn all blotchy and pink and instead of narrowing like they do when he’s truly angry, his eyes seem to become wider. “But nobody else needs saving right now, love. Just you! Gotta save you!”

“From bloody what?”

“From the wine, Draco! Gotta save you from the wine ’f course!” Quite suddenly, every instance of someone calling Harry “The Savior” had flashed through his head in the way that sometimes happens when he gets drunk. And there Harry had been, insisting that he had to save someone. From some spilled wine. 

“Hehehehehe.”

Harry’s chuckling had started out low as he had imagined what all those random people would think of their Savior now if only they could see the kind of work to which he’d been reduced. Keeping Draco Malfoy’s arse—no, his cock—safe from a moist and possibly devastating fate. His laughter had increased to guffaws by the time he began imagining Draco’s cock with a little face and a long blonde wig, thanking him in a girlish voice for his daring rescue and swaying around as it swooned over his brave heroics.

At some point he must have begun repeating all of these thoughts out loud for the benefit of his audience, because before he knew it he had ended up here, standing on a table at the Leaky, brandishing his wand, and having just declared in what must have been the loudest voice he could muster that “I AM HARRY POTTER, THE SAVIOR! BE YOU IN NEED OF NAPKIN OR TISSUE, TOILET PAPER OR TOWEL, NEVER FEAR! I, THE GREAT HARRY POTTER, SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD, PROMISE TO ALWAYS RESCUE YOU AND YOUR SODDEN GENITALIA FROM WHATEVER FIEND DARES TO HYDRATE IT!”

Silence had rung out for all of three seconds before the strangers had started taking pictures of Harry acting like a complete dickhead, but it had only taken one of those for Harry to realize what he had just done and lock eyes with his crimson-faced boyfriend.

Now they are still staring at each other, and Harry is desperately afraid that he is about to get the biggest telling-off of his entire life for acting like such an absolute prat, and why is Harry still holding up his wand, he’s practically begging to be photographed, and what if Draco breaks up with him for yelling about his cock in a wig, and—

Draco finally opens his mouth to speak. “Really, Potter. You don’t hydrate genitalia, you absolute moron.”

“Pffft—”

“Oh my GOD—”

“Did you see when he—”

“A wig!”

Harry’s group of arseholes (they’re certainly not his friends) clearly take Draco’s statement as permission to begin ruthlessly taking the piss out of him, but Harry chooses to ignore this as much as possible in favor of hastily clambering off the table and retaking his place next to Draco.

He can’t believe he’s just done that.

“I can’t believe you’ve just done that,” Draco says.

Harry is silent.

“You hate it when people call you ‘The Savior.’”

Maybe if he pretends hard enough, it will have never happened.

“You know, I was almost really mad at you for a bit there.” 

Harry inhales. 

“But then I decided it would be so much more satisfying to make fun of you for the rest of our lives instead.” Draco is less red now, and is sporting a massive shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off,” Harry grumbles and begins gathering his things so that he can get out of this bloody bar as quickly as humanly possible.

“Oh, come on. You deserve it after that little performance. That was honestly ten times better than anything I ever came up with to make fun of you in school. I think I’m a little jealous.”

“Fuck off!” Harry says again, grabbing Draco’s wrist and pulling them through the crowd of people attempting to accost him. He’s going to go home, go to sleep, and forget this ever happened.

“To think all I had to do was give you a bit of champagne and you’d have mocked yourself for me!”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.”

Harry Potter hates being called “The Savior” and he hates being photographed while acting like a dickhead. 

But... he doesn’t hate his boyfriend. His boyfriend who is not mad at him, and definitely not breaking up with him. And he doesn’t hate his friends, who are all just having a good time (albeit at Harry’s expense). So even though he’s just dug himself into what is possibly the most embarrassing hole of his entire life, as he exits the pub and allows his boyfriend to twine their fingers together, Harry Potter thinks of Draco Malfoy’s cock in a long blonde wig. 

And he smiles.