#maybe it's because this time last year (September 18th is the day) is the day I was broken up with by my ex

[sxldierselfship]

I don't know what's been up with me lately (as in, the last two or three days), but all I seem to want to do is hold him so close and keep him in my arms. It makes me wonder if all of the guys are touch-starved to some degree, and if my sweetheart is, then I clearly have to fix it.. I just feel this incredible need in me to have him in my arms whenever it's possible, and I'm not quite sure why 🥺

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hello, Could you write about Reader being terrified of coming out as a lesbian and it is giving her so much anxiety. Renee helps her

It's just angst-hurt/comfort-fluff ?

Love you work XOXO

🧡💜

You Call At 3am, I'm Picking Up

|| Reneé Rapp x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, reader struggling with sexuality, reader and renee are friends, anxiety

|| Summary; Reneé and reader have been friends for years. Reader's struggling with her sexuality and Reneé helps her out.

Requests open!

Started; September 18th

Finished; September 18th

~~~

Reneé had woken up at 3am to a call from you. She had a separate ringtone just for you, so she could easily recognize when it was you calling versus someone else.

With a tired groan, the blonde reached for her phone and picked it up, answering your call." Hi, baby." Her tone was low, little raspy from sleep.

"I'm gay." You practically blurted it out between sobs and it took her a moment to register what was actually happening. She quickly sat up, holding her phone to her ear," Reneé, I'm gay and I don't know what else to do-"

"Okay, okay. Shh, baby. Deep breaths." She waited as she listened to make sure you were taking breaths," I'm proud of you for coming out. That's amazing and we can totally celebrate later if that's something you're down for- but right now we can just talk. Or you can talk and I can listen."

You took deep breaths, listening to Reneé's voice as she rambled. The idea of celebrating with her later was nice... but you were still freaking out. You'd been up all night having anxiety attacks over this until you finally called Reneé. Who was one of the only gay people you personally knew.

"I... I'm scared, Neé. This changes everything- I- God. Fuck." You groaned, leaning back on your bed. You couldn't get your words together you were so exhausted. But at the same time you couldn't sleep. Sleep- shit. You just realized you probably woke Reneé up," God, I'm sorry- I woke you, didn't I?"

"You did. But it's okay. Especially when it's for a call like this. Want me to come over?"

"Yes please." You breathed out a sigh of relief. Glad that Reneé wasn't upset with you for waking her and glad that she was coming over to help you. She was an incredible friend and you don't know what you would do without her most days.

It didn't take long before you heard a knock at your door and went over to open it, finding Reneé standing there with a box of chocolates and your favourite ice cream.

"Wasn't sure if this would be a chocolate situation or an ice cream, so I bought both." She handed them to you and you gave her a soft a smile. Taking the sweets from her.

"Thanks, Neé." You moved out of the way so she could get inside and headed to your kitchen. You put one of your treats away (you can decide which one) and kept the other. Walking back over to Reneé who sat on the couch, watching you closely.

"What do you need from me? Advice? Comfort? Someone to listen?" She asked, she wanted this to be all about you. It was a big moment.

You thought about it and then looked into her eyes as you took a bite from your treat," maybe all three?"

She nodded and rested her arm to the back of the couch as she faced you fully, listening to your every word.

"I just... lately I've really started notice that I feel different around girls. Like, how I'm supposed to feel for guys but I don't feel that way at all for them and it was just really confusing. I've been up the last week or so just nonstop thinking about it and then finally just decided to call you because I really don't know what else to do." You rambled out, she sat and listened.

That explained why you looked so tired to her all week, Reneé didn't realize how poorly you'd been sleeping and that worried her.

"It can feel that way." Reneé nodded," if you're certain you're gay then you're gay, that's okay, Y/N. And if anyone tells you otherwise you send them to me."

You laughed a little at that last bit and nodded, yeah. You'd be safe with Reneé backing you up.

"Thank you, seriously. You're... amazing." Reneé didn't miss the dreaminess in your tone and bit back a smirk. She had a good feeling about what that meant and how you felt towards her, but she stayed quiet on that. Wanting you to come to terms with it first because you probably didn't even fully realize at this point.

"Of course, baby. How do you want this to go? Do you want people to know?" She asked.

"I don't think I do... at least, not yet. I want to get a little more comfortable with it first."

She gave your hand a small squeeze," sounds perfect. You don't ever have to come out if that's not something you want, either. But should you decide to... I'll be there every step of the way."

The rest of your night was spent relaxing with each other, eating snacks, watching movies. Until about 5am when you both fell asleep against each other on the couch. And that was the best sleep you'd had in a long time.

[scoobydoodean]

A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday

~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending

Dean never says anything about his birthday.

Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.

He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).

Right. It all makes sense.

So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.

He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.

The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.

He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.

Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.

Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.

Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.

42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.

Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.

Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.

As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.

Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.

Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.

Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.

Just add milk and eggs.

Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.

When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.

"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.

Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.

Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop

"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.

"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."

Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.

Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"

"Uhh..."

"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."

"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."

It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."

Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."

Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.

Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"

"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"

"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.

"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."

Dean glowers.

Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."

Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."

"Uh...?"

"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."

Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."

Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"

"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.

Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."

Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.

"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"

Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."

Dean stares at him.

Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."

"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.

Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.

Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.

"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."

"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.

"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."

Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean gives him a look.

Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."

Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.

They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.

They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.

"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.

Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.

Dean: Just checking in.

Cas replies about 20 minutes later.

Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.

However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.

Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.

At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.

Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.

He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.

He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.

Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"

Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.

Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.

His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.

Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"

"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.

"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.

"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.

"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.

A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.

"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.

"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."

Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.

"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.

Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.

He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.

"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."

"You deserve it."

[wrathofresistantx]

Bastian Bosse’s LiveJournal Activity (Part One)

On September 2nd, 2004, Bastian Bosse created his LiveJournal account. He posted to this account between September 2004 and August 2005, with his first entry being on September 2nd, 2004, and his last being on August 15th, 2005.

He posted his first entry on September 2nd, writing:

“So first, I have to try out how this works ...”

His entries during this time were about his airsoft guns and problems he was having at school, with him writing on September 8th:

“Well first of all, I got to class late, and they wrote me up. That’s especially good, when it happens on the first class with a new teacher! Well, it was only Religion ... the subject where they tell you such garbage that you like to go to class because it is so funny ... Our new topic: (for the third time) “Satanism / Occultism.” Oh man!

Then I rushed home after school and had to find out that my mom snooped around my stuff again a little ... Well, maybe they are just worried ...”

On March 7th 2005, he began posting again on his LiveJournal account, which he hadn’t posted to since September 15th, 2004. His post on this day mentioned being teased by his classmates, as he wrote:

“Other than that, really nothing spectacular happened during the week. I had to listen to the usual crap, like “Hey look! There is the Matrix-Man!” Looooooool, nitwits!”

On April 3rd, he wrote about ordering an MP5-SD6 airsoft machine gun online and not receiving the money on time:

“Then I ordered an MP5-SD6 AEG during break and told them that I would transfer the money on April 2nd . .. and what’s happening? The guy who is supposed to buy my old G36c is not coming, and now I don’t have the money .. . great!”

On May 15th, he wrote two entries, with one talking about his attitude to life:

“The longer I think about life, the more I realize how senseless it actually is ... Somebody is born, has a good life for 6 years, but then gets enrolled in school. Then unconsciously, he has to make a decision; do I stay the way I am or do I conform to the others? To be more precise, do I remain strong or do I become my own traitor?”

And the other mentioned a girl called Nadine:

“There is no progress with Nadine . . . I blame this sick HipHop Music that all the kids listen to . . . you have to go crazy and only talk shit. I HATE EVERYTHING!!! What’s up with all that shit??? Did I come to this damn world to be the idiot next door, my whole life? What should I do here? What are all of us supposed to do here?”

He wrote on May 16th:

“I am thinking about just dropping out of school next year, so I don’t have to see their faces anymore, so I don’t have to hear their voices anymore. No idea, if I should do that . . .”

He also responded to an online friend of his that commented:

“is it really that bad at your school? mhm, yeah, I was also glad when I was allowed to leave...”

“Indirectly. The fact that I am older than those in my class makes things significantly easier, in other words, it is not like it was in my old class, in which I was humiliated. But those people are all such complete morons; either over the top clowns or blowhard potheads, who consider themselves the greatest.”

His entries throughout May discussed his growing collection of airsoft guns. However in this period he also bought a Colt pistol, which he was able to test on May 18th:

"Then I was finally able to test my Colt, was a little lame, but nice ;) Other than that, nothing happened."

On May 23rd he wrote:

“Tomorrow is the 24th, Tuesday .. . and what will happen? NOTHING!!! I hate it, I hate to always be everybody’s dimwit. I hate to always be portrayed as a dork. I hate to always be the individual who seems unnecessary, but I hate it even more when people try to betray me . .. LH !!! Who do you think you are? What do you think you can get away with? Who gives you the right to breathe my air?”

“I am done with the world, I feel outcasted by it and hope for change. But how do we define such change? Or even more important: What am I doing here?”

His entries from this point forward would become a lot longer and discussed his thoughts on life, his guns, and his views on people at his school.

[End of Part One]

I'm doing this in two parts, otherwise this post would get stupidly long and a bit boring, both for me to write and for everyone else to read.

[fimproda]

Nessian as Peraltiago - yet again

Day Four: Lover ⚔︎ Cassian has had many opportunities for love across Prythian — who do you ship him with? Nesta? Azriel? Eris? Lucien? Any and all ships are welcome!

I did it for @cassianappreciationweek last year and then for Nessian week, also last year. I'm gonna do it again. Both times. No regrets.

(My brain is so fried, I'd posted this yesterday. For day three. Lord, I'm dumb.)

Here are some wholesome Peraltiago moments from Brooklyn 99 that make me think of Cassian and Nesta, because everyone should ship Nessian and you shouldn't trust people who don't.

(I'm joking. Maybe.)

Stay tuned for a companion post to this that will magically appear on my blog on September 18th, just in time for Nessian Week, Day 4.

And please, please, somebody come take this Nessian B99 AU out of my head 😭

[the-werdna]

Title: Robcina Week Day 6 - School

Description: Another day at school comes. After solving the misunderstanding he'd had with Lucina, Robin is hopeful that today can pass uneventfully. That isn't too much to ask, right?

Notes: Takes place after all of the other Persona Au chapters, those being chapters 41, 47, 61, 64, 68, 74, and 79. Takes place the day after the events of chapter 75

Words: 2051

The buzzing rumble of his phone sounded as it vibrated against the table, stirring him from his slumber an instant before the shrill ringing of the alarm sounded. Dragging himself out of his futon, Robin scrambled for the device. Today was the rare occasion where he managed to seize it on his first try, swiping the screen to silence the chorus of beeps.

For a moment, he laid there, half on the floor, half still entangled in his covers. With a groan, Robin pushed himself into a sitting position before taking a look at his phone. Rubbing sensitive eyes from the brightened screen, his vision began to clear.

September 18th. Wednesday. It was time for school.

Heaving himself to his feet, Robin set about gathering his things, shoveling his books and other supplies into his bag. A quick shower later, he stopped by his room again to change into his uniform before heading downstairs. The lower level of the house was still and empty when he got there. No real surprise there. Chrom would be at work already, and Lucina got up early for kendo training before school. From the sounds of activity downstairs, he'd heard while getting ready, and the absence of Cynthia's bag now told him she must have only left a few minutes ago.

So much for waiting. Though I suppose I could still run into her or one of the others at the station, he mused. Yawning, he stopped by the fridge, picking up the boxed lunches he'd prepared the evening before, juggling his phone, schoolbag, and lunches at the same time, Robin checked the time while fumbling the slip boxes into the bag. Not much time left, gotta hurry to make the train. Toast will have to do for breakfast. Setting his phone down on the counter, he popped two slices into the toaster, managing to zip up his bag at the same time. A few moments later they popped out with a chime. He ate quickly, then hurried for the door, slamming it behind him. Then immediately ran back inside, snatching up his phone.

Okay, now I can go, Robin told himself. He paused, running through a quick mental checklist to make sure he didn't forget anything else. Satisfied, he headed back outdoors.

. . . . .

As packed as the train was, Robin saw neither Cynthia nor any of his other friends there. They must have all gotten on earlier trains. Shrugging, Robin decided he would try to continue reading the book he checked out from the library, provided he managed to find a seat.

The train arrived a few moments later, screeching as it came to a stop at the station. Robin hurried inside, managing to find an empty seat before the big rush as the other commuters jostled for places aboard. Reaching into his bag, he fished out the book: Expert Fishing. There was quite a bit left, it would probably take today and at least another train ride before he finished it. It should help make his fishing trips more effective, however. Which meant more fish he could then trade for gems with that weird cat that hangs out at the old shrine and then use those to buy-

Robin frowned. Do you ever stop and think to yourself, 'Wow, my life is weird'? Because I didn't until this year, he thought, directing the statement at no one in particular. Shaking his head, he resumed reading. Weird or not, it was a good use of his time. Maybe he'd try to finish the book that evening if he didn't find anything else to do then.

Minutes passed as he flipped through the pages

+ until at last, he arrived at his destination. Returning the book to his bag, he slung the strap over his shoulder. There was only a short wait before enough people ahead of him disembarked so that he could slip through the packed car and out onto the station. Then, he was off on the short walk to school.

. . . . .

Robin slipped his shoes into his cubby before bending down to put on his school shoes. Just as he finished he felt a buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He ignored it, continuing to do up the laces. Again his phone rumbled, signaling another notification. Then a few moments later, another rumble. Then a fourth. Sighing, Robin brought it out, opening up the screen.

Let's see… Cynthia wants to hang out after school… and so does Inigo… and Owain… and it looks like the photography club is holding an optional meeting today. He sighed and put the phone away. He could decide which to do later once school ended. So many Social Links, so little time.

Heading to the home room, he found the class already half-full, students mostly out of their seats in groups chatting with one another. Owain and Severa were already there as well, and, as was typical of them, bickering about something. He knew the pattern, Owain did something foolish or eccentric that annoyed Severa and then they'd argue about it. Had it been earlier in the day, Robin would have set in to mediate it, but it was frankly still way too early for him to care.

Taking his seat and willing himself not to register what they were going on about this time, Robin unpacked his school supplies.

Just as he finished, his phone buzzed once again. Momentarily annoyed and half considering just silencing the damn thing, Robin glanced at the screen, only to pause as he saw the sender. It was from Lucina.

"TO ROBIN. THANK YOU FOR SPEAKING TO ME YESTERDAY. I ENJOYED TALKING. LET'S DO IT AGAIN SOMETIME WHEN I AM NOT BUSY. Y/N?"

Robin found himself smiling as he always did at her odd manner of texting. It was cute. As for the message, of course, Wednesdays were one of the days Lucina was busy with Kendo practice after school, so that was a no-go. Besides, he had to still spend time with his other friends and continue to deepen those bonds.

"Sure, I'd love to. Next time you're free?", he texted back. He moved to slip his phone back into his pocket, only to stop, considering it for a moment, remembering the extra boxed lunch he'd brought today. When he'd cooked the extra meal last evening, he hadn't had anyone particular in mind for it. He figured he'd decide which of his friends to split it with later, maybe see if any of them hadn't brought anything. But now… maybe he should ask Lucina. That way they could spend some time together sooner. He certainly wanted to, but…

Would that seem too weird? He still didn't quite know how the two of them stood or how Lucina really felt about him. Was it too soon to make any move, or-

"Hey, what are you sitting there blushing about? Get a love letter from your crush or some other sappy nonsense?" Severa interjected, turning around in her chair to stare at him in almost incredulous amusement. Evidently, he had failed to notice her and Owain finishing their little morning spat.

Only then did Robin realize that he was indeed blushing. "No, it's- Just, mind your own business," he told her, his words doing nothing other than heightening her amusement. He hastily put his phone away, doing his best to brush aside her comment.

"Sure, whatever you say, Romeo," Severa grinned, rolling her eyes sarcastically at his own glare.

Mercifully it was then that their homeroom teacher entered, beginning the school day proper. It was rare that Robin was thankful to see the man, but right now he'd do anything to change the subject.

Let's just hope the rest of the day goes better. I could use it better. And normal.

. . . . .

The lunch bell rang, signaling the morning's end. Gathering things, Robin gazed at the two boxed lunches inside. He needed to decide who to have lunch with.

I could ask Lucina, but… He frowned, remembering the times they'd hung out yesterday and the day before. Things were less awkward yesterday, but… I still don't know if Lucina likes me that way or not. What if we are just friends? Would sharing a lunch be too romantic, or…

He shook his head, banishing the jumbled doubts and second guesses. He'd made lunches like this for most of his other friends before. This was no different than that. Making up his mind, he sent Lucina a text. Moments later his phone buzzed, Lucina agreeing to his offer to meet him.

Heading to the rooftop, Robin found Lucina already there. As it was a school day, not to mention the fact she tended to be a stickler for the rules, Lucina was wearing her Ylisstol High uniform in the standard, unmodified fashion. The only visible accessory was her trademark long red and blue scarf that she wore with nearly every outfit of hers.

Lucina peered around intently for several moments before her eyes laid upon him amongst the other students who'd taken their lunch there. Smiling, she headed towards him, Robin doing the same to meet her halfway.

"Robin, there you are! I wasn't certain if you were already here or not, but I suppose I was just early," Lucina said, her words sounding almost half an apology.

"It's alright," Robin assured her. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I am a bit shocked you got here so quickly. So, um… shall we?" he asked, motioning for one of the benches.

"Oh, yes," Lucina blushed, taking a seat as he did the same.

Robin handed her one of the bento boxes he'd prepared the night prior. Inside was rice, pickled daikon and cabbage, and slices of crispy fried pork chops. "I know it's not anything fancy, I am still getting the hang of cooking my own things. I hope you don't mind," he explained.

"Oh, no, I don't mind it at all Robin," Lucina said. She bowed her head in thanks. "I appreciate the thought of preparing something for the both of us." She took a few bites of the food, smiling. That seemed to be a good sign.

"Don't mention it," Robin said. He laughed nervously, again. He needed to stop doing that.

"You have cooked for others before too, have you not?" Lucina asked between mouthfuls.

"Oh, uh, yes, I have. The first few times I am not sure I did the best job, I only started cooking regularly this year," Robin explained. "I guess my practicing has paid off since you and the others seem to have enjoyed it."

"I see. I really should work on my own cooking skills. My own are quite basic, I am afraid," Lucina said. She smiled again as she finished another bite, setting the half-eaten box aside for the moment. "So, how has your day been?"

Robin smiled back. For some time the two chatted, sticking mostly to small talk for the time being.

Lucina enjoyed your lunch!

You feel that your relationship is going to become closer soon…

Just as they'd both finished, a bell rang in the distance, signaling the end of lunch break and that it was time to return to class.

"Oh, look at the time. We both must get going it seems," Lucina said. She stood in unison with him, turning to hand the empty bento box to him. He accepted it, and in doing so their hands brushed against each other. They both blushed, quickly pulling away. Lucina glanced at the floor, Robin glancing off to the side.

"I- Thank you for the lunch, Robin. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness in inviting me," she assured him. She seemed to hesitate a moment, then pulled him into a brief hug. Then, blushing all the more fiercely, she hurried away, heading down the stairs back to class.

"D-Don't mention it," Robin stammered, even though she was no longer there. He was incredibly thankful Several or any of the others weren't there to see him at that moment. They'd never let him live it down.

He reached up, touching his shoulder where Lucina had embraced him. Now, he realized, I need to figure out what the heck that hug was supposed to mean. Shaking his head, he headed down the stairs as well, ready to resume what remained of the school day.

[auggietopia]

i started this blog in december 2019. it was the first tumblr i was ever truly active on, and i had no idea how tags or anything worked. i was freshly 16 and at the age where i was just starting to discover who and what i was, and a lot of it came through in the poetry i posted here. i had very rigid ideas of what literature and poetry was, as i had stopped doing it for a very long time. i wanted attention. i was eager, although i didnt know it then. i was hopeful.

covid hit three months later, in march 2020. i was in the year group whose gcses were cancelled. i posted one poem right as covid hit, in march, and then my last poem i posted in september of 2020 around when i started sixth form, after the longest summer i will ever have in my life. it was also the best summer i have had in my life. i spent 5 months calling with my best friends so constantly to the point i woke up at 6pm and went to bed at 9am just to talk to them. i realised my identity and tried to come out to a mother i would quickly find out was transphobic. i made a lot of friends. i started to gain some real footing on who i was.

i blinked and i am in march 2024. it is four years and a few days since i posted my second to last poem, which is a number that feels truly shocking to type out as it feels like it has been a year at most. in 2019 i turned 16, but in 2024 i will turn 21. this fact upsets me as the absolute formative amount of ageing i went through between the ages of 13-16 feels like it was my entire life and that there isnt room for anything else worthwhile to occur. on my 18th birthday, i held the frog teddy i bought for myself and listened to lord huron at full volume to block out the fear blurring its way into the edges like a migraine. on my 19th birthday, i was alone and terrified in my university dorm. i can't even remember my 20th birthday because of how insignificant it was. ageing, past the age of 18, went from being something exciting to something terrifying in a way i told myself it never would. and yet i am still here, and yet i still age. in a few months, it will be my 21st, and it will likely be at home, and it will likely be alone.

in the space between 16 and now, a lot happened. there were some pretty good things. they sit tiny next to the fact i lost my best friend in 2021 because they turned out to be quite literally the worst person i have ever known on this planet. i will never forgive them for what they did. realistically, every problem i hold against them is so small in the scale of the universe that maybe it isn’t worth holding onto at all, but i have not learned that lesson. i am aggressively refusing that lesson, in fact. at least for right now.

my mental health also took the biggest nosedive it has ever taken. sixth form shut down all sense of self discovery i had once i begin to nosedive in my academics and lose all of my friends. i still havent regained my footing. it has been 2 years since i left sixth form, and i still havent regained my footing.

but it is nice to look back over this blog and not regret a single thing i wrote.

all of this is to say i am going to start posting here again. and, in the most cliche way possible, i am going to do it for me this time. and i am going to post whatever i want without caring whether or not it is refined enough, because life is scarily fleeting and i can do whatever i want.

i was first allergictodrowning, and when i thought that was stupid i became autumndrowns, and now i will be something else that i havent decided yet but it will definitely be equally as stupid. :)

[ogdencollegerp]

MEET GREER'S BOYFRIEND WHEN SHE WENT MISSING -  THE EXONERATED (FORMALLY KNOWN AS THE NAIVE NEWCOMER).

{ FACECLAIM, AGE, GENDER, (HE/HIM, HE/THEY, THEY/THEM) } Is that FIRST NAME LAST NAME? A SOPHOMORE (...AGAIN) originally from HOMETOWN, they decided to come to Ogden College to study MAJOR on an ATHLETIC SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE EXONERATED on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

ABOUT THIS SKELETON: No longer a newcomer…and perhaps no longer naive ?? Having arrived two years ago as the new kid on the block with any buzz or connections, somehow he snagged the most eligible girl on campus. They even seemed happy together...but even those who didn't believe they were didn't expect it when THE EXONERATED was arrested last year in conjunction with THE GOLDEN GIRL's disappearance. With no charges sticking, they’ve been allowed to return to campus for this academic year....but believing it'll be as welcoming for him as it was when he was on Greer's arm would be as naive as he used to be.

MAJOR PLOT POINTS THUS FAR:

A small town boy who was a year younger than THE GOLDEN GIRL, they started dating near the end of the fall semester of his freshman year and Greer’s sophomore. On the surface? Things were fantastic, a dream couple. Smitten with Greer’s charms, and just clueless enough to not notice the ever rotating side pieces, her disappearance caught THE NAIVE NEWCOMER totally off guard.

THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS was one of four students who received a letter from THE GOLDEN GIRL on September 18th…that Greer had dated to be delivered on August 29th. Read more here !!!

Shortly after the beginning of last year, THE EXONERATED learned that THE HEDONIST had been sleeping with THE GOLDEN GIRL during their entire relationship. Needless to say....he did not take the news well, and they got into a huge fight at a party.

Despite having been claiming he knew nothing, the day after the time capsules were leaked (in which THE GOLDEN GIRL implied that not only was he on steroids, but that she was about to break up with him), THE EXONERATED was escorted off campus by the investigation team, leading everyone to wonder what else Greer may have revealed.

THE EXONERATED ended up losing his scholarship due to the alleged steroids. It's been a year, and since no charges or proof ever came up....the expulsion was dropped, and now they're allowed back. Read about their arrest more here !!!

SUGGESTED FCS:

Thomas Weatherall, Evan Mock, Tom Holland, Wang Ziyi, Archie Renaux, David Iacono, Felix Mallard, Boo Boo Stewart, Christopher Briney, Michael Cimino, Diego Tinoco, Wolfgang Novogratz, Nico Hiraga, Ashby Gentry

CHECK OUT OUR WANTED CONNECTIONS !!!

SUGGESTED CONNECTIONS BELOW THE CUT

The last time THE EXCHANGE STUDENT saw THE EXONERATED, (over a year ago) he was happily dating THE GOLDEN GIRL. And that is definitely not the only thing that's changed between now and then.

It's safe to say that things are awkward between THE CLOSET GAY, THE COOL LOSER, THE HEDONIST, and THE EXONERATED thanks to the text last year revealing they all had more in common than they would've thought - namely, THE GOLDEN GIRL. Even if The Closet Gay did try to take it back.

THE PUPPETMASTER was always smug that they seemed to have more influence over THE GOLDEN GIRL than her boyfriends, like THE EXONERATED (at the time). But last year, with Greer gone....maybe they finally could've getting past their differences. Up until he was expelled, at least.

THE MISCREANT knows what it's like to lose THE GOLDEN GIRL over being a delinquent. But then THE EXONERATED didn't lose her because of their behavior, did he ?? Not really, even if that's the picture that was painted.

Having lost a whole year, THE EXONERATED has a lot of catching up to do. He always knew about THE GOLDEN GIRL's use of THE ERUDITE STONER, but having lost his scholarship once already, surely he wouldn't go that route himself....

THE NEPO BABY always acted like she hated when THE GOLDEN GIRL invited her boyfriend around their room (to the point where it maybe seemed like too much)…but now that THE EXONERATED has returned from their expulsion...what will their relationship become ??

THE GOLDEN GIRL would swear that there was no overlap when her relationship with THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS ended two years ago, but what a weird coincidence that she started dating his naive new roommate. Awkward !!! And even more awkward that The Big Man had to watch THE EXONERATED get arrested in conjunction with Greer’s disappearance last year.

THE BUSYBODY is always looking for good gossip - and THE EXONERATED, former boyfriend of THE GOLDEN GIRL, who was arrested and expelled ?? Oh, he has to have all the tea to spill. If they can just get him to.

THE HOMEGROWN HERO and THE EXONERATED had all the makings of a close friendship last year. But THE HOMEGROWN HERO was recruited by THE GOLDEN GIRL, and THE EXONERATED dated her. And now one of them is still idolized, while the other is looked at like a delinquent.

[fixingmysociallife]

Letting go of emotional pain

G'Day Depressos,

back again and with a serious burner this time. I know I tend to ramble quite a lot anyway and this time, my story is a long one. The life lesson at the end is worth it tho, promise.

Last April was my last day of highschool and I was in bliss for about three weeks. Being out of hell finally gave me time to sleep, de-stress, plan a few nice projects and just calm myself down. However, I didn't realise what kind of risks this time in my life would bring. Today I know that I am hugely dependent on clear routines, tasks to work on and emotional support by my friends. Last year, all that stuff wasn't quite clear yet.

So naturally, my mental health slowly began to decline without me figuring out why. I became an unmotivated insomniac with rising anxiety levels and when I tried to lean into my support system...it collapsed right under my sorry ass. In this story I will especially focus on one particular friend. She and I got very close in 11th grade and from that point on, I had given her everything she could ever needed. I gave motivational speeches, hugs, carried emergency chocolate, ordered a pizza into school and went for late visits to watch a comfort movie together. She was not really stable and I was, so I didn't mind pouring some love into her, knowing that she would return it if needed.

Well.

I called her multiple times, crying and hyperventilating (surely over some bullshit that triggered my anxiety, but still) and got immediatly cut off because she was busy, usually with her boyfriend. She also never texted me afterwards or even replied in unter two days and I did not see her alone for two months. To me, it sounded like now that I required some attention and support from her, I was no longer useful or worthy of interaction. So I stopped contacting her.

My overall condition was getting worse and worse and I desperately tried to gain new friendships fast, going out with someone every other night to hang. Didn't help. By the start of summer, I was deep in a depressive phase, a new experience for me. This caused me to be all over the place, miss my friends' birthday and frankly not having energy left to deal with just myself, rather than other people.

And I didn't choose to communicate any of it to her, continued to be a bad friend without given reason and was mad about it. A few times we had a little contact, minor discomforts or arguments, but nothing serious from my perspective. I invited her to my 18th Birthday, she ghosted me for five days and then rspv'd no. Suddenly, it was the end of September. She was scheduled to leave for an exchange in middle of the month. Without a word, she was gone. And I had no idea why.

Damn, I was mad and hurt. I decided to let myself grieve, bring distance between me and the situation and get my life back together first. Maybe that was wrong, maybe that was my last chance to have a talk. Idk. Anyway, college started, I slowly got back on track and am happy and healthy now (more or less, see the entire content of my tumblr blog). She got back, I waited two weeks and then asked to meet up and talk, telling her that I didn't really know why we drifted apart. She declined with the reason that she clearly communicated her feelings and that a talk most likely wouldn't change anything.

???

Of course, I was a little perplex. It didn't sound like her to not let someone speak for themselves and completely disregard the changes a person normally goes trough in half a year and more. It was rude. It was unfair. It was wrong. But you know what? It wasn't my decision to make. Also, I had wanted an open discussion about both our faults, reasons and circumstances. Whilst she had washed herself clear of all guilt in her reply text, basically informing me that the conversation that I imagined couldn't have happened anyway. I was in a bad mood for an evening, laid off homework to watch Newsies (1992) and Legally Blonde, cried a little and got to sleep. And the next morning, I was over it.

Because I realized that, when someone doesn't want closure or help, investing energy simply isn't worth it. The memories of my friend and I together are bittersweet now, but it couldn't have that back anyway. She changed in a way that I dislike and I probably did too.

Recycling is great, but sometimes, broken things cannot be repaired and that's okay.

See you around with the next of my social adventures,

Byee!

Let's be real no one will read this monstrosity of a post.

Oh well

[six40seven]

September 16-18th

I didnt go to school. I told Niki i was feeling too sick to and she just nodded and said it was fine. Just by her body language i could tell she was distracted by something else and i didnt want to bother her more then necessary. I wanted to say thanks to all the people on here sending kind messages and concerned asks. I am okay. I was just a little rattled these last few days and well, of course today. I havent slept in almost 32 hours. There is no way in hell im closing my eyes and waking up somewhere strange again with no recollection of how i got there.

This doesnt make sense, and i can tell youre telling me in your head “Ran you need to sleep.” And i know you’re right but it was just horrifying. I have a hard enough time remembering what i do when im awake. Why would this suddenly start happening to me. Its unfair. I was doing fine. Now im not, and i dread falling asleep again. Im too afriad to ask Niki to instal a lock of sorts so last night and the night before and really any time I’ve been feeling the urge to sleep.. well I’ve began to tie my foot to my post. ITS NOT TIGHT. I just dont want to wander off again.

Fall break is soon. I mean sorta. I attempted to attend school online the second day home after the ordeal but my connection was too shit. I guess its the trees blocking the signal. Or maybe the mountains. Speaking of trees, i havent left my house since that day. I dont want to risk whatever happened happening again, worse while im awak. Not that i think it will but the way the trees just… tempt me sometimes. I cant risk walking to the bus or walking even out of my house. WHEERE i use to consider it a blessing to not live in the town houses, i now regret never moving closer. Fuck. Its been so long since I’ve been outside im worried my skin will fall off my body and ill die if i spend one more day barred in my room.

Its okay, for the most part. besides the natural (?) urge i have to be outside all the time. Ive sort of forgotten to document much these o past few days. But i dont think anything else significant happened. As far as related to me. Niki didnt come back the first night and i spent all that time in ym room with the blind drawn and the lights on. I was afriad if i turned the lights off i would nod off. I ended up watching YouTube and Netflix on my laptop as well as cleaning my entire room.

Usually my room is a trash heap, i like it that way, its like having my own nest. But that first night. I couldn’t stand all the things and i pretty much Ed cleaned everything top to bottom in less then 3 hours. I found a few interested things while i was doing that, including but not limited to: a box full of my old Polaroids and camera, a stuffed animal i thought i had lost which went back onto my bed, and a total of 20 spare dollars made mostly out of 1 Dollar bills and quarters.

The only thing of real interest was the Polaroid camera. I thought i lost that thing years and years ago. I only know i had one at all because i have some older pictures pinned places and tucked into my phone case. Theyre all of people i dont really know but i like to think i do so i can carry some part of them with me. They must have been important to me at some point yk. So i decided to look through and sort out any of the Polaroids i remeber or anything like that. These are my findings. I’ll explain them after i show them to you.

starting at the left top and going left to right. It reads Nov 1st 20##. all of these are from when i was a kid. maybe when i was in 4th or 5th grade? Im not entirely sure the exact age i was. The photo shown is a picture i must have taken of some sort of important journal entry, i cant really read it but at least if i ever needed to remeber taking a picture.. I remember, thanks past me.

The next one, in order, is a picture of two shadows. Maybe three. Probably me. Maybe Niki… or Eryn. we were close when we were kids and hes in two of these already. So ill just mention him. idk if he will be okay with me talking about him on here. I dont think he knows i have this account. hopefully he doesnt find it. Not that i would care very much. He just doesnt like me. The caption is just a date. oct 3rd. no year. I wonder when it happened? sometime in my childhood probably. I havent used this camera in years and years. I lost it so long ago.

The third is a weirdly saturated picture of a park in my town. The bigger town. Its just weird. And the caption says… evacuating or something. Its sorta weird. also Niki might have taken this picture because her name is on it too. Seems like her type of thing. from what i remeber as a kid, when we still lived in the big town, she was into weird saturated pictures. Something about scene. I dont know really.

The fourth is on the second line of pictures i found in the Box. On the bottom left. It says July 20## again sometime in my childhood. It shows aforementioned Eryn crouching ont he ground showing something to everyone. Or the viewer. I can see myself, or younger me. Younger me off to the side. Someone else took this picture. I dont remeber this happening. But it was important enough to keep so there it is. Thats pretty much it.

The fifth, wow thats a lot of numbers. Its got a smiley face :) on it. and its a picture of the lake. Yk the one bordering the left side of the bigger town. Its one of the smaller more muddy parts so its all gross. Probably from a hike that i wanted to remeber with Niki or something. I loved the lake when i was a kid. It was fun to swim in but after… after awhile i stopped going and then it closed because of something weird and now you can only go hiking near and around it.

The sixth. A picture of me and ****** hugging. Eryn in the background. It reads Eryn & ##### July. Its a cute picture. I dont know… who ****** is? Yeah i dont know. but i must have known them at one point because thats them. Yeah. They look familiar in the worse way and i pretty much threw that one back in the box as soon as I could. I dont like lookign at it. My stomach hurts when i do.

The seventh. And last a picture of a cat. Even when i was a kid i also apparently liked cats. It reads Spring 20##.

So yeah. I just wanted to say im glad i was able to find them and document them somewhere. I also thought while im explaing photos and stuff ill go into a little detail about what i discovered from that night. Posted on here.

The first piece is clearly a path somewhere in the forest. If i were to say, somewhere further in the mountains, near where the older remains of mines are. The only thing wrong about this piece is that…. When i posted it, theres no wya for there to have been snow. So either the photo is altered in some way, which is unlikely, because from what i can tell it was posted in the middle of the night. Or it was actually snowing wherever i was. even though all the previous days it had been raining.

The next picture looks like some sort of underground tunnel, lined with bricks and ending in step leading up to a barred and maybe locked? I dont know, barred iron gate. I have never seen that place before. Ive been in a lot of abandoned buildings that I’ve found near here but I’ve never seen something like this. The only explaination i can give for the location is possibly a sewer enterance somewhere in the basement of one of the older buildings, not from the big town but rather from the smaller town nearer to my house. Again, it looks like its snowing. Which makes no sense in any context, since it was snowing when i woke up (even though i said i thought it was) and because if this was underground where would snow be coming from? The title says… I heard you. Im here. I dont remeber this. Obviously. and i dont know who i would have.. heard? It doesnt make any sense.

The third picture… i dont have much to say. It looks dark. Maybe its related to the second picture, maybe its on the otherside of the gate. But I’ve never seen a place that dark before. Especially if it has walls. which I think it does. so it must be in a building somewhere out in the forest. Sorta supports my abandoned building theory. Or abandoned mine shaft? I have no idea. But the capture is clearly a long hallway. the caption says something is wrong. No duh. I am clearly self aware even if i dont remeber. I wonder if i act different..

Anyway, thats all for the last few days. I probably will end up attending school tomorrow. Niki isnt home yet, its near the end of the day so if she isnt home by now im assuming shes staying overnight at the office. wouldn’t be the first, wont be the last. I might get a snack before trying not to fall asleep a third night in a row. If anyone wants to chat with me, ill be open to the distractions.

[clumsyclifford]

2022 Writing Evaluation

hi i dug this up from the archives of this time last year because it was fun to do and i wanted to give other writers a chance to reflect if they’re so inclined! so here is my 2022 writing self-evaluation. point of order, i’m mostly filling this out specifically for my bellawritess ao3 and all the rpf stuff i write, not my other secret ao3 where i put fics written about fictional media. okay, onward. 

1. number of stories posted on ao3: 23!

2. word count posted for this year: 117,763

3. fandoms i wrote for: 5sos, atl, and 1d (but also teen wolf, mcu spiderman, hawkeye, and daredevil)

4. pairings: cake, lashton, malum, jalex, narry, halex (you know that very popular harry styles/alex gaskarth ship), and mirry.

5. story with the most kudos/bookmarks/comments: the answer to all three of these criteria is a change of heart and a silver lining, my winter 2021-22 fic exchange fic, which makes me very happy. i cannot believe that fic was from last year, january feels like forever ago but i love love love that specific work so much, in large part because of how much i was able to tailor it to meg as reciprocation for all the times and ways she tailored things to me.

6. work i’m most proud of (and why): i’m gonna say a three-way tie between (1) i got a radar for trouble (and you’re a renegade), (2) between all the gasping i finally breathe, and (3) play it again and again and again. #1 is the cruel summer prequel fic that i always half-jokingly said i would one day write and then surprised myself by actually writing, and i am incredibly proud of how well i managed to recreate the vibes of cruel summer fic but also write a prequel that made sense with the direction the actual cruel summer story took. #2 was one of the first legit fics i wrote to break myself out of this big 5sos fic slump i had been in (consequence of a perfect storm of a lot of small things), and i may have gotten lost in the metaphor sauce but i maintain that the metaphors are really fucking good which was gratifying to me as a writer who had felt like maybe i’d lost my real writing skill before then. #3 is the christmas fic i wrote for hazel, and what i’m most proud of there is that i fuckin actually wrote that. my love for my friends carried me through the warfields of attempting to romanticize christmas, and in so doing i think i actually learned something about christmas, ugh i feel like i’m getting less jewish every second i spend talking about this but i really am proud of myself for writing that and even moreso because i think i tailored it pretty well to hazel’s taste and that made me happy. it was like an extra challenge i set myself and then i did it well.

7. work i’m least proud of (and why): pretty much all the prompt fics from this year’s batch, tbh. this malum roommates one is really funny if you imagine you’re a fly on the wall of mine and megs’s dorm room but it’s the most nothing fic on the planet otherwise, and you’re my whole house is cute but again, literally nothing. unfortunately these were written while i was binge watching seinfeld which probably contributed to how much they were About Nothing but that’s no excuse.

8. share or describe a favorite review you received: i’m super terrible at remembering comments and stuff that people leave me but a few days ago i got a comment on yssdf saying it was one of the best love stories they’d ever read and that just about knocked my socks off

9. a time when writing was really, really hard: from aboutttt february to september, which is pretty obvious when you notice that i didn’t post a fic (on this account) between march 18th and september 27th of this year. i hit that aforementioned slump in a big way and i was also busy with life stuff and i was also just. unmotivated and uninspired! but in that time i wasn’t really doing a lot of writing to struggle with. something that was actively hard to write was definitely parts of the jet lag songfic i wrote for the fest. megs and hazel both experienced various aspects of my intense battle with Plot and Characters. it was not pretty.

10. a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: luke in the muke college beach fic!!! he was so much more gutsy than (a) he’s usually written and (b) i expected him to be. and tbh, michael in that fic also kind of surprised me, although less so because he was based on a real guy i know, so it was more like trying to delve into the fictionalized mind of a real human being i go to school with and understand what it is that makes him only APPEAR to be an asshole and in reality maybe actually have a heart of gold. if that makes sense. character work but the character is based on a real person who is based on a real person. meta af.

11. a favorite excerpt of your writing: ill be the first to admit im a sucker for when there’s a song playing in the in-universe fic scene and then the lyrics tie into the moment. i have that in two fics that i can think of, so here they both are:

(1) from everywhere, everything:

Luke is trembling when he looks up at Ashton, but he only nods. Tilts their foreheads together.

Say it’s me that you’ll adore— Sinatra sings, and then there’s a scratch and a crack, and the whole record player crashes through the glass tabletop.

(the end of that lyric is “for now and evermore” !!!! HOW FUCKED IS THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(2) from faith in a stolen car (the jean jacket songfic i just wrote for the fest):

Calum’s rumbling laugh shook both of them as Springsteen vowed I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul, and Ashton sang along in a silly voice so Calum knew he meant it with everything he had.

[and]

He turned up the music, and ‘No Surrender’ blared out of the surround sound. The lines that had been stampeding around Ashton’s brain since Calum had first swept him up in tonight’s teenage delinquency now screamed against the wind in his ears.

Ashton smiled wider than his face could handle and screamed right back.

“WE MADE A PROMISE WE SWORE WE’D ALWAYS REMEMBER,” Calum’s voice joined his, and together they beat back the deafening gales; “NO RETREAT, BABY, NO SURRENDER!”

12. how did you grow as a writer this year? this year i learned the importance of conflict. “hey bella, didn’t you learn that in seventh grade english?” YES but then i IGNORED it and now i have relearned it in a fanfiction context and in the broader sense that i now understand every story has a conflict and more than that, a story needs a conflict, because that’s what drives it. after i finished writing those prompt fics, i thought, damn, these are fun but nothing is fucking happening in any of them. i wonder why that is! and then i realized. there was no conflict. i was writing “scenes” but nothing interesting within those scenes, so there was nothing pulling the characters from point A (the start of the scene) to point B (its conclusion) and as a result they all became meandering blocks of text with no goal or direction. anyway. point being that i have embraced conflict as a necessary factor in storytelling and i hope this will mean no more seinfeldian fics, prompt or otherwise.

13. how do you hope to grow next year? yes <3 jk but i sincerely have no idea, i don’t have any current ideas on how i plan to grow next year i just very much intend to grow. how it happens is anyone’s guess

14. who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc)? gotta be a tie between megs @igarbagecannoteven and hazel @allsassnoclass. obviously megs is my #1 rubber duck roomie, whether she likes it or not, and she has helped me solve more problems than i am comfortable admitting. actually i’m very comfortable admitting it megs has untangled a myriad of fic knots on many occasions this year she is the best rubber duck in the world. and hazel has become my virtual rubber duck which is great because it means i have all my bases covered! truly these two are a dynamic duo because they will both just let me sit there and complain and yet always have the right thing to say.

15. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year? as always, a great many things. make the same mistakes ‘til the morning breaks and the muke college beach fic are both inspired by things that happened with this one guy i know from school (yes, the same guy, and yes, he is represented by michael both times, and no, i do not know why it happened like that). the latter came from just a single snap i saw on his snap story, and none of the fic is actually based on real events, but the former is HEAVILY based on real events between this guy and one of my good friends at school. lmao! 

i’ve been wishing i could breathe underwater is based on my experience scuba diving, which is to say, pure unmitigated terror, 1/10, do not recommend except to say that you did it. tequila shots from the dark scene of the crime is chock-full of baseball talk, specifically about Worst Team In Baseball the Washington Nationals (affectionate), so those feelings are straight from my heart. the concept of tell me what to see has not happened to me but it was very much inspired by my experience of getting in the habit of working out and realizing your muscles are literally increasing in size. the christmas fic has all my jewish disdain for christmas. that’s the shortlist, i think!

16. any new wisdom you can share with other writers? honestly, nope! i think other writers are thriving on their own fic journeys, as i am on mine. you guys seem to have a handle on things. i can reiterate my vehement loathing of comma splices or otherwise incorrectly-placed commas, but other than that i don’t have much to offer in the way of wisdom.

17. any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year? yes!! i am really excited to (hopefully) finish this fic ive been intermittently writing that is based on back together by tss. well, actually it’s based on the specific energy that was created in the world when back together and 2011 were released on the same night. it’s a tss!5sos au. it’s going to be really good okay. it’s tasty. and as always i hope to finish summer camp au i am dead fucking set on finishing that fic there is no question in my mind that it will be completed someday sooner rather than later i hope but definitely eventually. aside from those, i can’t think of any other fic plans i have! just gonna see where the winds of fic fate take me.

18. tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: @igarbagecannoteven @allsassnoclass @kaleidoscopeminds @burstingsunrise @cringeycal (?) <3

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, September 18th, 2024.

Here’s some weird and personal questions, you down?: Yeah. I'm sure they're really weird and really personal. Just like every other survey that makes this claim. ;D

Can you call your ex without it being awkward?: I don't have any of their numbers, but no, it would definitely be awkward.

Do you still talk to the person you last kissed on the lips?: I don't.

Will you be in a relationship one month from now?: Not unless something highly unexpected and unlikely happens.

What about 2?: Maybe more like two YEARS. Maybe not even THEN. Let me learn how to socialize on a basic level first, maybe form some friendships IRL - something! - before jumping back into the dating pool.

Could you go a day not talking to the last person you kissed? I haven't spoken to them for years.

Is your room ever clean?: I just finished cleaning it a little bit ago. It could be cleaner, though. The closet area is still a mess and I have drawers filled with old/useless junk, but at least the "exterior" is presentable.

Do you drink bottled water?: I drink water from a bottle, but I don't often drink bottled water. I did get one at Fuel & Iron the last time I went out to eat, though, because that's all they offer - bottled or canned drinks.

Honestly, are things going the way you planned?: Ehhh.

Do you hate the last person who called you?: That was my mom, and no, I don't hate her. Also, the resentment and awkwardness I felt when we reconnected last year has greatly diminished. I realized just recently that I no longer have much of an anxiety response to meeting up with her. We still don't have a strong bond, but there's a lot more warmth involved.

What are you listening to at the moment?: I'm not listening to anything.

Think back five months ago, what was your relationship status?: Single.

Name something you dislike about the day you’re having?: Nothing really. It's been a good day so far. I woke up early to go grocery shopping (Halloween/autumn goodies acquired), had therapy at 9:30am (very helpful), made some art, cleaned my room, and now I'm here. The only things to dislike would be the fact that I have a bit of a headache, as well as my art not turning out quite the way I wanted…although, on second thought, now that I'm giving it another glance…it's not that bad. I would have been thrilled to be able to create something like that a year ago. I think part of my dissatisfaction with recent pieces has to do with the fact that I'm treating "art time" more like an obligation to rush through rather than an opportunity to relax and meditate.

If you are being extremely quiet, what does that mean?: It could mean a lot of different things depending on the situation. I don't feel well; I'm shy; I'm tired; I'm uncomfortable; I don't have anything to say; I'm just chillin'…

Think back to the last person you held hands with, would you kiss them?: No.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single?: Yeah.

When was the last time you cried?: I almost cried in therapy earlier, but as usual, I reminded myself that a few tears weren't worth a migraine. Lot of good that did, though, since I can kind of feel one coming on now. :')

Why was that?: I don't recall the exact reason. I have a general idea because the appointment stuck to a specific theme, but I don't remember what I was saying/thinking in that moment.

What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?: Put on the newest podcast from Essential Salts.

How would you feel about traveling abroad alone?: I'm not interested in traveling alone. One, I'd be scared; two, I would much rather have someone with me to share in the experience.

Do you currently have feelings for anybody?: No.

Do you think a lot of people think bad things about you?: A few might, but some of those people probably don't even think about me at all anymore, so. Most of the people actually in my life seem to think good things.

What was the last thing you watched on TV?: Some old sitcom on the TV in the waiting room for therapy. Maybe Cheers? Something like that? Idk.

Is your birthday soon?: It's not until March.

Do you like the color green?: Yeah. Pine green, mint or pastel green, soft wintry green…

Do you like winter?: I love winter.

What are you scared of most?: Ughgh.

Have you ever given out your number and then regretted it?: I don't think so.

Do you curse a lot?: I'm probably somewhere in the middle.

Who do you wish was with you at the moment?: No one. I can't concentrate on surveys when other people are around. My brain turns to jumbled mush.

How many pillows do you sleep with?: One body pillow, but there are several more on the bed that I don't use for sleeping.

Are you drunk?: No.

What was the last song you listened to that made you cry? I'm not sure.

Your ex REALLY needs you at 3am and you have a way to their house would you go?: Why me specifically and not literally anyone else? Also is the way to their house via astral projection because I feel like that's the only way I could get there so quickly.

Could you survive without electricity?: Without using it under any circumstances whatsoever? No.

Without saying any names what is one thing that you would like to say to someone?: I just feel like it would be super obvious who the intended recipient would be. Plus, I don't feel like anything I would say would make any difference. Well…that's not entirely accurate. It might make a difference, but not a positive or worthwhile one.

Does the thought of marriage scare you?: Yeah.

What were the last words you spoke out loud?: I'm not sure.

Would your parents get mad if you got drunk while they were present?: I wouldn't drink around my mom because she's a recovering alcoholic. My dad probably wouldn't care, but I'm not much of a drinker anymore. Not to the point of drunkenness, anyway.

Would you date someone who lived in another state?: I've answered this before in greater depth, so let's just say it's not out of the question but it's not something I would prefer.

Are you friends with your ex?: No.

Where is the person you last texted? I think he's in his room. If not, then maybe in the family room/office.

Who is someone that you would do anything for?: My dad.

What time did you wake up today? Way too early, but I got out of bed at 6:00am.

Did you wear what you are wearing today for a specific reason?: No.

Did you eat a cookie today?: No, but I had a little bit of a walnut pistachio muffin.

What’s bothering you right now?: Same old, same old. I hate that I more or less know the answers to my current troubles, but those answers aren't immediately satisfying.

Have you ever laid on a bed and stayed there for no reason at all?: Like just sort of zoned out for a bit? Sure.

What does the last text message in your inbox say?: It's just a random key smash from my dad. That's his typical response to me letting him know when I'm on my way home from the shelter.

[agenthemingway]

1986. 18th of September. 

his day begins way before sunrise and it’s the church bells that wake jamal. it was insufferable in the beginning, all he wanted was some good rest but instead, he got interrupted bursts of sleep, migraines and dreams abruptly ending just before the good parts. now that he’s used to the sound, he comes to a lot more gentle, a lot more peaceful—the epitome of what he’s trying to become. it’s been a year and then some of this, a year of monsieur bernard greeting the handful of devoted parishioners whenever they show up for prayer, making sure the flowers are always fresh in eglise de sainte agnès, a year of making peace with the fact that this is his life now and that it will continue to be like this until he—exactly, until when? until he gets bored? until he’s found out? 

truth is, the locals stopped asking him about his origins months ago. the curiosity has evaporated rather quickly, they don’t even ask about his french—his only connection to home, real home, he’s ever had a grasp of—anymore. somewhere down the line, they’ve accepted bernard as their own; he’s no longer the intimidating alien who’s arrived overnight and stayed. people don’t do that here, tourists come and go but the community never grows with the help of the outside. 

la volonté de dieu. god’s will, the priest at saint agnès told him after his first week here. everything happens for a reason. if only he knew the reason why jamal’s so far from home. but then again home has always been a tricky concept for him, so tricky that at some point, he’s just decided to give up on it. home is wherever he ends up at. home can be that roadside ditch he had to sleep in the summer before last because he didn’t make it into town in time. 

home can and will be the french village of five hundred and something people. le fugitif américain included.

he rides his bike down to the coast and the sun begins to rise during the final stretch. he usually makes it to the beach while it’s still dark but there’s something off about today—jamal’s feeling a bit slow, a bit groggy. there’s a heaviness around his heart he hasn’t felt in a very long time and he can’t wait to hear the water because he knows that it’s going to make this feeling go away. 

the sight brings comfort. no end and no beginning, a body always at work. just like him. 

his first night here, his first night as monsieur bernard, he walked the whole way to the coastline and when he dropped down onto the sand, he cried like a child, for the first time in years. he’d never felt like this before, so lost and so free at the same time. a moment of tranquility arrived when he bathed under moonlight, the salty tracks of his tears disappearing with a dive into the waves and then he felt it. home is wherever he ends up at. here is home. 

the sight, smell and sound of the lapping water works like magic and the day doesn’t feel so daunting anymore. he’ll come back, open for the first mass, weed the grass by the back entrance. then he’ll visit the marceaus as promised so they can feed him a late breakfast as a thank you for fixing their leaky roof. he’s meant to tend to the chapel today, he can do that around lunchtime. after that, it’s free time until five and the afternoon mass. he might do some mending on the vestments, père marcel said something about a nasty tear. then it’s evening prayer, dinner and the day’s gone by just like that. 

he loves it, really. jamal keeps busy but it’s the kind of busy that doesn’t leave you exhausted and dreading the next morning. when he crawls into bed, he rests happy, content. well, mostly. 

sometimes he’s homesick for his old life. maybe not as much for the life itself but for the people in it. he’s made a life for himself here but the past stings when he least expects it. he sees his friends’ faces in the townsfolk here; michel, the grocer, sometimes laughs the way one of his squadron members used to; madeleine, the mother of three he sometimes babysits for, has the same stern look on her face whenever she disciplines her children as captain thomson used to whenever she needed them to stop fucking around. the nostalgia for these people always comes when he’s softly treading between dreams and the lasts of his consciousness but he never actually dreams of them. he’s not sure he dreams at all and if he does, he can’t remember anything come morning. 

he’s a bit more settled when he arrives at the chapel. he says a quick prayer—a habit he picked up to blend in better that he’s decided to stick with. there isn’t much religious conviction behind it anymore, at least not in the traditional sense. it’s more spiritual, untethered. and then it’s just plain funny. sebastian, patron saint of soldiers; agnes, patron saint of chastity. the prayers sometimes feel like an inside joke among the three of them.

jamal looks around, makes a mental checklist of the chores ahead and with a sigh, he bends down to pick up the dried out flowers. he hasn’t brought any to replace them with but that’s only because, as usual, there will be plenty of fresh blooms left int he stone trough outside tomorrow before the afternoon service. he’s still not sure who’s the one leaving them here and father marcel is no help in answering the question either. jamal figures the parishioners must be on rotation for this or something. 

sweeping the place is the last thing he has to do before he can go back for lunch. maybe he’ll take a nap, he’s unusually tired today. he gets on with the task, mindlessly going through the motions because he’s not really in the mood to have fun with it right now; there’s usually some whistling, humming and quiet singing involved, something to make the labor not feel as taxing but there’s no room for it today. especially when he feels raindrops on his face—better take care of it quickly and get back. there’s time and place for romantic bike rides in the rain but not today. 

when two figures that look severely out of place approach jamal, his entire body tenses up. his grip on the poor broom is so tight, he might actually break it. his first thought is that the army’s finally caught up to him—even though it’s been almost two years and he figured that maybe they’ve just given up on trying to find him, a part of him has always been prepared for this possibility. at first, his plan was to run. fight his way out of it if he has to but run and don’t let them catch you. but that was then. now, jamal doesn't really have it in him. whatever they want from him, he’ll face the consequences. doesn’t mean that this encounter isn’t about to be any less unbearable, though. his skin’s gone all cold and clammy, he hasn’t been this nervous in months. 

one of them smiles and if the circumstances were different, jamal would’ve found it incredibly disarming. but right now, all it does is stress him out further. he stands tall, distrustful of the two newcomers and even though they don’t reveal themselves to be an immediate threat, jamal’s ever sense is on guard, looking for danger. 

he doesn’t reply at first, neither in french nor english, instead just sizes the two men up, his face still as a stone. but if he doesn’t engage, he won’t find out what’s going on. the word agent catches his attention. “did they send fbi after me or what?” is the first thing that comes out jamal’s mouth. it doesn’t really make sense to him, he wasn’t that important but at this point, he wouldn’t put anything past them. “took y’all long enough.”

he leans the broom against the nearest wall, makes sure to keep the two men in his line of sight as he does. he keeps his moves slow and open because god knows what the agents’ goal here is. shoot on sight if he’s acting too suspicious?

“so what happens now?” he asks, gives both of the agents another set of distrustful looks. jamal glances around—they’re definitely alone here, not a single soul around for at least a couple miles. the drizzle is slowly picking up as well. feels like he’s in a movie. and scenes like this never really end well. “taking me back? prison?” the words roll off his tongue without a strain but they feel heavy; the idea that one day he’ll get punished for deserting has always existed in the back of his head but he’s grown very skilled in ignoring it. by the time he’s arrived in saint-agnès, jamal’s grown mostly convinced that he’s in the safe zone. “just—no bullshit. what’s going on?”

the peregrine soliton.

closed starter ft. @agenthemingway, mentions of @dxckinson.

setting: multiple locations.

timeframe: various times.

summary: the recruitment of a new agent. the beginning of a friendship. the premature end to a mission.

content warnings: none for this part. future content may include depictions of depression, period-typical homophobia, suicidal ideation, etc., triggers will be updated within the tags.

1986. 18th of September.

The clouds by Agent Dickinson’s head roll across the plane’s oval window like chronophotographs, its animated stroll across the sky, each phase of the movement, captured in the lens of Faulkner’s eyes. He hasn’t seen the wisps of cirrus clouds rush by like busy traffic since almost a decade ago when this agent last took to the air. And never has he witnessed them in something as dandy as business class. But for his snoozing partner seated by the window, it’s his first time leaving the country on a plane (and boarding a plane in general). From a technical point of view, it is more efficient and discreet to have their trip to and back from France to be as comfortable for them and their guest.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping man beside him, Faulkner slides out the files from his briefcase and reviews them again. He reminds himself to breathe out through his nose after his chest lightly pangs due to a lack of oxygen. His fingers do not tremble, but his vision does, blurring the name on the brief before focusing back into clarity. Dark, dark brown eyes linger on the photo in the file.

He is so young here to the point of unrecognition.

Agent Faulkner parts his lips no more significant than a millimeter apart and inhales. It's soundless, like how they taught in boot camp. But basic training hasn't covered the skills required for this Herculean feat. This is the only time he has experienced a physical ailment close to sickness that clams up his hands and dampens the crisp white collar of his dress shirt, spiteful of the handkerchief Agent Faulkner carries to keep his indecorousness at bay.

Then, if his background fails him, Faulkner can only fall back on the lessons from his best tutor. However, that dearly venerated man no longer extends visits. He last saw Faulkner a long time ago.

The ding of the seatbelt sign signals their plane's descent. Feeling his partner would enjoy the view, Agent Faulkner gently nudges the man at his left and whispers, "Agent, please wake up. I believe you would like to see Nice."

Their contact meets them when the two agents exit Aéroport Nice Côte d'Azur, leading them to a parking lot and passing them the keys to a partridge-gray Citroën GSA. The thin, bearded man gives them a once-over before he tuts. Crossing his arms, the contact inquires with an arched brow, « Savez-vous tous où aller? »

Having studied the maps and trekked through the French coastline in his youth, Faulkner nods. The other man cocks his head with a frown, and a small puff of air is forced from his wrinkled lips. Seeing that the man is unconvinced, Agent Faulkner says in pleasantly accented Niçard, « Òc, n’ai una foura, monsieur. Mercés a ouf. »

The Frenchman does a double-take, muttering to himself, « Porca petan. Que lenga a, a Paris va. »

Agent Faulkner opens the door for Agent Dickinson in the front passenger seat — to which he receives a grin and a softly whispered thanks — and goes to place their luggage in the trunk — to which Dickinson jolts up in his seat and says, “No, let me help.” But Faulkner declines, heading to the back of the car as the man is clearly going through his first bout of jetlag.

Giving their contact another professional smile after getting their luggage in order, Agent Faulkner climbs into the driver’s seat to the lively tune of a French pop song. It is his mission partner’s doing, already establishing musical accompaniment in their drive along the coastal mountainside. It’s only been a year of teaming together, but they have found their respective roles.

According to the brief, the drive from the airport to the Alpes-Maritimes commune Sainte-Agnès will take roughly two hours. Agent Dickinson has the map open to call out directions to the streets, his face in a slight frown while turning back and forth between the English and French sides of the road map. On a gray-blue September morning at ten hundred hours, the two Temporal Agents drive out of the parking lot.

Faulkner keeps his eyes on the road, two hands on the wheel, focusing on the drive while his mission partner looks out the window and whistles at the view of the slate-blue sea. The Mediterranean Sea, which hugs the Southern French coastline, is connected to the more immense Atlantic Ocean but is almost entirely enclosed by land. At the north are Southern Europe and Anatolia, opposite at the south are the Northern countries of Africa, and its east is bordered by the West Asian Levant.

In the Mediterranean Sea’s grand history, the Roman Empire is the only state ever to control its coasts in a nautical hegemony. The sea’s name comes from the Romans. The 3rd-century Latin grammarian and geographer Gaius Julius Solinus, better known simply as Solinus, called it Mare Mediterrāneum, which means the sea ‘in the middle of land,’ or inland; the term a compound of the Latin words ‘middle’ medius, ‘land’ terra, and ‘qualitative nature’ -āneus.

Agent Dickinson stirs in his seat, sticking his head slightly out of the open window.

“Agent, be careful,” Faulkner warns but keeps his eyes on the road. Through his periphery, he glimpses Dickinson’s deep umber curls rippling by the sea breeze like waves.

“Is this place known for its fisheries, by chance, FK? I know you can’t look, but there are nets all over the water over there. I’ve never seen anything like it. Hey, the French like clams, right? Maybe they’re clam farms... Wait. There aren't any boats.”

Ah, what his partner is describing must be a cross sea. The autumnal squalls generating the square waves have Dickinson confuse them for a wide-cast fishing net, as the skies above them show no sign of a tremendous gale. These squared seas are due to two weather systems meeting at the precipices of their systems, far from their sources. Despite their innocent and novelty appearance, this sea state is the typical perpetrator of shipwrecks, as the vessel cannot sail into one set of waves without sailing parallel to the other. In short, it is a perilous sign.

Explaining it as such to his partner and reminding his partner that his codename is Faulkner, not FK, the other agent replies, “Ay, n’ombre… Y’know, that fact is almost as comforting as the thing you said about us dying instantly if our plane crashed in the ocean last night, Faulk.”

Faulkner smiles, and his partner laughs out loud.

It takes them half an hour to drive ten kilometers inland from Menton to an outcrop of rocky cliffsides. Their hatchback ascends the ever-winding and steepening slope, as Sainte-Agnès (or Sant Anha in the local dialect) sits at the highest point in the Alpes-Maritimes department in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region, 800 meters above the level of the Mediterranean Sea. Home to less than 455 people by 1982, the small town’s precarious road showcases the dazzling sights of the Provençal hilltops and the vast sea.

The rural town hasn’t changed much from the past. The jagged peak of the commune creeps into sight. Beyond that would be the Fort Maginot de Sainte-Agnès. A part of the Maginot Defense Line in 1932 to defend the area against possible Italian and German invasion, it has now been remodified into a museum. It’ll find more use as a cultural heritage site than a war front, as the invaders went around and never sieged the fort.

If they had more time, Faulkner would’ve loved to tour around with Agent Dickinson to highlight the ancient churches, castle ruins, religious pilgrimages, and legends surrounding this coastal commune. Southern France is famous for their cuisine, and many terraced restaurants in the region offer an unrivaled view of the French Riviera that only their mountain town can provide. However, Faulkner is efficient, and they have arrived at their destination at the crossroads of the three roads that lead into the city: Chapelle Saint-Sébastien.

The stout, one-storied chapel has a large wooden cross at the front of its cobblestoned entrance. A metal gate is in place, signaling to any congregation that service is unavailable until later. A tall, lone man sweeps the steps with a wooden broom. As the car slows to a stop on the gravel lot, Faulkner checks his watch. Eleven hundred hours and forty-two minutes. C’est l’heure du déjeuner. Or, in English, lunch-time.

He opens the door, and a bit of moisture meets his hand. The skies above have gathered the flock of sheep-puff clouds. They mingle; the air is fresh and cool. Mist and light drizzle dampen the coarse earth. Faulkner looks to the backseat of the car, takes his briefcase, and tells his partner, “Agent, I regret to inform you it is raining. Have you packed your raincoat? I can get it for you.”

“I don’t mind getting a little wet, but I know you'll insist. It should be on my suitcase’s left side inner pocket, but don’t open the other side ‘cause that’s where my unmentionables are.” Dickinson says.

Faulkner quirks an eyebrow and says, “But you mentioned it, so they aren’t ‘unmentionable,’ Agent.” But he nods and does just that to the pleasant sound of his partner's loud chuckles, quickly fetching their raincoats from the trunk while Agent Dickinson also exits the vehicle.

The light sprinkle wets his gelled hair, and a few strands fall out of place when he brushes them back. However, Agent Faulkner doesn’t mind the rain. It is necessary to the ecosystem and a refreshing conclusion to extended heat waves; he even finds the sound relaxing while reading a book. But he doesn’t want to ruin his suit or wet his files. Picking up an umbrella in case the mizzle explodes into a cloudburst, he closes the trunk and hands the raincoat to his partner.

Together, they climb the cobblestone steps, approaching their target: the man sweeping the church front.

Agent Faulkner calms himself with another breath. He has yet to fail a single mission — assassinations, cover-ups, codebreaking the Soviets during the brink of Cold War Armageddon, all these high-risk assignments a mainstay in his resume. But this recruitment task is so out of his depth.

The Temporal Bureau has had this individual on their radar since his early days in the United States Army. The Bureau has given Agent Faulkner the unique mission usually offered to a designated and experienced recruiter. Although he wishes to ask, why me, Faulkner knows their organization does not make mistakes. And so mustn’t he.

He is someone who knows how to rally the troops, Agent Faulkner. He is good with his words. Someone who will know his brothers-in-arms like the back of his hand. A person we must be able to rely on and trust. With your help, we’ll bring him into the Temporal Bureau.

Faulkner remembers how he reacted to the picture his superiors slid to him across the briefing room table. He shook, no different from a dead leaf on a branch.

Make certain you will not fail him or us, Agent.

There is a tug on his sleeve. Faulkner reacts, snapping his head to — Agent Dickinson, who gives Faulkner the tiniest crease of his rosy, full lips, pinched at the corners. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, this is my first time too. When I was with the old man—uh, I mean when I was with my old partner, we didn’t take any noncombat missions, so I’m out of my element as well. But the bureau wouldn’t have sent you—us out here if they didn’t think we could do this. So let’s just, y’know, stick to the script we came up on the plane, and if it feels like he’s not biting, then… I don’t know, we can talk from the heart?”

Faulkner cannot speak. So he nods, confused by the tenseness in his chest disappearing. His face feels a little hot.

“That’s him over there, isn’t it? Damn, I thought someone fudged the numbers when I saw that six-foot-four… What are they feeding you guys in the army that we’re not getting in the other branches?” Agent Dickinson whispers.

Faulkner also wonders about present-day rations but keeps it private from his partner. There is no place for his mind to wander now. It is mission time.

« Bonjour monsieur. Parlez-vous anglais? » Faulkner calls out to the tall man, mustering as much warmth as he can into his greeting, as taught by his tutor. If it works, it’d be all thanks to that man. If it fails, it is Faulkner’s shortcoming. As the two agents advance until they are only a meter from the target, Faulkner’s features dissolve into content placidity.

This time in English, he asks, “Hello, nice to meet you. I am Agent Faulkner. My associate here is Agent Dickinson. Mr. Jamal Bernard Jackson, correct? May we have a bit of your time?”

[canonicallysoulmates]

Jensen made his third appearance on Rosenbaum’s podcast. If you have not watched it, I will leave a link at the end of this post to where you can do so; something to keep in mind is that this was not recently filmed. This podcast may be coming out today yesterday, Jan 18th, but it was done sometime late-September to early October of last year cause this was right before he filmed Rust.

When the interview starts they’re talking about podcasts, and Jensen mentions he had had a meeting the day before with Wondery which is a podcast network because he wanted to get an idea of what’s going on in that space. Rosenbaum, like us, knows that if there was to be an spn podcast it should be done by j2; he mentions how he and Tom Welling have thought about doing a podcast where they watch Smallville episodes and give commentary, and he thinks that’s something Jared and Jensen could do.

As y’all will remember Jensen actually did attempt to do something like that back in 2020; as a quick recap for those that don’t remember or know, the idea was that Jensen and D would watch fan favorite episodes and give commentary on them with guest stars. Jensen mentions this and says how they had even shot a “pilot” for this thing and CW and TNT liked it and they wanted to do 10 episodes of it but it would have been too much work while also having to take care of the kids so they declined. Not mentioned is something he allegedly said during a Denvercon meet and greet - which happened a month or maybe less after this was filmed - which is that while WB liked what they saw they didn’t want to pay for it, if they continued forward Jensen and D would have been doing the whole thing for free.

Also when Jensen is talking about this, he makes mention of the fact that D has not seen a lot of SPN, which I don’t know about y’all but that’s not what I want to hear about a person who is partially in charge of putting together and running a whole show that’s a prequel to it and Jensen tries to excuse it by saying that she has 3 kids to look after- sir, we all know she has nannies come up with something better.

They move on to talk about his early days in the business when he was in daytime soaps, and Rosenbaum says how terrifying he finds the idea of doing one because he thinks they film 4-6 episodes a day, and sometimes there’s 30 pages of dialogue, he asks Jensen if that info is correct. To which Jensen replies that it might have changed since he’s been in a Soap opera but from what he remembers its an episode a day but the ep scripts are at least 60 pages with lots of dialogue. And you essentially only get one take per scene; he once did 12 scenes in one hour of filming. x

They continue down his catalog of work, talking a bit about Dark Angel. Specifically, Rosenbaum wanted to know if Jessica Alba was cool to work with; Jensen says no, that she was horrible and he has told her that to her face. Reason being that he was the new guy on set and she would pick on him, one time saying in front of the whole crew “oh here’s the pretty boy the network brought in for more window dressing” and he didn’t stay quiet he snapped back and said “I guess we’re dealing with Bitch Alba today” and from then on they would bicker a lot on set but they build a mutual respect; Jensen compares their bickering to the type siblings do and he acknowledges and understands she was under a lot of pressure at the time and was in a stressful relationship. He also says there were moments when for example he would keep her company at her house when her boyfriend was away cause she would get scared by herself, and that she was there for him when his grandfather passed away- he passed while Jensen was shooting this show - that she went to his trailer and just held him. x

He has good memories of Dawnson’s Creek. Rosenbaum asked if he noticed any toxicity while he was on the set cause this is a show that is said to have been a toxic workplace but Jensen responds that by the time he joined the show things had calmed down, he got along with pretty much everyone. He shared a little anecdote about Michelle Williams. On one of their days off she asked him what he was doing and invited him to a record shop where she picked up a couple of different CD’s for him to listen to which he did and from then on they would have wonderful conversations. x

Rosenbaum has been asked this a lot and he’s sure so has Jensen but he asks anyways if when he saw the SPN pilot he thought the show would last as long as it did; Jensen replies he remembers thinking it was a great script, and then seeing the Pilot and getting picked up he thought they might get three seasons out of it. Some of the things he loved most about the show is Dean but also the world which was dark and not bound by reality. x

He tells a story he’s shared before at cons about the time he and Jared switched lines. Saying it was Jared’s brilliant idea 🥰

Asked about the divided feelings there are about the series finale and what happens to the character of Dean, Jensen is very diplomatic and says he doesn’t think there’s a wrong opinion about it, he himself has spent time in both camps. When the episode was first pitched to him he struggled with the idea of Dean dying and Sam continuing on, he always thought it would either be Sam sacrificing himself or them going out together but then after he contacted Kripke about it and Kripke explained why he thought it would be a great ending it put things in perspective for him and then he was fully on board. Which is something Jensen has shared before; Rosembaum asked if he cried when it ended to which Jensen said no because he wasn’t sad, he was emotional but proud. x

There was this exchange:

Rosenbaum: So you didn’t tear up in the last scene with Jared? ‘This is our last scene together’. You didn’t switch lines? Give each other a kiss?

Jensen: *laughs* no we had- well he had his hand in my pants but that was below frame.

No comment 😏

And thus we arrive at the part of the interview where he talks about the prequel and yes that includes talking about what happened with Jared because Rosenbaum directly asked him about it; Jensen says what some of us already knew: that the prequel was on a need to know basis for no other reason than superstition, that it was still very early on when Deadline found out. He says he was on set when he found out that Deadline was going to release the information and he kept getting calls from higher ups that he had to write something up, but he’s the new guy on set and they don’t do cellphones and actors stay on set so to make calls you have to go back to the trailer which is slightly frowned upon so he comes up with a little blurb he can send out and get back to work. In the whole mess of things he doesn’t think about the people he had yet to tell he was scrambling to do what the network told him so he could get back to work, and he doesn’t realize what has happened until he gets another opportunity to go back to his trailer which is when he looks at his notifications and sees a long text message Jared has send him upset, which is when his heart sank.

I acknowledge that for some this will be new information but for a good portion of us this is what was shared at the leaked Denvercon M&G.

But he also shared that he wishes that Jared had called him instead of making the tweet but he understands and told Jared that his feelings are valid, and admits he messed up and should have told him or at least clued him in on it. And Jared understood when Jensen explained things to him. Jensen also said that Jared was the person he was most excited to tell with his mother being the second. x

The way Rosenbaum says ‘really? 🤨’ when Jensen told him what the prequel was about 😂

It’s interesting, Rosenbaum asks “so you’re not even gonna be in it?” about the prequel to which Jensen replies no but he doesn’t mention he’s going to be the narrator.

When this was filmed Jensen was slated to direct ep 7 of Walker, which as we now know didn’t happen, but Rosenbaum wanted to know how that came about if he was just asked to do it, and Jensen said “Yeah. Jared was like, 'I know somebody I trust’ so he went and he’s the big man on campus there”. He also says Jared has confided in him a few times about his work load as both EP and lead actor ❤

A little bit of talk about his role as Batman, he again says how it was a childhood bucket dream to be able to do it. He mentions how the project came to be, he had already done voice over work for DC as Red Hood so when he got the call that they wanted him back for another Batman feature he thought it was going to be as Red Hood and that’s when they told him he was getting the upgrade. And then he did a little of his Bruce Wayne/Batman voice x

He said he had more product for his beard when shooting The Boys than what he had for the rest of his body 😂 But the beard is not something he had for the whole time he filmed, that the story is they find his character in sort of captivity and he looks like a castaway but they clean him up and he gets his superhero outfit back.

How he got his role in The Boys is because he had called Kripke to get his permission for the Winchester prequel and at the end of the conversation he jokingly told Kripke that SPN was gonna wrap up soon, he was going to be unemployed so whenever he was ready for him to go over to The Boys to let him know and Kripke said he’d write him a role if it was something Jensen really wanted to do which he did; then Kripke remembered that at that time there actually was a role available which was Soldier Boy so he send Jensen the material, Jensen loves it but they have to convince Sony who was looking at bigger names for the role. So he had to send in an audition tape, and he practiced with Kripke’s help who gave him notes on it. In the man’s own words: he had to work for it, he didn’t just get called and offered the job, he had to earn it. And he is in the whole season and says the door is not closed on him coming back as Soldier Boy that it all depends on how it’s cut together. x

Says there is a DC property that he is developing with WB and some other partners which he has his fingers crossed for x

The podcast ends with some rapid fire questions. We’ll go through some of them:

His favorite part about working on The Boys? Getting to play a different character in a different world, and being around different creative people.

Favorite storyline of spn? The storyline of the brothers and what they go through is what the show is built on so it’s the most important and most favorite of all. But of the peripheral storylines one he enjoyed and wishes they could have played with more was Dean in Purgatory cause it was so different.

The most afraid he’s ever been? He goes with the first thing that popped into his head and it’s 9/11. He was in Vancouver at the time and he was terrified, wanting to go home and be with his family.

It’s not a long interview, only about an hour or so, and it's a lot we've heard before; also at a difference from his last two appearances on the podcast where among talk about his projects he opens up about himself this one was very career focused- I’ve said this before that something I like about Rosenbaum’s podcast is that it feels like you’re watching two friends talking and this still had that feeling but it was two friends going through the other one’s IMDB page. No shade intended I just don’t have another way to describe it. Personally, I like his past appearances more but to be fair they probably shot this in a time crunch, there was a point where Jensen looked at his watch and he said twice that after he finished he had to go film a movie so he probably finished this, said his goodbyes and was on his way to the airport.

Jensen on Michael Rosenbaum's podcast Jan 18th, 2022

[mistymark]

the one with the feelings [1.5] // m.k.l

mark lee x reader // 2.2k words // part 1.5/2 // female identifying!reader (she/her)

read part 1 (y/n’s story) here

October 2012, age 13

Mark doesn't remember much of his first kiss. He was 13, and it was during a rather unenjoyable PE lesson. He'd been staring at a girl in his class (he can't even remember her name) for about thirty minutes straight, and his partner had grown bored of him. Fair enough; Mark really couldn't care less about throwing a ball back and forth.

Somehow, he ended up beneath the bleachers, sitting on a wooden bench with rusty nails poking out of it. The girl, whoever she was, sat beside him, and he remembers the way she brushed her leg against his.

There was a flash of light from the curtain leading out of the bleachers, and they both looked at it expectantly. Mark waited for the PE teacher to demand they come out from under the bleachers immediately, and get back to throwing a basketball back and forth with their partners.

But that didn't happen.

And apparently that just made mystery girl more eager to kiss him, because as soon as he turned his head back to her, she pushed her face forward. Her nose collided with his, and Mark was pretty sure she was screwing up her face the whole 0.3 seconds that the kiss lasted.

It's not exactly his favourite memory.

February 2014, age 14

Mark developed his first crush when he was 14. Maybe when he turned 14. It could have been, because that was when he saw you wearing a dress for the first time - or at least, that's the first time he remembers seeing you in a dress. It was quite a horrid shade of bright blue, with black lace around the waist and black buttons. Even you joke about how bad that dress was, years afterward.

But even in that horrid dress, fourteen year old Mark thought you looked beautiful.

At your first school dance, Mark wanted to ask you to be his date. He never did. It was freshman year, and no one asked anyone to be their date. He turned up in a suit that was too big for him, and he spent most of the time standing near the pizza table with his friends.

When he finally gathered enough courage to speak to you, he grabbed two glasses of sugary punch (he'd seen it in a movie once, and thought it would be classy) and walked over to sit next to you. He deemed it a win that he managed to talk to you for a solid ten minutes without throwing up on your new dance shoes.

Every time the song changed, Mark knew that was his opportunity to ask you to dance. He was acutely aware of the large clock hanging above the door of the gym, the little hand ticking closer and closer to 9pm - when everyone would be shuttled out of the gym to end the dance.

A slow song came on - finally - and with only thirty minutes til the end of the dance, Mark placed his empty on the ground beside his feet and wiped his hands against his pants. "Y/n-"

You're already being asked to dance. By someone else.

Lucas dances with you for the remaining half hour of the dance, and you spend the entire time laughing and talking with him. Making it look easy.

Mark never liked Lucas. He certainly didn't after this.

August 2017, age 18

He doesn't remember much of his 18th birthday. He remembers drinking way too much. He remembers standing on a table and breaking it (he certainly remembers the lecture he got from his parents the morning after). He remembers kissing a really pretty girl. He remembers looking for you, wanting to tell you about the kiss. He remembers the texts you sent him the next day.

He doesn't remember kissing you.

December 2017, age 18

The little box sits in his lap the entire car ride to your house. He'd found the little bracelet in a box of his things up in the attic back in September, and he thought it would be nice to give it to you for Christmas. You never bought each other Christmas gifts - your parents usually just bought something and you would each write your names on the card.

His dad's eyes met his in the rearview mirror, "What do you keep playing with back there?"

Mark has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Nothing - something for Y/n." He doesn't miss the knowing look his mum shoots his dad.

He's thankful to get out of the car, and jumps out pretty much as soon as his dad slows down. He helps his mum retrieve a tray of dessert from the boot and hands it to his dad, and they begin to walk up the driveway. It takes Mark a second to realise he forgot the one thing he'd been hyper fixated on the entire car ride.

"Don't lock it yet!" He quickly opens the back door to retrieve the little black box.

He sees you talking to his parents, dressed in a comfy turtleneck sweater and a thick blanket over your legs as you swing on the porch swing. Thankfully, they open the front door and head inside before he gets there.

He hasn't seen you in a month, and there's so much he wants to say, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is "Hey."

You smile, "Hey."

Swallowing thickly, he turns to look at your house. He hopes his voice doesn't shake as he says, "The place looks great. New door?"

You give him an amused laugh, "New door."

"Looks good," he shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. His fingers graze the little box in his pocket.

"I haven't seen you in, like, a month and all you have to say is that my door looks good?"

"It's not the only thing," he says, half under his breath. Finally removing his hands from his pockets, he pulls the box into view. "I got you something."

Instantly, his eyes gauge your reaction. Has he overstepped? Is this too much? Are you going to like it?

"You - what? No, Mark, you didn't have to!" You look down at your lap. "I didn't get you anything."

He shrugs. "Oh, come on. It's not a big deal," he assures you. "It's nothing big, I promise."

You stared at the box in his hands with an almost animalistic hunger in your eyes, making Mark laugh. He finally hands it to you, and you open it within a millisecond, "It's - wow! It's the friendship bracelet I made you ages ago!"

"Yeah, when we were nine," Mark smiles. You remembered.

You pull a face, exaggerating your pout, "Is this you returning my gift? You don't want to be friends anymore?" Not really, Mark almost says.

"No!" Mark's hand wraps around yours. "I thought - I thought you'd like it. I found it a few weeks ago."

"I can't believe you kept it. All these years." You sound stunned.

He shrugs, though his heart is pounding in his chest, "It's no big deal."

When you wrap your arms around him in a giant hug, he hesitates for a second, before he returns the hug, "Thank you. I love it." I love you.

January 2018, age 18

"Kissing you." the worst New Years Eve Mark has ever had. Worse even than last year, when Hendery threw up on his feet at Johnny's party. You're here. At this party. And Mark knows approximately two people here, and he's been here for two hours and hasn't even seen you.

A friend of a friend invited him to this party. Its hosted by some guy Mark doesn't know. But when you texted him a few days ago asking him what his plans for New Years Eve were, and he found out you were also going to be at this party, he didn't even hesitate to accept the invitation.

He's never told you how he feels about you. Never acted on his feelings. And he's decided it wouldn't be worth it to tell you now. Not with you moving than he already does. Since you moved to a different high school, you only really see each other at family events and the rare party. And you'll be going to different colleges, which meant you would no longer be a thirty minute drive away. You'll be at least three hours away. He checked on Google Maps.

He's never told you how he feels about you. Never acted on his feelings. And he's decided it wouldn't be worth it to tell you now. Not with you moving - that would just be unfair. Even if you felt the same way, you'd have to start your relationship with long distance.

No. He missed his chance. He has to accept that.

When the countdown begins, Mark finally sees you in the lounge room, standing in front of the TV. You'd always loved watching the ball drop, even when you were kids. He should have known to look for you here.

By the time he's pushed his way through the crowd, party poppers are going off, the ball is dropping, people all around him are kissing their partners. He shouldn't be as happy as he is about the fact that you're not kissing anyone. Just laughing and cheering along with everyone else.

He taps you on the shoulder, but someone behind him falls into him, pushing his body closer to yours. "Hey. Happy New Year." He knows his voice sounds breathier, but he reasons it's likely due to the alcohol. Nothing else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back, and Mark can't help himself from glancing down at your lips. "Any kisses this year?"

Despite the volume at which you'd muttered the question, Mark made it out perfectly. You'd lined it up perfectly.

"Only one." And he kissed you. He made sure he'd remember this one.

When you pulled away, he couldn't get a read on your face. But he knew he was smiling. "What was that for?"

"I just had to know what it was like."

"What what was like?"

"Kissing you." And maybe he should have, but he didn't regret it.

February 2018, age 18

[2:47pm] Mark: got any plans this afternoon?

[2:50pm] You: not really, just packing the last of my stuff

[2:50pm] Mark: wdym?

[2:50pm] You: for college dummy

[2:51pm] You: I leave in two weeks remember

[2:51pm] You: gotta be ready :))

[2:52pm] Mark: ofc I cant believe I forgot

[2:52pm] Mark: must be bc im gonna miss you ://

[2:52pm] You: oh shut up ur such a drama queen

[2:53pm] Mark: bc ur not dramatic enough!!

[2:53pm] Mark: im not gonna see you in forever

[2:53pm] You: I’m literally going to be at ur brothers engagement party what is wrong with you

[2:54pm] Mark: I hate talking to you im gonna go pack

[2:55pm] Mark: promise you’ll be there?

[2:57pm] You: of course

April 2018, age 18

He was supposed to be happy for his brother. It was an engagement party after all. But the way Mark was pacing back and forth outside the dining room of the Grand Wyatt Hotel, you'd think it was he was having cold feet at his own wedding. He couldn't really enjoy the party. Not while you might be mad at him.

Mark had hardly heard from you since you moved. It was just classes, and social activities, and getting adjusted to the new city, you'd said.

More importantly, you had a boyfriend. You'd had a boyfriend since November. Mark had kissed you while you were in a relationship with someone else. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He felt like shit.

He felt even more like shit when you didn't text him back for a while after New Years. You were busy sorting things out with your boyfriend, he guessed.

The last time he'd heard from you was two months ago, in February. He'd asked you if you were coming to the engagement party. You said you were, but it was now almost 7pm and you were still nowhere to be seen.

"Mark, sweetie," his mother called him from inside the dining room. The room itself was beautiful, but he could hardly stand still in there. And there were too many people inside to pace around comfortably.

"This is Rosie, she's the sister of the maid of honour. She goes to your college, too!" It takes all of three seconds for his mother to disappear from the conversation after Mark says hi.

"You're the sister of the maid of honour?"

"You and I are both wondering why I'm here," she jokes.

"I've been wondering the same thing about myself," Mark says under his breath.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, and then glances at the door. "Do you wanna get out of here?"

"Fuck, yes."

[fighterkimburgess]

idt they slept 2gether in 7x19/7x20. the every 6 months or so is prob abt last time they slept 2gether b4 she got pregs. wk they slept 2gether in 7x04 & maybe more after that bc adam told kevin “we hung out a couple of times” & wdk how much time pass each eps. 7x19/7x20 they were both still sad abt miscarriage & wouldnt want to risk getting pregs again. kim said to adam “dont wk better than this” in 8x05 bc last time she got pregs. she wouldnt have said that if they slept 2gether in 7x19/7x20.

So I did the maths on this timeline, because I am an idiot and ridiculous in the best way. Here’s as close as I can get to an approximate timeline between 7x04 and 8x05. Again, this is the Chicago verse and they hate good timelines but here we go.

7x04 - sometime roughly early September. It’s still warm enough for tailgating in Chicago, and that football season started September 5th that year. The Bears played at home on September 15th to the Broncos, which would fit right around when we know this would have kicked off. It was also their first home game of the season, explaining tailgating. The crossover ran the space of three days I think? Based on people changing clothes? So Kim and Adam slept together some time around the 18th/19th

7x05 - picks up nearly immediately because in Adam and Kevin’s conversation about the coffee you cannot tell me that Adam Ruzek is not stride of priding through work. I’m sorry, you can’t. The man is oozing “just got laid”.

7x08 - Kim finds out she’s pregnant. She’s told she’s about four weeks, which puts this at the end of September/start of October. Pregnancy is counted from the date of your last period, so four weeks pregnant tends to mean it’s two weeks since conception. Considering the way it’s gotten visibly colder in the “Jay’s missing” episode, I’d go with first week of October.

7x11 - Kim’s had the first sonogram, and judging from the sonogram images we’re hitting right around nine, ten weeks of pregnancy, so mid November and two months since they slept together.

7x13 - Kim says the baby’s the size of a naval orange. According to thebump.com (yeah, I know, but this is the sources I’ve got), a foetus is the size of a naval orange at around fifteen weeks, putting us at the start of January or so. Which makes sense based on the weather, and that Kim isn’t looking as exhausted as before. We know from 8x13 that she really struggled with morning sickness, and generally around week 12/13/14 is when that stops.

7x15 - we can fairly firmly place this to early/mid February. The weather, the fact that Kim’s back in work and her visible injuries are healed, she’s been gone for about a month. Plus the way she and Adam have the fight? He’s been working and attempting to cope, but she’s been at home thinking.

7x16 - the hockey tickets. This doesn’t definitively place everything, but it’s probably coming into what would have been the tail end of the season, I’m comfortable marking this as late February/early March (from here the pandemic is fucking up my timelines but they treated the season like the end happened in April so I’m doing that too)

8x03 - this is roughly November/December, we can see it based on the Christmas decorations in the back of the upstead kiss. Adam says they go to the same bars, they don’t see anyone, they don’t date anyone, so I’m pretty comfortable saying they slept together at least once while they were covid bubbling. They both ostensibly live alone, it made sense to bubble together.

8x05 - I’m calling this for January. There’s no Christmas stuff up, it’s clearly cold out, and even without the snow you can tell it’s chilly. We know it’s about a month since Makayla’s cousins took custody too.

In 8x05 Kim says “so is this part of our relationship now? We’re accepting that every six months or so we sleep together?” It’s been at least eighteen months since they slept together in 7x04. It’s nearly a year since she lost the baby. Kim Burgess isn’t going to say “every six months or so” if it’s not at the very least a pattern. Maybe it wasn’t around 7x19/20, but they definitely did sleep together at least once between then and 8x05, and I will say that till the end.