#me watching someone read an entire book in 48 hours when they never even opened the 1000 word email attachment they told me i could

[confessionalhuman]

there is no quicker way to get your feelings hurt than to be a sensitive creative person and share what you've created

[good-rwbyaus]

How does Yang react to the rumors her lil sis has become a professor

Perspective :: Yang // Becoming - mod lilac [ main chapter ] [ P: Weiss ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// this perspective piece was harder to write than I thought. also trollpin - lilac

---

“I’ll be sure to set aside an office for you, Professor,” the Headmaster spoke with mirth as he and Ruby spoke at Beacon’s courtyard, watching the students arrive for orientation. 

“Stop calling me that! I just wanted to know if students could have their own private rooms!” Ruby stomped on the ground.

“Students, no. Professors, well...” 

“Argggh!” 

Yang was treated to the sight of her normally shy, bubbly sister hopping up and down angrily, pointing impolitely at the man that’ll soon be their Headmaster. Ruby’s uncharacteristic actions shocked her brain so thoroughly that she needed a moment to reboot.   

“Wait! Yang?!” Ruby exclaimed upon spotting her.

“Hey, Ruby.” Yang replied dazedly before internally wincing at her unenthusiastic-sounding response - too shocked from her sister’s prior actions. 

Luckily though, Ruby didn’t notice anything and was in fact enthusiastic enough for the both of them. Her sister’s eyes lighting up was the only warning she got before she felt Ruby pounce onto her, the other girl wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“You made it!” Ruby happily said, “I missed you!” 

Yang couldn’t help but hug her back smiling, not quite sure what’s made the other girl so affectionate, especially in such a public showy way. 

“I missed you too, sis,” she replied warmly, patting her head. Come to think of it these two months have been the longest they’ve been apart in years. Even when she took mini-missions at Signal to prepare for Beacon, the longest interval was 48 hours. Curious at her sister’s sudden change, she asked, “Yeesh, what happened to you over the past two months?"

"Eh, you know. Landed a blow on my teacher. Got myself blown up a couple times,” Ruby started counting on her fingers, “Got dangled out of a tower. Accidentally made a mess of things when I fought in a real team for the first time. Uhhh, not exactly in that order. “ Ruby scrunched up her face, which made her laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve been having fun,” Yang replied with a grin, though she gave the girl a quick onceover to make she’s truly alright - which it looked like she was.

“Yup. At least when they’re not sticking me in a classroom or hanging out with this old troll here,” Ruby resentfully gave the Headmaster a glare.

Yang choked on her spit at her sister’s audacity.

“What did you say? I’m hard of hearing, Professor Rose,” Ozpin blandly stated, “I think I heard someone asking me that she wanted to have her professorship announced tonight.”

“Don’t you dare!” 

She listened as the two bickered back and forth. Well, more like Ozpin speaking and Ruby reacting. Hearing Ruby talk like this to an authority still frazzled her brain, and it was only Ruby saying something even more unusual that brought her out of her daze.

“And you still won’t tell me their name!” 

“Huh, whose name?” Yang asked reflexively, slightly worried about that little tidbit. Did oblivious-to-everything-but-weapons Ruby find someone she liked? At least someone will share Dad’s overbearingness when she started dating too. Ha. 

“His weapon’s name,” Ruby pointed at the cane Ozpin was holding. “His cane. It’s really something special, but you can’t tell unless you get your hands on it.” She then smugly grinned, “which I managed.”

The Headmaster quirked up an eyebrow before retorting, “you wrapped your hands and legs around it like a sloth and then refused to get off.”

“AND his weapon’s heavier than it looks but in a way I can’t really describe - like something more than physical. And there’s something like a heart ticking away, and it’s been ticking for a long time like an ancient clock,” Ruby said animatedly, her words speeding up with her excitement, “it's like watching one of those films before scroll technology or remembering a long memor-”

Well, at least some things didn’t change - like Ruby’s weapon obsession.

"You know, it’s rude to talk about other people’s weapons without their permission, Prof-” Ozpin cut her off.

“Ah, sorry, Headmaster,” Ruby bowed before lifting her head, “Wait, stop calling me that!” 

She had been so focused on her sister that she missed the Headmaster tightening the grip on his cane and the quickly-hidden shock on his face. 

======================================================

She couldn’t move, her limbs locking under the beady red gaze of the Beowulf in front of her. It lifted its claw into the air, about to deliver its death sentence. 

“Don’t hurt my sis!” A small five year-old ran in front of her, placing herself between the claw and herself.

“Ruby!” 

Somehow, someway, she found the strength to move. She stumbled onto her sister and wrapped her arms tight around her, turning away and preparing to protect the younger girl with her body. To protect her from the consequences of the mess she created. She closed her eyes, prepared for the pain. 

------

Yang groaned and slowly opened her eyes, lifting herself up to look at the other students snoozing around her. Ugh, she would have that nightmare again before Initiation started tomorrow. Or was it today? Crap.  

Sleepy eyes shut closed as she flopped back into her sleeping bag, waiting for oblivion to claim her. And for a minute or two, she managed to be still as a rock. 

“Argh. It’s useless.” She sat back up. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

The blonde quickly turned her head towards the raven-haired girl sitting by the windowsill, a book in her hands. Blake. 

“Can’t sleep obviously. What about you?”

“I’m used to staying up at night. I’m reading an interesting book after all,” Blake replied cheekily. 

Yang snorted, given that Blake had used that excuse to ignore her when she first tried to strike up a conversation. 

“The Schnee Dust Company’s heir seems to have taken a liking to your sister,” Blake said casually, “If it were me, I’d treat it as a bad thing, but I guess it’s good to have someone's backing.”

“Nah. I was listening in on that conversation. The moment that girl spoke about having an expert maintain her weapon was the moment she lost Ruby entirely,” she laughed. 

The scathing look Ruby gave the Schnee Heiress could’ve peeled paint. If there was an equivalent of a horse whisperer for weapons, it was Ruby. But as much as Ruby had disdain for those who didn’t respect their weapons, she wouldn’t show it - at least the Ruby of two months ago. She would’ve buried it deep inside and just be happy with the fact that someone was talking to her. 

Yang sighed. 

“...Ruby. She’s changed so much.”

“How so?” Blake inquired, closing her book shut. 

“Hmm. Why so curious?” Yang pouted, holding her heart, “Especially when you didn’t want to hear anything about little old me?”

“Well, the opportunity to learn more about Beacon’s youngest professor is hard to pass up,” Blake then added playfully, “don’t worry. You’re still interesting.”  

“I thought the professor thing was a joke,” Yang said in confusion, “Isn’t it?”

Was it though? She never heard Ruby outright deny it, just requested vehemently that the Headmaster not publicly announce it. Huh.

“I thought so too, but Ruby’s a bit special, isn’t she? Early entry to Beacon, taking solo missions, acting super casual with the Headmaster,” Blake replied, looking over at her, “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“I don’t think she is? I mean she would’ve told me, her sister - but...” Yang hesitated, “she’s changed a lot in the past two months. It’s like I don’t recognize my own sister anymore.” She grimaced, running a hand through her blonde bangs, “Ever felt that way about someone you’ve known for a long time and then bam what happened?”

Blake glanced outside the window and into the starry sky. 

“Yeah, I know a bit about that... But what about your sis? Might as well get it off your mind,” Blake sat crosslegged, staring expectantly and sincerely, clearly ready to listen.

With some hesitation, she glanced over at the sleeping girl several tables over with the Schnee girl sleeping a couple sleeping bags over, not quite ready to give up trying to recruit her. Good luck, brat.  

“Well my sis didn’t really have friends at Signal. She’s a loner but not really by choice. She tried so hard to fit in, but she never really clicked with anyone. No one really understood her or made the effort to.” Yang trailed off guiltily, “Maybe that’s why she could make the decision to come to Beacon so easily, because she had no one.” 

“I... I kinda expected I would have to give her a pep talk when I came here,” Yang admitted, “because Beacon required its members to form a team, even more so than Signal. I thought I would have to cheer my sis on about how she’ll find the right team but also telling her that I can’t be her partner and she needs to learn how to work with others.”

“But instead I see a confident girl who no longer seems afraid to let others know who she is. I see a fish in water. I see someone who’s found their place in life and is holding onto it with her own two hands. And also apparently making small talk and arguing with our Headmaster till she’s red in the face. Ugh, I don’t even know if she’s a professor. ” 

“Wait, so you seriously don’t know if your sister’s a professor?”

“Is that the only thing you took out of this?” Yang dropped her jaw, appalled, “I just poured my heart out to you, Blake! You have to take responsibility.”

The ebony-haired girl flushed wonderfully at her choice of words before grumpily rebutting, “W-who asked you to do that?”

A moment of silence passed between them, neither of them knowing what to say. 

It was Blake who broke the silence. “I think...you’re just having complicated feelings on seeing your younger sister grow up. I mean you seem like a good older sister, so you’ve probably protected Ruby all this time. And now that she no longer needs your protection, you probably feel a bit lost but also a bit of pride too.”

“Huh,” Yang blinked several times pondering what Blake said for a couple seconds, and then she smiled, a bittersweet feeling in her heart, “I think you’re right. I’m happy she’s grown up, but I also kinda miss the girl who’d cry when her weapon would go missing. Haha.” 

She then gazed playfully at Blake, “Oh Blake, why are you so wise?”

“Eh, I read it in a fortune cookie once,” Blake deadpanned without missing a beat.

“Ugh, and somehow my reverence for you has been lost,” Yang sighed before smiling, “But seriously, thanks for listening. Do you... Well... I heard you mentioned someone that you feel the same way about?”

Blake paused before shaking her head. 

“Ah, sorry. It’s a long story, and it’s late, and...” Blake said before adding in a dramatic baritone, “you haven’t progressed enough on the Blake Belladonna social link to know about that yet.” She stuck her tongue out before turning over to the side to go to bed.

“Oh come on! Pour your heart out to me now!” Yang said dramatically but upon seeing no response from the other girl, she snorted, “Fine. I’ll get to bed, and I’ll totally unlock more of the Blake storyline in the future. Does it end in romance at least?”

“Ugh. I’m not dignifying that with an answer. Good night, Yang.”

Yang laughed. 

-------

“And now even my sister thinks I’m a professor!” Ruby wailed at Headmaster Ozpin, pointing a finger back at her. Yang could only give the Headmaster an apologetic grin - probably should’ve asked Ruby in a more subtle way - as Ruby ranted on, “And no one else believes me when I deny it. That’s your fault!” Ruby groused.  

“Don’t worry, Miss Rose. I’ll be sure to do something about the rumors this evening,” the Headmaster spoke warmly, “You can walk back to your seat and see how I resolve this.”

As soon as Ruby sat down, Ozpin stood up tapping his glass with the back of his fork. All the students fell into silence upon noticing who was making the commotion, and all the attention quickly fell on him.

“Ah-hem. I have an announcement to make,” Ozpin spoke calmly, “I would just like to say that Ruby Rose is not a professor at Beacon. The fact she is on a first name basis with all your professors or participated in a mysterious extracurricular activity two months prior to her entry to Beacon is completely irrelevant,” Ozpin continued on before pausing briefly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “And I suppose the fact she graduated from Signal two years early is also not that important. That and her impeccable display with her team during Initiation. Alright, that is all. ”

The man glanced over at Ruby, his gaze clearly asking ‘are you happy?’ to the girl.

Ruby only beamed happily in satisfaction.  

Oh my god. 

Ruby was right. 

Ozpin is a troll. 

And she could only facepalm at Ruby’s complete obliviousness to the fact that Ozpin’s wishy-washy way of explaining things probably made things a lot worse. 

Well, at least no one is going to call Ruby Professor to her face now. 

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.  

[kerwritesthings]

South Of The Equator

Summary: Gestures of love are woven in the fabric of relationships, especially ones built around the priority of your love

Word Count: literally juuuuust shy of 5.8k

Warning: pining, love and fluff

Author Notes: Muse fell in love with this photo last week when Bre threw it out onto my dash, spit out stupid notes at midnight that night for it along with about 350ish words and then didn’t touch it until again yesterday evening where I proceeded to crank out about 5.8k in less than 24 hours. Oops?

This falls well later into the verse, like the latest I’ve taken it thus far. It just felt right to bring this into that part of the timeline with the premise and where the muse was taking this. Can be read as a standalone but diving into the verse and the masterlist would give a little bit more understanding.

It was not in the plans. Whatsoever. A whim. A lot of longing. A lot of missing connections. A lot of feeling that this was a sync you just wouldn’t be able to get. That scares the both of you, more than either of you will let on especially to the other. You both promise that this would be the longest stretch on this very last swing – something like 48 or 50 days depending on travel for both of you, that a somewhere between 12 and 14-hour plane ride at best for a long weekend made no sense. You’re in Bucharest when he starts the swing in Mexico. What was thought to be a few days off for him to come home to see you between the last Mexico show and the venture further south becomes non-existent, with surprise pop up concerts in both Costa Rica and Panama along with hoopla surrounding them on either side that the label drops last minute. You initially think you’d be able to make the last shows, but there was a potential work trip to Hong Kong hanging over your head, so you both agree not book anything.

Well, love makes you do some stupid and irresponsibly crazy things. When the Asia client pushes their timeline back, things change completely. Which is why you find yourself on the phone, trying to make arrangements while juggling 7 open browser tabs on your laptop at nearly 1am. This is what you do for each other. It’s been established. It’s been done for each other on numerous occasions throughout your relationship. But it’s never been something like this. This grand and involved.

“Up for a bit of a challenge?” you start. “What’s the actual schedule like between Buenos and Rio and Santiago?”

“Flip it around. Chile first. Then Buenos then Sao Paulo. Finish off in Rio,” Beatriz laughs. “Don’t book the wrong flight. Cause. This is where it’s going isn’t it? This bugger is so lucky to have you. He best appreciate this. He’s been whiny. More to Cez then me. Andrew too, but he trusts Cez more when it comes to you.”

“He’s not the only one,” you sigh. “Dee’s taken to sending me videos and photos of Tali every day before I call to bitch to her to try to ease my tension. We’ve done longer, when we first got together. This one though. We’re just not taking it well, either of us. It feels off. He can’t come to me, so I have to go to him.”

“There’s doubles now in Santiago, not just in Buenos and Rio. Only the one in Sao Paulo. Days off scattered through, but definitely some between the city jumps. Are you really going to try to do just a weekend down here?” she asks.

“Work remote if I can swing it. Then bank out on some time off. I’m due after the extra hours to lock in the Danish project and the haul to Bucharest for basically a 48-hour lookie loo from them with no commitments. Boss lady is great as long as my work gets done and I don’t pull the ask for ‘but my famous boyfriend’ very often, if at all,” you explain, poking away at the keys of your laptop.

“Ooh Denmark, so you going to get out for that one?” Beatriz questions. “Do you have a lam for this tour? Should we get you another?”

“I think I can, timing looks ok and I may be able to drag Shawn with me for once since it’s after all this hoopla,” you mutter, poking at Kayak and cursing. “I think I do, snag one just in case if it’s not too much trouble. It looks like Air Canada has a direct from Pearson to Santiago at 11 hours of flight time and an overnight red-eye. Bless it. No layovers. Less chance for him to even let on. Y’all can sneak me in on the flights between yeah?”

“Shawn is gonna shit you know this right?” she laughs. “I heard about your surprises you both have pulled on each other before, but this is something else. Duh girl, yes of course. He’d have you sit on his lap the whole flight if he had to, but we definitely have the room. Give me the flight info. I’ll make Cez book it. Do not even think about clicking that buy button that I know you’re hovering over.”

“Bea...” you begin.

“No, not hearing it. Cez blocked out travel budget for him to go home and you know that didn’t happen, so your flight there and then back with him at the end it is instead,” Beatriz interjects. “I’ll loop in C for sure. Maybe Andrew. Less folks who know the better, we need to keep this on lock down.”

“Beatriz, you’re the best. I owe you big time. I’m so glad you’re on this rag tag motley crew,” you thank her. “Let Cez know if he needs anything when he’s booking, if they don’t have it saved to just let me know.”

“Bottle of Bulleit and you finally spill the recipe for those kitchen sink bars the boys are always raving about and inhaling, we’ll call it even,” she deadpans. “But no really, I’m glad to help. As much as I tease that boy of yours, I’ve got a soft spot for him. We need to figure an epic reveal. It’s late. I’ll fire off a text to Cez and we’ll be on it tomorrow. Off with you. Night!”

You have a week between that call and your flight down to get all your things in order luckily. Work is understanding and accommodating, your boss practically sending out the out of office email for you after she hears your plans. He meanwhile has a few shows in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia ahead of him within that same time frame.

“There’s that face I adore,” you smile through FaceTime as you’re tucked in bed, two nights before you’re due to leave. “Hi you. How was the show? Where are you now?”

“Just out of the shower in the hotel and about to fall face first into bed, but I needed a dose of my pretty girl before I do,” he exhales, running a hand though his mess of wet curls. “Good, crowds down here are something else. Beyond the first time I swung through, on the last tour. And them singing back in perfect English still breaks my brain a little. Tired though. Looking forward to the break. Day break here, then like a half one off in Santiago before the last few shows. It’s so crazy to think we’re there already.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” you murmur. “You did it baby, an entire circle of the globe. I’m beyond proud of you.”

“As much as I love this, I’m ready for just me, you and our bed. At least for a week straight, if not a few of them,” he chuckles. “Remind me of how tired I am now when I start to say I’m twitchy or bored, ok?”

“If you say so,” you say sleepily. “Just remember, I get to drag you with me on some my work trips next. Denmark for sure. Hong Kong perhaps since that’s still a moving target. Maybe Prague. Wanna be a silly romantic tourist with you for a bit. Just me and you”

“Always me and you, sweetheart. Go get some sleep. You’ve got work in the morning,” he whispers. “We can talk more tomorrow, promise.”

“You sure?” you fight back a yawn, eyes starting to flutter. “Can you sing to me though? Please? I miss you. Be like you’re here.”

He starts humming at first, the eases into a slowed down, Shawn-esque version of Sam Smith’s Latch. You want to stay awake to hear the whole thing, but he sounds like he’s there singing it right into your ear while he’s got your back against his chest. It’s so pretty, easy and dream like that you drift off in moments. He watches you for a few minutes after he finishes the song, making sure you’re truly asleep. Plus, he just wants to feel like he’s next to you in bed.

“Goodnight and sleep well, baby,” he whispers before disconnecting from FaceTime, a small smile slipping across his lips.

“He still has no clue by the way, so you’ve done a bang-up job,” Cez explains as he rings you while you’re in the car on the way to Pearson. “You’re still running on time from what we checked so you’re good. We’ve got everything square. Bea will come snag you from the airport, you’ll have time to hit the hotel, she’ll have the extra room key for you so you can get some actual rest and then get ready. Figure we’ll grab you while he’s doing Q&A. Do you want to surprise him before the show? After?”

“During?” you laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest as the car makes its way down the 401. “Maximum effect. Con would be on my side too you know, epic footage.”

“Of course, you do,” he retorts. “I should have known. Don’t forget, I’m on your side too. I’m glad this worked. I know it’s been a long stretch. For the both of you. I’ve seen it wear on him, but he’s put up a good front minus a few nights where he ends up with me until he needs to get to sleep, just needing someone who understands to talk to.”

“I’m glad he has you, that we both have you. You are a gift, Cez, really,” you reply as the car slows to ease up to the terminal. “I’m just about to hop out. I’ll text you and Bea when I land in the morning, customs will probably take a bit to get through. Thank you again.”

“Fly safe, dear. Try to get some rest and we’ll see you tomorrow,” he responds.

Check in was easy, of course they went above and beyond on the flight. You text Cez and Bea a photo of a cookie from the lounge with your ticket telling them they did not need to and thanking them. Cez responds first.

Again, you know if he found out we flew you like in row 24 on a flight that long, he would pitch a fit. I’m not up for a Shawn fit this late into the last of the last legs of tour. Enjoy the space and the lay flat. Sunshine and that boy awaits you.

Beatriz chimes in next.

Label owes you and the pain in the arse, so enjoy it! Have one for me. I’ll be there for you tomorrow with bells on and a tea in hand. Cannot wait for this – so epic. You two are nauseatingly adorbs.

The flight wasn’t crowded thankfully and the room to stretch fully is a welcome bonus. You are able to wind down a lot easier than expected and get a decent amount of sleep especially given it was on a flight, lay flat or not. Despite an extra circle, you land only a few minutes past your initial arrival time, make it through customs quickly and thankfully your luggage is waiting for you once you’re done.

“There she is,” Beatriz calls out as you head out to the open concourse. “And in one piece too with all your bits and bobbles. Good, the boss won’t be angry. And as promised, your tea!”

“Which one?” you chuckle, snagging the iced chai before hugging her.

“I can handle Cez, your man though,” she rolls her eyes as you walk out to the sprinter van. “He tried you last night when we were coming back from dinner, couldn’t get through even though we all told him it was late. He got all sad puppy. You were just about taking off, so it made sense. If he only knew what today is bringing him. I’ll drop you at the hotel, sleep, shower, eat, do whatever. I’ll be round to grab you about 4.”

As soon as you step into his room, you are overwhelmed just by the sheer sense of being back in his space again, despite him not even being there at the moment. You drop your suitcase, strip and crawl immediately into his still unmade bed to surround yourself in the smell of him. Setting your alarm before you drift off, you curl yourself around his pillow and exhale. Only a few more hours and you’ll be able to wrap your arms around him instead of a goose down that carries whiffs of his scent. A deep breath, an inhale you hold just for a moment before letting it go carefully and you’re drifting away.

You wake shortly before the alarm and to a couple texts from Shawn.

Miss you pretty girl. Almost there.

FaceTime after the show tonight? Even just for a few, I can tuck you in from here again like the other night.

Saw this on the drive over before, couldn’t help but think of you.

It was a slightly angled photo out the car window, but it was of a park with a fountain surrounded by high bushes littered with flowers.

I wish I could press you into those blooms and kiss you. Would make such a pretty picture. Love you baby.

You will yourself not to cry. That sweet, sentimental boy of yours. You’ll have time, you need to make that happen tomorrow.

I miss you sweetheart, so much. Yes to tonight, I’d love a tuck in from you. We’re so close. Love you <3

A shower, some primping and a good battle with both your blow dryer and your travel steamer later, you’re finally ready to head out.

“He’s a lucky bastard this one,” Beatriz whistles before handing over your new credential as you slide the van door closed behind you. “Don’t you have any sisters you can send my way? Cousins?”

“Sorry Bea, only child,” you laugh, as the van pulls away. “Cousins are stateside and not your type.”

“He was happy to hear from you before. Stopped in the middle of sound check to look at his phone. Got all stupid smiley and googly eyed,” she rolls her eyes. “He’s so gone on you if it wasn’t so bloody sweet to see him so gushy, it would make me ill.”

“Just wait ‘till later. I should apologize now,” you explain.

“Why there’s no plans for post-show, dearie. We knew better,” she giggles. “Shawn’s not going to want to share.”

You can’t help but smile as you pass the park he sent you the photo of earlier, it’s prettier than his shot let on. You definitely have to go there tomorrow. From that point, it’s a windy way through the streets of Santiago to the arena.

“He should just be wrapping up,” Beatriz prattles, looking at her watch as you make your way through the bowels of the building. “Which is good, I can sneak you into Cez’s room without him sniffing about. You, he, Jake and Con still need to hash everything out yeah?”

“Kind of. It’s the fine tuning of details at this point,” you say, flipping the pass around in your hands before slipping it around your neck as you walk, still not fully grasping you’re going to see him as soon as you are. “It’s a matter of where to go in the pit during his walk up to stage where I won’t be spotted too easily, but also not be in the way of everything either. I think it’ll work, totally up to Jake though. Worse case, we’ll do it just before rally or he hits the stage. Better visuals, and Con will agree with me, but it’s Jake and Cez who have final call.”

“It’s brilliant, all of it. However, here is where I leave you for now,” Beatriz nudges you through the door into Cez’s makeshift office for the next two days. “Need to make sure the sound techs have everything. Fridge is stocked, so steal what you need. He should be back in a few. They’re due to be walking your man now. His room isn’t far, so stay put. I’ll let C know you’re here. Toodles!”

Shortly after you settle in on the couch, engrossing yourself in your inbox, you feel someone settle down next to you.

“Thank god you’re here, I cannot do the sad Shawn shit anymore,” Connor sighs, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I love him like a brother but damn, this go has been a beast when he’s feeling it like that.”

“Hi Connor, I’ve missed you too Connor, it’s good to see you Connor,” you roll your eyes, pushing his arm off you with a poke.

“Yeah yeah, all that too,” he smiles, sliding his arm back into place and kissing your cheek. “It’s good to have you here, all that aside. Despite all that, missed you around these parts.”

“Considering Central America took away our long weekend together, with no warning. It’s just been a hard go this swing. For both of us. May just be the wear and tear of a tour this long finally hitting. Even with as much as we’ve made it a priority to stay more connected and grounded. You guys are lucky it’s the end and it didn’t happen in like the middle of Europe, or the US leg. Though that would have been easier to get to than an almost 11-hour flight,” you fight out.

“You’re too good for him you know?” he teases. “Remember, he has friends if you ever need to bail.”

“Not any of y’all that’s for sure. No way. And, it’s the other way around, Con,” you reply, poking at his knee. “So, you’ve seen the setup, what’s going to make the most sense?”

“We’re going to do whatever you want, missus,” Jake chimes in as the door shuts behind him and Cez. “Only thing I require is a hug.”

“I think that can be arranged,” you say happily, ducking around Connor to get to Jake. “Con, stop being in the way.”

“Thank you,” you murmur to Jake as he pulls you into an embrace.

“We should be thanking you,” he whispers hugging you tightly. “And seriously. We’ll make it all happen. Kid needs this as much as you do.”

You pull away, smiling. “Ok guys so here’s what I’m thinking. Let’s surprise him on the walk out.”

The details come together quickly as well as easily. You’re happy, the team is comfortable with it all. It also helps he’s not expecting a thing. Everyone’s on board.

“So,” Cez begins, rolling a bottle of water around in his hands as everyone else filters out. “Hop a flight on a whim in the states or Canada is one thing. Cross the pond, a little more effort, but doable. This is something else entirely, even for the two of you.”

“I don’t know why this one is so different; I wish I knew; believe me I do. It would have saved me an 11-hour flight,” you utter. “It’s not like we’ve not done it before. We got through this, worse even, when he went out on last leg of the last tour and I had no leverage to take time off to come out other than that last show. We were only together a little bit at that point.”

Cez smiles his all-knowing smile, looking down at your hands playing with your credential. “I think you do, somewhere in there. I think he does too, well I know he does.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask inquisitively. “We’re good, really good. Minus this blip and it’s just us being a little more emotionally wound together. More in the groove than we’ve ever been. It’s been great, actually.”

He smiles yet again, making you wonder even more, and picks up his hand pointing to a certain finger.

“No,” you shake your head.

He nods, still smiling. “You’re practically there already.  We were honestly all surprised it didn’t happen before tour, or at break. Especially after Japan. I knew though not the holidays, it’s too cliché and not him, or you. He’s asked me a few things, more recently. Won’t give away more than that, but it kind of all makes sense. At least to me.”

“I just. Like. Shit Cez,” you sigh, looking down at the lam in your hands. “We’ve talked about it before, couple times. We want it, both of us. He’s it for me, and vice versa. He knows I’ll say yes. I’ve told him as much. But I’m also not that girl that needs the pretty on her hand to know where we stand in our relationship. He’s also not that overly possessive man who needs to prove he’s got me like that to the world, even in his crazy whirlwind of a life.”

“I think it’s both of you really ready for what’s next and this just all happens to be in the way right now. But, you’re here now, which not only is he going to be over the moon about, the rest of us are pretty happy as well. Not just because he’ll be in better spirits, it’s because we love you just as much too,” he states plainly. “You’re as much a part of this, a part of the family. I’m personally glad you’re here for these last few. This run’s been special, you should be here for the end of it.”

“Do not make me ruin my makeup, damnit,” you half laugh, half bite back a sob. “I’m so glad he has you, not just on the road, but in general. I know how much he loves you. I do, too.”

His phone pings rapidly.

“Ten-minute warning for fetching him. Let’s go get you out and set. Phil’s on you until Jake walks out with Shawn,” he states, reaching for his headset in one hand, for you with his other.

You carefully walk down the back hallway towards the stage together. Jake and Phil meet you at the back corner of the build out. Jake hands you off a fresh pair of earplugs.

“You’re going to need these,” he reminds you. “It’s his usual walk, so he won’t expect a thing. Especially seeing Phil at that junction of the barricade, once Phil gets the signal from me that we’re going, he’ll shift behind you so Shawn can spot you.”

You throw him a thumbs up as you wedge the plugs into place. Phil takes your arm in his, his other hand patting your forearm.

“Let’s go surprise him,” he says, leading you out to the pit.

For some reason, probably your conversation with Cez if you’re being honest with yourself, has your stomach set off with butterflies. You’ve not been like this since the early days of your relationship. Excited, always. Happy, without a doubt. Nervous though? No. You try to not shift about, instead closing your eyes to take in the moment. The crowd is loud, you can smell the remnants of the smoke machine test earlier lingering in the air.

Phil taps your shoulder, sliding you into place in front of him.

“He’s walking,” he mouths with a wink.

The house lights come down and the stage lights start to just warm. You exhale and lean back onto Phil slightly, whose hands come to rest comfortably on your shoulders. The opening video starts to roll and the lights hit the pit walk so you know you’ve got about 30 seconds at best before he comes into view. Phil pushes you forward just a touch just as you spot Jake and Shawn with Connor shuffling just behind to get the right angle for the surprise.

He’s in his pre-show zone, not taking in much around him. Jake nudges him though and his eyes shoot up. Shawn looks over towards you, taking a moment for things to register, and when it does his smile is as bright as you’ve seen. His eyes grow wide, he turns to Jake, who nods with a grin and then Shawn takes off in a sprint.

“Surprise!” you try to scream, but he’s already got you in his hold lifting you to swing you around.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, please,” he utters in your ear before pulling you closer, finally getting you back on your feet.

You slide your hands from his shoulders, one to the nape of his neck fingering the wispy curls there, the other to nudge his one in-ear out.

“Not a dream, baby. Very much here, very much real. You got me for the rest of the run, love,” you say directly into his ear. “Go be my Rockstar. I’ll watch side stage, be there waiting for you after the show.”

You pop his in-ear back into place then cup his cheek, watching his eyes roll back slightly.

“I love you so damn much,” he yells before kissing you soundly. “I am so lucky you’re mine.”

Shawn rubs his nose against yours before sneaking in another kiss, then runs up to the stage with Jake on his heels. Jake winks as he passes, throwing a double thumbs up before Phil takes you towards the back staircase so you can set up on the rolling case you know is waiting for you.

The show is electric as always, but he’s got a special energy tonight. You can’t help but feel a bit happy as to probably being the reason why. He’s smiling, sweaty and disheveled, running back towards you in the break before the encore.

“You’re a mess,” you quip with a smile, handing him a bottle of water and a towel.

“Never minded that before,” he retorts back, running a hand through the mess of his hair after wiping his face down with the towel.

“Not the place Shawn Peter,” you say, shooing him away. “Go finish, I’m not going anywhere.”

He drops the water bottle down on the case next to you, stealing another kiss before bopping his way back out.

You hop off the case and head out towards the curtain line to get a better view. His encore covers have been something else this tour. He’s been leaning hard into Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ and it’s a stunner, especially just him and the piano.

“I had a surprise tonight delivered to me just before the show, a really amazing one actually,” he begins as he settles into playing the piano. “So, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to play something a little special before I get into my last two songs.”

Once he hits the first few chords, your jaw drops immediately.

“You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down. You, you enchant me, even when you're not around. If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down. I'm latching on babe now I know what I have found,” he sings and you can’t help but inch closer to the edge as far as you can go without being spotted or seen. “I feel we're close enough, I wanna lock in your love. I think we're close enough, could I lock in your love, baby? Now I got you in my space, I won't let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace; I'm latching on to you.”

You didn’t expect this the other night, so you very much don’t expect it tonight. You can’t do anything but watch him, enamored and amazed. He sounds breathtaking. The whole song just gives you goosebumps, especially in a setting like this. Damn this boy.

“Thanks for indulging me tonight, Santiago,” he says and you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks, even from there. He immediately segues into Free Fallin’ to get his encore moving, before finishing completely with If I Can’t Have You.

He’s got a hold of your hands the moment he’s out of sight of the audience.

“Did you like it?” he asks, dipping his head down to kiss you, feather soft.

“Love it, love you,” you reply, dusting kisses across his knuckles. “Come on, let’s get you back there before they start to think we’re defiling a case on the stage.”

He chuckles, tangling his fingers deeper with yours before leading you towards his dressing room. As you hit the main hallway, most of the band and the crew are waiting there and start whooping and clapping the moment the two of you come into view.

“What the hell?” you question, as he holds your hand tighter trying to make your way down the hall. He shakes his head, cheeks pink as he bites his bottom lip.

“Hold up,” Jake stops you both just before the doorway to his room, arms crossing against his chest and a shit eating grin spread across his face. “Believe you owe this lady a thank you.”

“Hello, the song, on stage, the encore? In front of the whole damn audience,” he retorts, running his free hand through his curls before tugging you towards him and the door without getting you covered in post-show sweat. “Now I’d like to shower, get the heck out of here so I can spend some time with her. Without an audience.”

You can hear the snickers and wolf whistles, it’s your turn to flush. Jake shakes his head no.

“You know what you assholes, fine,” Shawn sighs before rolling his eyes.

“Don’t even with me kid,” Jake smirks.

“I know what you’re…” he trails off but tugs your hand, so you stand closer to him. “Shit. C’mere baby.”

The next thing you know he’s cupping your neck and kissing the breath straight out of you. Your hands fly up, one gripping his shoulder the other tangling in his hair. He pulls away first, just as breathless as you’re feeling.

“You all happy now? Can I please get into my room?” he asks.

Jake moves aside, patting him on the shoulder. He snatches your hand and tugs you into the room, shutting and locking the door behind you both.

“Do I even want to know?” you say, leaning back against the door as he toes off his boots.

“Grander the gesture, bigger the thank you,” he replies, stripping off his button down next, his tank and jeans follow. “They like to tease, you know this. Especially when you and I start getting the way we do. It’s all in good fun, but not when you pull the most epic surprise and I’ve run through a whole damn show. I haven’t seen you in how long and I still haven’t really held you or loved on you the way I want to.”

“Then you best go shower, sweetheart,” you tease. “You know feeling is mutual.”

He darts over to kiss you again, “Be right back.”

He’s quick, which you appreciate, and even more that he’s just in a pair of threadbare, low slung navy sweats when he heads back out to you. He drops the towel in his hand to snag yours, pulling you towards the couch. He flops down first and pulls you immediately down on top of him. He kisses your forehead before scooting you down so your head can rest comfortably on his shoulder. He smells fresh, clean, warm, like him and like home.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you slowly and thoroughly. “Fuck, how I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so damn happy that you’re here. You’re amazing you know that? How did you pull this off?”

“Once Hong Kong pushed timeline, I had a little wiggle room, but I wouldn’t be sure until Denmark signed off,” you explain, finger carefully tracing back and forth against his collarbone and shoulder. “I didn’t want to get either of our hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. Then like a week and a half ago? That night we just couldn’t get timing together I think you were in Panama still. I was up and cranky at stupid o’clock, said screw it. I knew I had some comp time due, had a little vacation time left, plus after Bucharest debacle on their part, they kind of owe me to boot. Called Bea, looped in Cez and voila.”

“You’re making it harder to even come remotely close to do for you what you do for me,” he presses his lips against your hair. “I’m so grateful for you.”

“There’s not a tally, sweetheart. We do for each other, you know this,” you remind him. “You and me, always right?”

There’s a knock on the door and jingling of keys, you go to move but Shawn holds you to him.

“Just gonna be C, we’re not doing anything. You stay put,” he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles your ear.  

“Sorry kids, time to get a move on,” Cez calls out from the doorway. “Can I come in? Are you at least PG?”

“It’s cuddling man, that’s all,” Shawn barks out with a laugh as you bury your head into his neck.

“You’ve got about 10 minutes to get yourselves together before the sprinter gets here,” he reminds you both. “We’ve got a curfew in the building overall, so we can’t be late on this one.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready,” you reply, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Let’s go, you. Need to get your stuff together. Can’t be late.”

“Listen to your girl, Shawn,” Cez remarks. “She’s right. Plus, you’ll be free of us and interruptions once you’re back at the hotel. Late call tomorrow since we’re already set here. I’m leaving the door unlocked and open so no funny bunny ok?”

“Thanks, Cez. See you in a few,” you say, trying to nudge at Shawn.

“You know that means we can go to that park in the morning,” you whisper, kissing his chin once Cez is back out in the hallway. “Upsy daisy dear.”

He sighs dramatically, but with a smile, “Only if you promise a little morning love, breakfast in bed and that park in the morning.”

“You drive such a hard bargain,” you giggle. “It’s a deal.”

He kisses you quickly and loudly before sitting up with you still in his hold, “I can’t wait to get you alone alone tonight.”

“Which would be sooner if you got a move on,” you roll your eyes, poking at his chest while his hands palm you ass.

He stops for a moment though, looks at you softly while not taking his eyes off of you.

“Love you pretty girl,” he declares, hand pushing stray strands of your hair away from your cheek, before holding it in his palm.

“Love you too, Shawn.”  

[snortyport]

Trapped- JJK Chapter 1

Summary- A regular morning commute gets interrupted with tragedy

Rating- PG

Word count- 1274

Pairing- Jungkook x reader

Warnings- none

A/N- This is the first fic I’m posting on here. I’m super nervous about it so I hope you like it! Please don’t be too harsh if it sucks lol. 

Masterlist | Next

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Your head bounces against the school bus window as it travels down the old, windy dirt road. You quickly straighten up, rubbing the side of your head. Why is that such a popular thing to do in movies and music videos? It really hurts.

The bus was quiet, which you liked. Early morning bus duty was the worst in your opinion but as a second-year teacher you didn’t feel comfortable complaining about doing it. So here you were at 7:48 am, trying to stay awake, wishing you hadn’t slept in and missed your morning coffee. It was either brush your teeth or make coffee and right now you weren’t sure if you made the right choice.

You got on the bus right at 7, picked up the nine students from the surrounding areas of the little town you moved to, and were currently going to pick up the last two kids from the farthest house. When you graduated from university you had hoped to find a school near your hometown to stay near your family and friends or another city but as luck would have it there were no openings. Nor were there any offers close to your home either. No, the only place that had contacted you for an interview was this tiny little town of 800 people and hundreds of kilometers away from the next town. And there was no way you were going to pass up a job even if it is thousands of kilometers away from your home.

You couldn’t really complain though. It was a cute and charming little town. One where the main road is littered with old timey lamp posts. The side walks are cobblestones and the store fronts haven’t been updated since they were built. It looks like you’ve stepped into a time machine and gone back about a hundred years.

You were worried about being an outsider and having no one treat you nicely here. You’ve read enough books and watched enough horror movies to know that an outsider is never welcome. But you were pleasantly surprised. They welcomed you with open arms, inviting you to house parties and the such. During holidays someone always has extra room at their dinner table for you. When the town has celebrations in the town square you’ve always had people inviting you along. You feel like part of their community and you couldn’t be happier.

The bus comes to a stop and the driver, Tom, opens the door. Jeannie, a tiny kindergartener in the cutest pigtails, climbs up the big steps, almost falling over because of her oversized backpack. Her older brother, Jamie, a third grader, steadies her as he follows her up.

“Morning, Tom,” Jeannie greets sweetly. Tom grunts in response. “Morning, Miss YLN,” her voice twinkles as she walks by your seat.

“Good morning Jeannie, good morning Jamie,” you smile and nod as they each pass you. They both find their seats, three rows behind you, and the bus starts moving again. Tom turns the bus around using Jeannie and Jamie’s driveway.

“I don’t know how you drive this thing Tom, I really don’t,” you tell him. He grunts back at you. Tom has been like this since the first time you met him two years ago. He’s a big, tall man with a beard down to his chest, tattoos displayed up his arms and down to his fingers. He’s apparently been driving the school bus for forty years. You’ve always wondered if he was always this grumpy or if dealing with children for so long has turned him into the mean, old grump he is. Getting a chuckle out of him at last years Christmas party was a huge accomplishment you didn’t know you wanted. It was probably the alcohol.

Now that you’re on the way back to school you turn in your seat the check on everyone and make sure you didn’t miss count. There’s Jeannie and Jamie three seats behind you, Jeannie is quietly talking her brothers ear off. Tanner, another grade three student and Jamie’s best friend, sits on the opposite seat across the aisle, joining in on the siblings conversation. You like these kids but you much prefer teaching the high school kids.

Lilly and Marissa, two eighth graders, sit together two seats behind them, giggling at Marissa’s phone. They’re sweet girls. Makes you miss your best friend.

Noah, an eleventh grader, sits by himself, silently looking out the window as you drive along, seemingly in a trance. Not a morning person either I guess. He’s a good kid, you wish the other kids wouldn’t pick on him.

Your eyes drift past Noah to the back of the bus where the last five students occupy the last four seats. Hayley and Will sit together in the corner seat, heads bent close together. Are they together again? They’re constantly on and off. She’s a smart girl and can definitely do better. While Will is the macho, jockey jock who if you’re not in his group, you’re treated like trash. He’s 6’4”, bulky, and intimidating as hell. He easily towers over everyone at school. He scares you a little even though you’re the teacher.

The last three boys sit in the other three seats, throwing things at each other. Maybe this is why Tom is so grumpy. Kyle, Graham, and Adam, Will’s beefy lackeys. You’re not supposed to hate any of your students but they make it very hard not to. You see how they manipulate the younger kids to do their dirty work. They also torment anyone who stands up to them. You hated kids like this in high school and you hate them even more now that you’re an adult.

You turn back around in your seat, turning all the way around to fully face the window, as the bus idly makes it way down the gravel road. As much as you don’t like mornings this part of the drive always relaxes you. The morning rays shine between the tree tops, and the world is still quiet.

You wish you had been paying more attention because if you did you would have noticed Tom slump forward on the steering wheel. You could have braced yourself, told the kids to prepare for a crash. That means you don’t notice the bus getting faster or the curve in the road and that the bus is heading straight for the cluster of small trees on the other side.

The bus hits quick, sending you flying into the seat ahead of you. Your head hits the metal handrail making everything go fuzzy. The sound of screeching metal echoes throughout the bus, mingling with screams of terror from the kids behind you. The front corner of the bus knocks into a big spruce tree, swinging the back of the bus around. The bus ping pongs against two more sturdy spruces. The momentum from the back and forth causes it to tip over onto it’s side where it continues to slide until it makes its last crash against a tall pine tree.

You have never felt more weightless and fragile as you do now. When the bus tipped you were flung into the seat on the opposite side and down onto the window. Your entire body aches, your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing. You notice that even though there is so much ringing in your ears, its quiet in the bus.

You lay there, breaths coming out in fast, heavy puffs, for what feels like hours with no screams, no crying, nothing. Your heart stops. Please let everyone ok. Please let anyone be ok.

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I hope you guys liked it! Thank you for reading!! This is a Jungkook fic but he won’t show up for a few chapters so bare with me! 

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

roommates AU!! Maybe one where young Tony has had a string of awful roommates (ie. they bully him for his age, etc.). The housing office transfers him one last time and tells him to give it a week. If this one still doesn't work out, then they'll let him room alone. At first, Tony just wants the week to be over, but of course his new roommate is the sweet Peter Parker. Cue pining!Tony, oblivious!Peter and a fluffy resolution... Just my rambles, but always excited to see what you come up with!

do the thing - send in all the prompts.    

Nonnie, this was a lovely prompt - thank you so much for the idea! I aged Tony up a little bit to make sure there wasn’t anything underage, but I hope I hit all the things you were looking for! 

Tony always figured flying through school would be a breeze. And for the most part – it was. The class material turned out to be easier than even he anticipated; he could’ve easily gotten through high school with his eyes closed. At 16, the concept of winning was the only thing that registered to him – what he was winning, he didn’t really know; but beating out his peers around him always made him feel just a bit better about how ridiculously brainy he really was.

Of course, the social aspect of school wasn’t nearly as easy. Most people didn’t understand what it was like to be the son of Howard Stark – Tony knew the inside of a lab before the age of 4 and attended dinners with some of the world’s figure heads on a consistent basis. As one of the youngest people in the entire room always, Tony struggled to fit in. Being smart wasn’t the piece of school that people admired, especially when the age gap was already so substantial. To say he was picked on was putting it mildly.

He assumed getting to college would end all of the bullying that came pre-packaged in the high school experience. Why would people in the pursuit of a degree in higher education care how old anyone was? The shocking reality of how wrong he was came when his very first roommate locked him out of the dorm for a full 48-hours. Tony didn’t like to throw around the weight of his name, but he hadn’t showered and needed textbooks to get to some of his classes. Needless to say, his roommate did not remain in the room for much longer.

Tony’s next roommate at least lasted for the rest of the year – he was an asshole at all points in time, but he didn’t lock him out of the room or touch his shit. There wasn’t enough of a connection to ask him back as a roommate – so Tony put his name back on the list for a roommate and went about his summer vacation.

Coming back from Italy, Tony was refreshed and more than ready to get through the next year as quickly as possible. He’d turned 17 over the summer and was one step closer to being on the cusp of independence. Then, people couldn’t judge him for his age. Tony walked into the year with a positive attitude – that was quickly bat down by the homophobic bigot they stuck him with. Tony still didn’t like the way faggot sat on the surface of his skin.

The struggle to keep a roommate brought him in front of housing for what felt like the hundredth time – all he wanted was some peace to get through school and maybe enjoy some of it. The notoriety of the university kept the supply of single rooms scarce, but he figured if push really came to shove, he could find a way to get one for himself. Cindy, who’d been dealing with him since his first gem of a roommate screwed the pooch, looked at him with a mixture of pity and concern. “I need you to give it a go one more time, for at least a week. There aren’t any singles available and I’m certain that this person will be suitable for you. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do if all else fails.”

A barely concealed scoff left his mouth, but he nodded, anyway. After the stream of lectures he got from his father when the initial trouble started, Tony was determined to settle the situation by his own means, even if that meant trying to stomach one more person for 7 days. All of his other roommates proved how terrible they were right from the get-go, so he figured he could make it – the other side held the key to his single and a little bit of peace from the boring monotony of societal norms.

A couple of days later, a knock on the door drew Tony from the book in front of him – he’d been balls deep in the chapter on electrical energy conversion. Standing up from his seated position, Tony realized how long he’d been sitting when his feet felt a little numb. The break was obviously needed.

Pulling the door open, Tony let a soft gasp leave his lips – the person standing there was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Long legs led to a torso that was covered with a white and purple striped shirt and flight jacket. The length of this person’s neck held a head covered in dark brown, curly hair. Tony took a couple of steps back on instinct, his brain going haywire.

“Are you Tony?”

In an attempt to speak, Tony opened his mouth – no words followed, however. Blushing, he chose to nod instead. He opened the door a little bit wider, his hand swinging in a ‘come in gesture’. His lips were quirked into an involuntary smile, everything about his body he could usually control now running on instinct and the overwhelming hormones that coursed through him.

A soft chuckle left the other’s mouth, the sound like music to his ears. Why did it take this long to deliver someone like this to his door? More than anything, Tony hoped that handsome person walking into the dorm that must be his new roommate wasn’t a total piece of shit – he wanted to be able to hold out a little hope.

“I’m Peter – Peter Parker. I just transferred here,” the man, Peter, said – his eyes wandering around the modest fixtures that Tony kept around the shared space. “Is that really a big-screen TV?” Peter’s plumps lips formed a roguish grin, coffee-colored eyes flashing with genuine excitement. “I never thought I’d see one of those in a college dorm room.”

Tony watched him trace a hand across the top, his fingers fiddling with the wiring at the back of it. “And it has HDMI capability. We can get both of my systems set up on this thing.” Peter’s excitement took him by surprise, everyone else who walked through the door didn’t care about the cool shit he brought with him – just the differences between them; his age, the sexuality he refused to hide – his academic abilities, even.

Not Peter, though – he went on to explain that he was getting a degree in Electrical Engineering and didn’t get to have some of the newer appliances growing up. It was weird, to see someone so excited about the nerdy stuff Tony liked, too. They heartily discussed the best way to get both the Xbox and PlayStation set up through the tv without bogging down the cable setup already existing in the room. 

By the time they were both happy with how Peter’s things mixed into the fixtures of the room, Tony figured he was already head over heels for the guy – for the first time in his life, someone took him at face value and didn’t hate what they saw.

----

The rest of the year with Peter went by seamlessly. During the spring semester, they planned to have a class together, both of them still needing to take some of the basic engineering classes. There wouldn’t be a lot of cross over later in their degrees, so they took advantage. It was different, having someone he could rely on sitting in class next to him, and then being there at home later on, too. Tony never got to experience the sort of camaraderie that Peter so freely gave to him.

Mornings were filled with the two of them trying to make breakfast on the little hot plate Peter brought from home. It was always an adventure, trying to get everything cooked all the way through and evenly – at least, Tony enjoyed watching Peter puzzle it all together. Their day started together and as the time passed, it ended together, too. Peter liked to spend time in their shared space, so Tony found excuses to be out there, too.

Tony found himself seeking out Peter’s company all the time, if he were being honest. Peter was the most interesting person – he didn’t care about the normal things; he wanted to learn and explore, he wanted to see what the world had to offer. Best of all, he seemed to want to include Tony in the things he wanted to know more about.

A couple of months into their second semester living together, Tony looked up to find Peter staring at him. “What’s your middle name?” Peter asked, a smirk slipping across his lips. “Are you an Anthony, or just Tony?”

Putting his pen down in the book he’d been reading to keep his place, Tony shifted a bit and gave Peter his full attention. “My full name is Anthony Edward Stark. No one but my mom calls me Anthony, though.” Tony tried to keep the blush he couldn’t help under cover, but his ears were warm – there was no escaping it. “What about you? Are you a junior, or something?”

The exchange went on a for a while, Peter talking a bit about his family in Queens and the Brainiac’s team he left behind when he graduated and came to Cambridge. Tony soaked up the information and attempted to be open about pieces of himself, too – he talked about his dad and the weird relationship they had and about Dum-E and the never-ending tweaks and adjustments he made to better him.

It was a little easier after that conversation, both of them felt a little more comfortable and for Tony, he felt closer to Peter than any other person in his life. He hoped it wasn’t obvious, how much Peter meant to him. There were stars in his eyes constantly – so he kind of doubted it.

Even his mom noticed how things shifted for him – he wasn’t his normally surly self when he went home over spring break. Maria looked at him with a weird smile – Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen the look on her face before. “School okay, Tony?” she questioned, her hands brushing through the hair by his ear. He figured she missed the little kid he used to be – he would sit for hours and let her pet him like that back then.

Grinning, Tony nodded – his teenage hormones making it hard to keep himself calm, cool, and collected. “Yes, it’s okay. I’m doing well and really enjoying Differential Equations this semester.” He kept his answer brief, his inability to talk to her still in place despite the weightless feeling that accompanied him. “I’m thinking about picking up a class in the summer and sticking around.”

He didn’t tell her that Peter was involved in a work study program and would need to be on campus all summer working. It seemed silly to give up his bedroom in the place that was now his home simply because summer came around. 

Tony didn’t want to miss a single second of time he could be around Peter – no matter how weirdly pathetic that probably was. Later, when he left the kitchen and headed towards his room, Tony missed the smile his mom beamed his way.

Their end of the semester project was due a couple of weeks after they got back from spring break, so Tony and Peter spent a lot of time together when they got back from visiting their respective families. It was a little like the time away from each other strengthened the need for the bond between them. Peter spent more time in the dorm and when he couldn’t be there, Tony pestered him at work, the help desk more than familiar with him after all the time he spent there.

The closer they got; the more Tony wondered if Peter felt the same way that he did. Tony knew he was still young, his 18th birthday creeping slowly toward him. There were tons of great looking people on campus, people that were closer to Peter’s age – but he hoped, he crossed his fingers and looked up in search of a person he didn’t believe in just to send up a little wish into the atmosphere.

Tony tried to gage things between them a couple of weeks before the end of the semester – he wanted the summer to go off without a hitch and knew his useless pinning would be more of a burden than anything if he didn’t at least try and find out if he stood any chances. He wasn’t completely sure of how he’d try to fish out the truth, but he needed to – the probable thought of exploding crossing his mind frequently.

A perfect opportunity presented itself when Peter came home a little tipsy from a party that Friday night, his face split into a loose smile, eyes shining with the blaze of alcohol and something simmering just below the surface. Tony paused the round of Tekken he’d been playing, his hand patting the cushion next to him. “Have a good night?” Tony asked curiously, his lips slipping into a smile when Peter threw himself carelessly down onto the couch. Their shoulders brushed, that little bit of contact sending a torrent of happiness through him.

“I definitely drank enough to make it feel like it was a good night,” Peter replied, the alcohol letting the words fall easily from loose lips. “MJ brought 151 in a little flask – it doesn’t taste like shoe cleaner, so it was easy to drink a little bit too much.” He smiled and leaned further into Tony’s side. “Glad to be back, though.”

A nose brushed the side of his neck, Tony holding his breath to stop the gasp that tried to escape from the confines of his chest. He put the controller down on the arm of the couch and sat more fully on the couch – his arm going around the back of it. “I’m glad that you’re back, too,” Tony admitted, his hand moving inch by inch until his fingertips were just barely fumbling with the sleeve of Peter’s black t-shirt.

“What are you doing, Tony?” Peter asked from his place against Tony’s shoulder, his breath tickling his skin, the sensation distracting. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and absorbed he warmth while he could – Peter nestled in the space Tony wanted him the most might never happen again.

“I – don’t know. I – “ Tony started to speak, but the common problem of getting a little tongue-tied around Peter coming back with a vengeance. “I think I was trying to put my arm around you.” He felt his face flush even further – his cheeks and ears the same colors as Peter’s without the influence of alcohol and its properties.

While he didn’t actually move away, Tony felt Peter stiffen. Sucking in a hurt breath, Tony froze, too – he must’ve read the room wrong. “Oh,” he heard Peter say, the word muffled by Tony’s skin still. He gulped, then extracted himself from the tangle of longer arms and warm skin – his eyes already starting to burn with tears he wouldn’t be able to control for much long.

“Sorry – I didn’t, I mean. I – sorry, Pete.” Tony babbled, the inability to speak in full sentences hitting him double time now that embarrassment coated the nervousness that threatened to overcome him. How stupid could he be? Turning before he could embarrass himself further, Tony made a quick beeline to his room and shut the door. He slumped back against it, sliding down to the floor.

----

Tony avoided Peter as much as he could leading up to the end of the semester, and subsequently, Tony’s birthday. He’d already made the commitment to stay over the summer, and he steeled himself for the awkwardness that would more than likely settle between them. The soft ‘oh’ Peter mumbled that night still played in his mind – his voice just as confused as the rigid posture of his body.

Either way, he needed to find a way to get over it – Peter was the best roommate he ever had, and he still had at least one more year of school to get through. It felt good to finish a semester and he did his best to focus on that instead of the weird ache in his chest. No wonder so many people were so wrecked by the love thing – when it didn’t work out, it hurt like an absolute bitch.

The two weeks before finals and Tony’s birthday followed much of the same pattern – Tony stayed in his room until he couldn’t stop the rumble in his stomach; he did his best to time his ventures into the shared space of the dorm when he thought Peter wouldn’t be there. It was easier to just ignore the situation and hope it past.

His birthday rolled around without much fanfare – he was glad to be 18 and didn’t need the huge party his parents wanted to throw him. They were never about him, anyway. Tony figured he’d spend the day watching the TV in his room and making his way through the couple different cartons of ice cream he put in the freezer the day before.

A knock on the door around 10AM had him muting the TV to answer it, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw Peter on the other side of the door. “Hey. Happy Birthday, Tony,” Peter started, the card in his hand being thrust forward into Tony’s chest without much finesse. The hand he could feel against him shook; Peter obviously nervous for some reason.

“Actually – that’s not why I’m here. I thought maybe you’d be more willing to open the door when there was something to celebrate.” Peter shrugged, his legs crossing in front of him. “Tony, that night – I wasn’t… upset, or anything. About what you said. I was surprised. I didn’t have any idea that you felt like that. It was a shock – I’d been crushing on you for months at that point and there you were, adorably trying to put your arm around me. You were gone before the ability to think started to work again.”

He reached out and traced Tony’s cheekbone with a soft finger, the caress barely there. “I like you, Tony – I want you to like me, too.” The fingers trailed along Tony’s soft skin and into his hair, the entirety of his hand palming the back of his neck when it got there. “And I think you do.”

“I do, Pete. I do. I really, really do.” Tony let both of his hands drift to the bare skin of Peter’s forearm, his fingers gripping the grounding warmth there. “Will you kiss me?” Tony asked the question so sweetly, the blazing in his eyes a sharp contrast

Peter used his lips to answer, the hand on the back of his head pulling Tony close enough to press their lips together. A gasp left Tony’s lips, the touch like an electric shock. In an attempt to keep his feet on the ground, Tony fisted Peter’s shirt in his hands, the move bringing them closer still.

The need for air had them pulling apart, Tony’s eyes opening wide to take in the look on Peter’s face – he figured the loopy smile there mirrored the happiness etched into his own cheeks.

“Want to go out with me, Tony?” Peter mumbled, his face breaking into a beaming smile.

Laughing, Tony used the grip on Peter’s shirt to pull him back in for a chaste kiss, his entire being thrumming with life.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (33)- Waking

A lot of people commented about how horrifying it would be to wake up in the middle of surgery. Anesthesia awareness happens to about 1 in a 1000 patients, and I was one of those lucky ducks!

It wasn’t major surgery, but I still wasn’t supposed to wake up. I was getting my wisdom teeth removed. They recommended I bring in headphones and listen to music. I was only conscience enough to hear my music. At one point a song came on that I didn’t want to listen to, so I opened my eyes and looked down to my iPod. The orthodontist stopped and said, “Oh just changing the song?”

And then I looked up, seeing two doctors there, with blood covered gloves, and a bunch of instruments sticking out of my mouth.

It’s the only thing I remember from getting that surgery. Not the recovery, not the appointment, not even the song that prompted it. It also only felt like it took 15 minutes, but apparently it was two hours. Anesthesia really messes with the perceived perception of time when you’re only semiconscious.

It’s really a horrifying experience.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

Dr. Ernest Boucher would consider himself lucky. He had a loving wife, and a patient son, who understood the importance of his father’s job and didn’t take it personally when he had to suddenly leave.

And now, after a 48 hour shift, he was returning home. Exhausted, hungry, and stressed, but home.

“I’m home!” He called in the door.

“Oh honey!” His wife called from the other room. “We just sat down for dinner! Come take a seat, I’ll make you up a plate!”

Ernest hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. Home cooking, a hot shower, and to sleep for a few hours in his bed…that’s all he wanted.

His wife wrapped an arm around his waist and smooched his cheek. “I made Lasagna.”

“Lasagna…I love lasagna…” He said dreamily.

As he came into the kitchen, he saw his son, pouring himself a soda. “Hey Pop! You look like you got hit by a truck!” The boy laughed.

His son was 17 years old, blonde hair, athletic, looked a lot like Adrien. Several times during the surgery, Ernest imagined it was his boy on the table.

He sympathized with Gabriel Agreste, who looked like a complete mess.

“Pop? You good?”

Ernest yanked on his son’s arm and pulled him into a tight hug. “Just happy to see you, Kiddo.”

With a shrug, Ernest’s son hugged his father back.

—

After a filling dinner and a 8 hour night’s sleep, Ernest arose. His pager hadn’t gone off in the middle of the night. So surely Adrien and Marinette were either in the same place they were, or any minor problems were solved by the team.

He showered, shaved, and got dressed.

His boy was already at school, but had left him a text in the morning.

“You’re my superhero!” It read, simply.

The words brought tears to his eyes.

His wife made him breakfast, a big one with lots of protein to keep him full until he had a late lunch. She also filled up his coffee mug with a fancy kind that outdid the hospital brew.

And then, with another kiss, he was back off to the hospital.

Or at least that was the plan. He was not expecting to be swarmed outside his house by the media.

“Dr. Boucher! What kind of surgery did Adrien have?!”

“Is Marinette alright?”

“Did Chat lose his arm?”

“Did Adrien survive from the whipping!?”

“Have you talked to the families yet?!”

“Dr. Boucher!”

“Dr. Boucher, over here!”

Completely overwhelmed, his head swiveled everywhere his name was called until he was dizzy.

“Stop!” He shouted, hands out.

The crowd calmed to a murmur.

“Everyone be quiet! Just give me a moment!”

Well, if he was a little dazed before, now he was wide awake.

The media settled down, waiting to hear him.

“Bring the mics closer, I’m only going to say this once. Then I must get back to the hospital!”

Obediently, the news crews all passed microphones up to the front, where some poor intern was put in charge of holding them up like a bouquet in front of the good doctor.

Ernest clear his throat. “Alright. Due to patient confidentiality, I can’t get into specifics. But I can tell you that as of when I left last night, both Marinette and Adrien were alive and asleep. They both received care for several wounds inflicted from Salo, including the flogging. Adrien’s arm has not yet been addressed, because of other more serious surgeries first. That is all I can tell you now, thank you.”

The crowd parted as he headed to his car, but they continued to ask questions as he climbed inside.

Ernest took a sip of his coffee as he started the car. He wasn’t sure how the media found out he was in charge of the team. He didn’t worry about it, but it wasn’t expected. Some nurse who hadn’t read their email probably blurted something to someone.

Oh well. He supposed the nugget he gave was fair enough. After a month of knowing absolutely everything happening to the heroes, and then knowing nothing? It would leave people asking questions.

And with Hawkmoth battling with the auxiliary heroes on the Arc de Triomphe, there probably weren’t any more threats to worry about.

He hoped.

—

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away—away—to an indefinite distance—it died. The nightingale’s song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said—

“Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.”

“I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.”

It was a weird dream. No visuals, no feelings. Just a soft voice of a mother recanting a story. She spoke quietly, tenderly, just a hum above a whisper.

Then she felt sensations. Pins and needles of sleepiness in her toes, the ache and twinge of long set wounds.

Her knees ached, as they were unaccustomed to having her legs stretched out. But she found she lacked the strength to move.

Was she awake? Or asleep? Neither, she supposed, balancing on the edge of both. That blissful state of absolute comfort.

Slowly, Marinette back tracked in time. What did she remember?

The haunting image of Adrien bleeding out in that chair, watching him collapse in the hall, his slowly languid breaths in that room.

And then a haze. They moved, somewhere. Wetness, like rain. Running?

It was like looking through a thick cotton curtain, muffling sound and sight.

And now she was here. Wherever ‘here‘ was.

Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous.

“Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely.”

“You have no faith in me?”

“Not a whit.”

It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. A soft bed, cradling her as if she was fragile, and a warm blanket weighing her to the bed. A soft ambient light held back the darkness, but didn’t pierce through her lids.

Marinette tried to open her eyes, caked as they were. The light was dim, illuminating gridded ceiling titles immediately above her. It smelled faintly of chemicals, while a droning hiss carried through the air. Her neck ached, but as she tilted her head, she briefly looked around the room. No one to her left, though she did see a strange machine and a metal stand, an IV stand. A tube ran from the bag down to her arm. A door cracked open revealed a bathroom and another door on the far side of the room was closed, but silhouetted figure stood in the window.

To her right, she found the owner of the voice, her own mother, sitting in a chair by her side, hand in hers, and reading from a book. Jane Eyre, as it looked. Farther down the bed, her father sat in another chair, his hand wrapped loosely around her foot.

Behind her parents, orange light filtered through the light curtains.

A bright red blob caught her attention. Tikki laid curled up on her chest.

A moment more, allowing her brain to digest all she could see, and she realized she was in a hospital.

The how and when escaped her.

“What, me!” I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness— and especially in his incivility—to credit his sincerity: “me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?”

“You, Jane, I must have you for my own—entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly.”

“Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to read your countenance—turn!”

“There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer.”

“Marinette?” Her father interrupted.

Marinette didn’t respond verbally, not knowing if she had the strength to do so. Instead, she squeezed her hand and twitched her foot.

Warm lips pressed to her forehead, as she came to find a mask on her face. She couldn’t speak, even if she wanted to.

“Just sleep, my darling.” Sabine said softly. “You’re very tired.”

She was. That was true.

The warmth, the quiet, the softness, it was soothing.

Safe.

Sleep.

Safe.

Safe.

Adrien.

She awoke with a jolt. It had only been a few minutes, so she thought, but the room was different. Brighter. Day light peered in the window, and her father was gone.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Sabine asked, seeing Marinette startle awake. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Adrien.” She said, in response.

Understanding came over Sabine’s face. “Yes darling, he’s here. He’s in ICU. He’ll be okay.”

She pulled on the mask that covered her face, immediately struggling to breathe. “I need to see him!”

Sabine just calmly replaced the mask. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

Marinette grabbed her wrist. “Where is he? Where’s Chat?” She began to cry.

Sabine pressed a button nearby. “Ssh, darling. He’s alright. Just relax.”

Marinette shook her head, forcing the mask from her face. “I don’t believe you! I need to see him! Adrien!”

A female nurse hurried into the room. “Oh dear, she’s up!” The woman smiled.

“She wants to see Adrien.”

The nurse came to the bed, clasping Marinette’s hands. “Oh honey, I know you do. But you’re in no shape to get out of bed.”

“I don’t care! I need to see Adrien! Please!” Her voice was breaking, as she desperately tried to get out of the bed. She was exhausted, and everything hurt as she moved.

“I’m sorry dear, but you need to calm down.” The nurse pressed the mask back to her face and held it there, as her other hand went to the machine at her side.

“Let me go! He needs me! Please I don’t want to leave him alone!”

The nurse petted her hair gently. “Shh, just relax. Breathe. Breathe nice and deep.”

“No! No! No…no…” she felt weaker. Her vision blurred as the room tilted.

Sleep. Her brain demanded.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Sleep.

Adrien.

She jolted again. Wakefulness coming to her quite quickly. Things had changed again, though she was only out for a few minutes, right? Except, now it was dark outside, and both of her parents were missing.

“Marinette! You’re awake again!” Tikki chirped, floating in front of her.

Marinette stared, not knowing what to say. Surely there should be some tearful reunion, right? Or perhaps shame or guilt?

But her mind was in one place.

“Tikki, spots on.”

Tikki had a millisecond to gasp before being sucked into the earrings.

The suit disconnected her from all the tubes and wires. The needles in her veins were forced out, the pads on her chest were peeled off. She ripped the mask off, finding it difficult to breathe again, but not eager to go back to sleep.

All resulting in alarms blaring.

Ladybug had to act quickly to find him. She pushed up, her arms trembling with the action. Her back twinged, as her torn flesh stretched and twisted.

By time she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the nurse appeared. A male nurse this time, roughly the same age as her father, and built like a fridge.

“Whoa there, little lady!” He rushed to her. “You can’t be getting up. Do you need to use the bathroom? We can get you a bedpan.”

She swatted him away, “don’t touch me!”

“What are you trying to do, Ladybug? Let me help you before you hurt yourself.”

“I’m going to see Chat! And you’re not going to stop me!” She glared at him, daring him to try to stop her.

He studied the intensity of her glare, and sighed. “Alright. Just relax a second, alright?”

She didn’t, but stopped trying to stand.

“My name is John, I’m the night shift nurse for you.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Now,” he took her hand gently. “I will take you to Adrien, but we have to do it the hospital way, okay? You don’t want to hurt yourself more, right? Chat wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She softened at the tone. “You’ll take me to him?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll take you to your husband.”

Husband.

So that wedding really was official after all? It hadn’t felt real. No one treated them like husband and wife. They were only treated like garbage.

Her shoulders relaxed, fist uncurled, jaw unclenched. “What’s the hospital way?” She asked.

“I’m going to get you a wheelchair. We’ll reconnect you to the IV, because you’ve got to get your fluids up. Then we’ll stay for a little while, but when it starts hurting too much, we’ll bring you back.”

“I can’t stay with him?”

John knelt in front of her, and held her hands tightly. “Ladybug, Adrien is in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood. We gave him a blood transfusion, but the rest is up to him. He needs constant surveillance.”

“Is…is he going to be okay?”

“I think so. He hasn’t passed yet.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“You were admitted four days ago. You’ve been in and out of sleep for the last two.”

She frowned, considering this. Finally, she relented. “Spots off.”

In a flash of pink, Marinette returned, and with her, more pain. She cried out, as John squeezed her hand.

“I’m going to go get that wheelchair, alright? Stay seated, please.” And he hurried out of the room.

Marinette rested her hands on her knees. Her very knobby, scabbed over knees. She wore thick socks, which made her stick legs look even smaller. She was covered in all sorts of cuts and bruises she hadn’t seen in the dark, and her right hand, which had been branded, was wrapped with thick gauze.

She dared not look in the mirror.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, sadly.

“I’m sorry, Tikki,” was all she could say.

“You don’t need to apologize.” The kwami nuzzled against her cheek. “I’m just glad you’re safe now. Things are going to be weird, and you might be a little irrational. But that’s okay. I still love you.”

Marinette shuttered at the affection, reaching up to hold her against her cheek. “I love you too Tikki.”

John returned shortly, pushing a chair along. “Here we are.”

At his arrival, Marinette pushed against the mattress and tried to slide to the floor. But as her feet made contact, a sharp pain bolted up her legs and she moaned in pain.

“I gotcha,” John directed her to sit, not allowing her to stand for more than a second. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“What…what’s wrong with my legs?” She asked as the pain subsided.

“You have infection in both of your feet. From running around the catacombs for several hours with no shoes on.”

She hummed in understanding.

Carefully, John eased her into the foot rests. Then he had her hold out her arm so he could reattach the IV. “This is a saline solution, just to get your fluids up. You’re still pretty dehydrated.”

“I’m thirsty.” She admitted.

“I’ll get you some water in just a second, okay?”

Marinette couldn’t watch as he inserted the needle, but did look after he started to secure the tube for the IV. “Its…bizarre.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s…so strange to have you be nice to me. Like…I know you’re a nurse, and that you’re only trying to take care of me…”

“But you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Marinette. I might boss you around a little, but I only have your best interests at heart.”

She decided to relax then, leaning back. Her back twinged with the movement. “Agh,” she hissed.

“When we get back, I’ll get you some pain killers.”

“…thank you.”  

Marinette was escorted into the hall, and they almost immediately were stopped by a man in a white coat.

“John? What do you think you’re doing?” He spoke firmly, but calmly. “Miss Dupain-Cheng should not be out of bed.”

“She shouldn’t.” John agreed. “But I found that she is liable to hurt herself if she doesn’t see Mr. Agreste. She transformed.”

“Ah,” the doctor nodded, in understanding. Then he crouched so that Marinette didn’t have to crane her neck to look at him. “Hi Marinette, I’m Dr. Boucher. I’m the main physician for you and Adrien.”

She didn’t say anything, just studied him.

“I know you probably have a hard time trusting anyone right now, but I promise—“

“Stop wasting my time.” She bit, pain starting to creep into her body without the aid of painkillers. “I was promised to see Adrien.”

The doctor smirked. “Yes, of course my dear. John, I will relieve you, if you would go tell the parents where Marinette will be? I believe they are having dinner at the cafeteria right now.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet you in ICU.” He took hold of the chair and started to push her towards the elevators.

“Are you sure I can’t stay with him?” Marinette whispered.

“No, my dear. I’m very sorry. I’ll take you to see him, but I’ll warn you that he looks very scary right now. A lot of tubes and wires all over him. But I promise it’s very his best interest.”

Marinette didn’t outwardly react, but she did feel saddened.

Over the years, Ladybug had seen Chat Noir die several times. Whether it was turning into something, vanishing completely, or hitting the side of a building too hard.

But after the cure, he always bounced back to his normal pun-loving self.

However, this was different. Of course it was. No kwami, no powers, no five minute alarms blaring in her ears. All of it was permanent. She knew that in her head.

But her heart didn’t want to see his scars.

Dr. Boucher wheeled her to an elevator, and then pressed the button for the ground floor. The back wall of the elevator was a window that looked out into the courtyard. In the night, she could look across the yard to a set of large windows, showing the cafeteria, busy with people.

The elevator came to rest, and she was led into the hall.

This was a very nice hospital, with art and sculpture along the walls. As they passed various rooms, nurses and doctors alike spotted her and stared as she went.

“They’re looking at me.” She told the doctor.

“They mean no harm.” He assured. “You should know that you and Adrien are the biggest topic of conversation in Paris right now. Everyone is curious to hear how you are.”

“It’s none of their business,” She bit.

“It’s not.” He confirmed. “But…that woman made it everyone’s business. They just want a happy ending.”

Marinette gripped the armrests. “So do I.”

“Recovery won’t be easy, but you have a wonderful support network. And I have several therapists for you both to utilize. That should make it easier for you.”

Marinette didn’t respond, only digested the information given.

Before too long, they arrived at a room in ICU, being guarded with a police officer. He frowned when he saw Marinette.

“I’d like to see Adrien.” She said sternly.

The man just looked at the doctor. “Far be it from me to stop this…but she should be up?”

“It’s only for a visit. It’s alright.”

The man nodded, and allowed them in.

Marinette’s eyes immediately fell on the figure in the bed. He was barely visible under all the tubes and wires, and bandages. He was leaning to his left, propped up with pillows, so he wasn’t resting flat on his back. She could see his bruised eyes, as his face had a heavy mask strapped to it. Some stray locks of hair stuck out from the strap that led over the top of his head. His left hand had a tube taped to it and a oximeter clamped on his finger. A blanket was pulled up to his sternum, making his chest visible, but it was covered in pads and wires, as well as the tubes that ran into his mask. Under all that was a thick gauze right in the middle of his breast bone, taped on all sides. His right arm, which had been dislocated, was in a sling, resting against his stomach. His hand, wrapped in gauze, rested on top of a Ladybug doll, the one she had made herself. Plagg rested in the crook of his wrist.

“Adrien?”

“He’s sedated right now, which is for the best. He’s intubated so he can breathe better. It would be painful if he was awake.”

“Bring me closer.”

“Please don’t move him.”

Marinette reached out and rested her hand on his wrist, careful not to accidentally nudge his arm. Her thumb rubbed over the frigid skin, trying to give him some heat.

Plagg awoke at the movement, flicking his eyes up. Many hands had come and gone in the few hours he and Gabriel had finally been allowed to see Adrien. Ever watchful, he took note of the nurses, and what they were doing, what they were checking, applying.

But seeing Marinette had confused him for a moment, because he hadn’t recognized her immediately.

But then he saw Tikki on her lap.

“Pigtails?”

“Hi Plagg,” though there wasn’t much warmth in the greeting. She did scratch him between the ears with her finger. He only looked at her sadly.

“He’s cold.” She told the doctor.

“I can get him another blanket.” He stated as he moved from behind her. “Stay put.”

She studied Adrien’s eyes, closed to slumber, but twitching slightly. The ECG graphed his steady heart beat, and the ventilator pumped air at a calm rate. Yes, he looked scary right now, but admittedly, he looked better than he had in the hell hole. He looked peaceful, comfortable, and not at all like he was fighting for his life, though he very obviously still was.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to that sliver of skin. “I’m right here, Kitty. I want to stay with you, but I’m not allowed to.” She wiped a gentle tear from her eye. “But I think we’ll be together soon. Once you’re healed enough. So get better soon, please.”

Tikki floated from Marinette’s lap and hovered over him. “Plagg? Where’s the worst injury?”

“…I don’t know.” Said the kwami. “It’s…it’s all pretty bad.”

“Probably his back.” Provided Marinette. “It was right…right down to the bone.”

Tikki nodded and flew over to his other side. Very gently, she nuzzled into his spine.

Adrien’s eyes twitched more, before they settled.

“It probably didn’t do much,” Tikki stated. “But it will help.”

“Would it help if you stayed with him?”

“He’d have to wear the earrings to get any benefits from me.” She looked meaningfully to his ears, which were bright red in most spots, while the top of his left ear was gone, stitches in place. “I don’t thing we should attempt that now.”

Marinette moaned, feeling helpless.

But Plagg wouldn’t stand it. “Hey, I’ve got some healing properties too, you know!” He floated into her face and nuzzled against her cheek, purring. The sound reverberated into her skin, her sinuses, her skull, her spine…she felt a little better. “I just have to keep purring. So tell someone to make sure I’m properly fed with cheese.”

“Oh Plagg…I will. I absolutely will.” Her voice filled with emotion.

“Oh kid…don’t cry. I’m just trying to keep things light.”

Doctor Boucher had returned to the room, but stayed in the doorway, watching with curiosity but privacy. When he noticed Marinette’s tears, he approached her. “How is your pain?”

“I’m not ready to leave yet.” She answered by deflecting.

“Okay. Just let me know.” He unfurled the blanket he’d fetched, and carefully started to drape it over Adrien’s legs. “His hands are cold.” She argued.

“That’s normal for someone with blood loss. Though he’s had a transfusion and should be alright now, he’s not moving, so his circulation isn’t very good.”

“But he’s cold. Can’t you cover him?”

“Not just yet. You can hold his hand though. Just watch the bandages.”

Marinette said nothing, just held his fingers a little tighter.

She wanted to climb up on the bed with him, snuggle up under his chin, and press delicate kisses to his cheek. But hearing that it would be bad for him stopped her from just ignoring everyone and embracing him.

This wasn’t fair.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Dr. Boucher sighed. “We’ll keep him sedated a week, at least. Maybe more. We will bring him out of sedation for about an hour a day, but the goal is to keep his anxiety reduced, especially while he’s on the ventilator.”

“So I won’t be allowed to see him.” Marinette finished.

“Unfortunately, no. His father and Plagg will be here for him, though.”

It was then that Marinette realized that Adrien wasn’t wearing his Miraculous. “Plagg, where’s the ring?”

“Gabriel has it.”

“Shouldn’t Adrien be wearing it?”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Marinette.” Said the doctor. “I’m the one that suggested he not give it back to him just yet. I worried that Adrien might try to transform at the first chance he was given. And given that you did, my theory is correct.”

Marinette sighed, hating that she had been caught.

“You’re not in trouble, and we don’t blame you for doing it.” The doctor clarified. “We just can’t have either of you doing that. It won’t help.”

“I understand.” She rubbed her thumb over Adrien’s knuckles. “Thank you for letting me see him. I’ve been worried.”

“Of course. What’s your pain level?”

“Just a little longer, please.”

“Alright.”

It was then that nurse John came, accompanied by her parents, and a disheveled homeless man.

“Marinette! You shouldn’t be out of bed!” Her mother scolded.

“She knows.” Said Dr. Boucher. “But this is necessary to keep her calm. I’m watching her.”

The nurse brought over a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw. “Here you are, Marinette.”

“Thank you.” She said, taking it skeptically.

Everyone watched as she popped the lid, shook the ice around, and smelled it. Then she sipped a little bit through the straw. At the relaxed look on her face, it was obvious she found the water to be clean. She popped the lid back on and sucked more down. “This is really good.”

“It’s just water,” said Sabine, eyes watering.

“It tastes good.”

The disheveled homeless man spoke. “I’m so glad to see you awake, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I hadn’t get to check in on you since you were loaded into the ambulance.”

She hunched her shoulders. “Who are you?”

He chuckled weakly, rubbing a hand over his short beard. “I’ll admit I look pretty bad. But I didn’t realize I was unrecognizable.”

“It’s the beard, Gabriel.” Said Sabine. “It suits you though.”

“Gabriel? Gabriel Agreste?”

“Who else would be here with Adrien?”

She frowned. “Don’t know. Anyone else. Nathalie? The Gorilla? Never like you supported him before.”

“Marinette…” Sabine chastised, horrified at her behavior.

But the Marinette from the torture chamber was not known for kindness or tact. She didn’t flinch at her mother’s rebuke.

“I suppose I deserve that.” Gabriel said sadly. “Plagg has informed me that I…I may be a sociopath. This was something I wasn’t aware of before. I’m trying to improve my behavior. I’m sorry if you felt like I neglected Adrien. Things are going to be different now.”

Marinette cast her eyes over to Adrien, to her husband. “A shame this had to happen for you to see that.”

“Marinette!” Sabine exasperated.

Marinette winced, as a headache started to grow, and her wounds ached.

“I think it’s time we got you back.” Said Dr. Boucher. “We’ll get you some dinner too, hm?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do you think you could choke down some soup? You really need to eat something.”

“I said I’m not hungry!” She barked, triggering a coughing fit. The doctor simply rubbed her back as she rode it out. After it subsided, she sobbed. “I don’t want to leave him!”

The doctor crouched at her side. “Marinette, I promise you, Adrien’s not leaving this hospital without you. He’s safe. You’re safe. It’ll only be for a little while, and then we’ll put you in the same room together. Okay?”

She glared at him.

“But you’re making yourself worse by staying here like this. You’re so brave, and so smart…but let me take care of you for a little while, okay?”

A few more tears leaked out. “It hurts.”

“Then let’s get you back upstairs, and we’ll give you pain killers, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thats a good girl!” He smiled.  

[expression-in-its-essence]

The Goldfinch movie.

7 min 26 secs in : Why the fuck did they start the movie like that. Why didn't the explosion take place? Theo's mom's apartment? His anxiety? Also.. why do they keep cutting the scenes abruptly? They ain't tweets... No limit.. then??

8 min 2 sec in : Okay they went to the apartment. Audrey's sweater deserved more screen time. The lipstain on the mug in focus *chef's kiss* poetic cinema!

9 min 19 sec in : Do you see what I see? Tom Cable's face has a stark resemblance to Boris's face. Did Theo have a crush on him?

9 min 54 sec in : Mr Barbour's hand is shaking. I like that they put it in there. He was sick. Nice. (I'd imagined Audrey's apartment building entrance like they showed the Barbour's apartment building entrance. Wild.)

11 min 8 sec in : Don't shove it into his face that y'all are fancy okay? He's not used to that life style. He didn't have maids making his bed. ARE YOU GIVING HIM DRUGS, MRS BARBOUR? But you just glared at your husband for offering him the same sort of thing?? Oh God. Poor child. "it's perfectly understandable" my ass. You gave him meds just because your sleep was getting affected.

14 min 39 sec : Woah woah woah Theo wtf you're so smol how'd you do that? Also... Again. The frame of Theo and Tom standing close and Theo and Boris standing close when they kissed, Theo is wearing the same damn sweater.

16 min 58 sec in : Ayyyy Jeffery Wright!

20 min 33 sec in : "He drank a lot", Theo about his dad. Honey just wait up, you will too. (The grilled sandwich and the cute lil smile 😍 also this is the first time since the movie started that Oakes' voice isn't deep.)

23 min 54 sec in : Wizard of Oz poster, I see you!

24 min 19 sec in : I love how Oakes is expressing being caught off guard. Theo knows he did something bad and every time he's dealing with something he didn't expect to deal with, he's like OMG THEY KNOW ABOUT THE PAINTING AND IM FUCKED even if no one knows.

25 min 1 sec in : The glasses made a difference. He went from mature to cute. Angry bird to angry birb.

25 min 44 sec in : Another sweater? Or was this THE sweater of Audrey? (Off topic but Oakes is hella cute. I could murder anyone who hurts him.)

29 min 9 sec in : Pippa doesn't remember or doesn't wanna remember? There was something in her eyes that was hard to read. Also, why doesn't anyone say 'I'm sorry about your mom' to Theo? Do Americans not care? It's weird to see no response when he tells people that Audrey is dead.

31 min 17 sec in : "The Goldfinch, destroyed"? Then why is Theo upset. Good riddance. Oh yeah. I know why. It's Donna Tartt we're talking about.

32 min 39 sec in : Hobie just casually predicting the future. "It's only fake if you pass it on as an original". Theo's like, "noted, gonna do exactly that".

34 min 16 sec in : Why does Theo write like a five year old child? That's toddler handwriting! And omg all the Andy-prom-dress memes are making sense now. (Also did I mention that Mrs Barbour seems more selfish in the film than she does in the book. Like hey I'm putting up with this kid because he helps my kid. He's serving a purpose for me. What the hell.) (How old is Andy anyway? He looks younger than Theo. I think he's different. Didn't grow up like other kids. That was mentioned in the book right?)

35 min 20 sec in : Ayyy Hobie's earring!

35 min 49 sec in : He shopped for himself? Nice! Didn't know kids could shop without adult supervision in the West. (Because they can't in the East.)

35 min 50 sec in : Ayyyy Sarah Paulson! Damn she's hot. How can you dislike her? *heart eyes*

37 min 30 sec in : I can't bring myself to hate Luke Wilson since Skeleton Twins but SHUT THE FUCK UP LARRY! AUDREY DESERVED BETTER. Look at how Larry and Xandra are looking at the place like they're vultures.

39 min 34 sec : They got the airport scene right. STOP GIVING HIM DRUGS WTH IS WRONG WITH THE ADULTS IN THIS MOVIE!

41 min 12 sec in : Ayyy Popper!!!!!

43 min 27 sec in : It just dawned on Theo that he's alone. Oh god. My poor baby.

45 min 12 sec in : Let me take this moment to say that Ashleigh Cummings is pretty. And I finally get why y'all were pissed at the non linear storyline and the weird voiceovers. Guess I'd been prepared for that so it didn't really suck that much.

49 min 30 sec in : I'd imagined Boreo reunion like the Platt Theo reunion. In the day. Dang it. Also... Adult Platt Barbour was not supposed to be good looking? In the book?

55 min 34 sec in : Without context, none of it could make sense. Apologies to whoever didn't read the book beforehand. Crowley fucked this up.

58 min in : Ayyyy Finn Wolfhard! BORIS IS HERE AND IM SO EXCITED IDK WHY

1 hour in : It's such a Boris thing to leave the bag unzipped.

1 hour 3 min 20 sec in : Slumdog Millionaire's Jai Ho (2008) is playing in the background. The only song that I've recognized so far. Wow. Lets me know about the time setting. Nice.

1 hr 3 min in : Someone gif " That cost twenty dollars!" *Stare* "That would have cost twenty dollars!"

1 hr 8 min in : So Boris's room is exactly like I had imagined but Theo's room isn't. Boris just mentioned Kotku though.

1 hr 9 min 14 sec in : Isn't it hella hot in Vegas? Why are they wearing sweaters? Or does drug intake make you more vulnerable to the environment?

1 hr 10 min 15 sec in : Xandra Theo argument : gold. "Cocktail sausages that you like." I wanna laugh in Crowley's face. What was he thinking?? Omg I'm dying.

1 hr 11 min 17 sec in : The slap sound didn't work??

1 hr 13 min 53 sec in : I like serious Boris better.

1 hr 14 min in : The slum house Audrey dream thing was not in the book. That's an entirely new addition.

1 hr 18 min 26 sec in : The Welty Theo scene is awesome. The sound effects work. I feel suffocated. The ambulance noise fiasco is also nicely pulled off. (also Theo's Yellow bag was dirty af then how did it get all clean when he didn't even do anything to it?)

1 hr 20 min 57 sec in : Shhhh Potter.

1 hr 22 min in : Holy shit he got slapped twice!! Ouch! And Larry's audacity to tell Theo to stop with the crying?? Good thing he died. Asshole.

1 hr 25 min in : "You don't tell me a lot of things but that's okay". I see what you did there, Boris. Which was of course, I love you.

1 hr 26 min in : "Act normal" - Theo knows his way around drugs pretty well, doesn't he?

1 hr 30 min in : "No family No friends" line punched me in the face. (Also awww popchik's excuse was the last resort for Boris to make Theo stay.)

1 hr 31 min 17 sec in : That pause after "What do you have to tell me?". You can clearly see Boris struggling to hold something back. Which was of course, I love you.

1 hr 31 min 34 sec in : What the fuck is that music? Oh heyyyyyy they kissed!-- he fucking runs away?? Also what kind of a kangaroo runs like that? (Yes, the taxi driver watched. I don't have to wonder anymore.) (They didn't address why he took the bus instead of flying?)

1 hr 33 min in : I didn't imagine Welty's room like that at all. Also why doesn't Hobie seem happy to see Theo again?

1 hr 35 min in : Longer stretches of one storyline are kinda bearable. From drugs in storage unit to waking up beside Kitsey. We got Vegas and Young Theo. Nice. (Also, who the heck puts jewelry in shoes? Is Theo that dumb? And now I can't think of anything else than Boris piercing his ear for the emerald earring. Tumblr has fucked it up bad.)

1 hr 43 min in : They nailed the Kitsey Theo confrontation.

1 hr 44 min in : Ayyy Ozma of Oz!

1 hr 48 min in : I noticed it before but I wasn't sure... Now I am. Pippa has Welty's ring. On her finger. At all times. (also, is NYC always that noisy? Must suck to walk on the roads.)

1 hr 52 min 23 sec in : They nailed the Theo Pippa date. What's that song playing in the background? I want the name. It's almost like two hours and I still haven't seen Aneurin Barnard once. Why! (Jerome's mentioned in the movie btw.)

1 hr 52 min 51 sec in : Complained too soon. Boris is sat in the dark doing god knows what. My man Aneurin is here!

1 hr 53 min 37 sec in : BOREO REUNIONNNNNN - no don't look at me like that I only watched it thrice.

1 hr 56 min in : Boris saying "it's someone else" with a knowing look and Theo looking at him. The frickin yearning.

1 hr 57 min in : Boris is like you're unhappy, I'm here, we're both rich, let's f*ck. "We could"... What are you suggesting dude he's repressed!

1 hr 58 min in : "you unwrapped it and showed it to me." So many meanings. The heart, the love the soul... Wow. Good for you, screen play writers! ( It's kinda hilarious how Boris got mad at Theo for never quote unquote fucking opening it.)

2 hr 1 min in : I'm calling it. They're going to fuck up the Theo Hobie confrontation. They put it on the wrong time. And they also fucked up the text from the book.

2 hr 5 min 48 sec in : Even Platt is saving his sister's face. Also where did Todd go? Did he never grow up? I wish Mrs Barbour didn't use Theo like she did.

2 hr 7 min in : The frame where Boris is between Kitsey and Theo. Chef's kiss.

2 hr 10 min 54 sec in : *intense music playing* Boris put his leg up on the table and I burst into laughter THOSE ARE THE FAMOUS FUCK ME PUMPS.

2 hr 11 min in : AAAAA THE FOREHEAD TOUCH AAAAAAA (Theo just knows without looking that Boris is close enough to touch? Theo are you sure you don't feel feelings for him?)

2 hr 12 min in : Theo is so worried that I'm not sure if it's for Boris or for losing the painting again. Omg he just murdered a man. Oh god.

2 hr 14 min in : Theo is spiralling. In the movie they imply that Hobie played a part in him attempting suicide. So wrong. Poor Hobie. In the book that wasn't the case.

2 hr 15 min in : The transition of the Goldfinch into Audrey, wow. Also, is it the first time we're seeing her? The movie started so long ago that I've forgotten if I saw Theo and Audrey in the museum. Boris following right after Audrey? That's a subliminal message. Boris is here to rescue y'all.

2 hr 16 min in : No shit Boris is freaking out right now.

2 hr 17 min in : The diner scene. They're both crying. "Happy Christmas, Potter" - which was of course, I love you.

2 hr 18 min in : No don't you dare compare Audrey and Mrs Barbour. Audrey would never drug her child or use him for her benefit.

2 hr 20 min in : Poor kid bumps into his mom lol. I found it funny.

On the whole

The movie was nice if you'd read the book beforehand. The first hour was steak, The second hour was Korean BBQ and the rest of the twenty minutes were minced beef. If you get what I mean. Weird analogy. It could have been much better. But it was really very nice in some places. Most places I'd say.

I didn't like how the pop songs ruined the mood of certain moments. I didn't like how you couldn't hear the conversation over the music playing. For example in the engagement party when Platt and Theo talked. Or in the diner scene.

Both Borises killed the accent thing. They tried their best. Cut them some slack.

Oakes deserves an Oscar for holding up this movie on his smol shoulders. I was shook at how a kid could act that well.

Popchik deserved more screen time. I'm still pissed they didn't add the Popchik Boris reunion. But then they couldn't make it chronological, what were we supposed to expect anyway.

Ansel Elgort y'all. Theo sure improved his handwriting lol. Ansel's writing is nice. He was actually good in this movie. Better than he was in The Fault In Our Stars. The internet is just mean. The critics too. I will never understand the hate.

All in all, it could have been a better adaptation but it didn't suck as bad as everyone made it out to be. John Clownery should be punished nonetheless. Special shout-out to Roger Deakins for making it work.

[ageofevermore]

1-96

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

it’s a dual sliding door, so usually one sides open. but preferably, both doors are closed. 

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

sometimes in the summer, not often though. 

(3) Can You Whistle?

yes! 

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

well for some reason there’s a guy on my TV singing God Bless The USA

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

purple

(6) Relationship Status.

single because my favorite omegle guy won’t answer me 

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

48F / 9C

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

i woke up wishing i was still asleep

(9) How Many Followers?

835

(10) Zodiac Sign.

Sun: Capricorn, Rising: Aries, Moon: Aquarius 

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

brown / hazel 

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

no

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

obviously, i’m not completely insane

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

whatever fucking book my english class assigned...

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

i literally only have a text book by me and opening it is triggering

(16) Favourite Anime?

i don’t watch anime

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom...about greys anatomy...but still my mom about christmas and my birthday. i cry alot, but i like REALLY cried about those two topics

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

chapstick, trauma, candles 

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

it’s only 10am and i haven’t even thought about breakfast 

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

yes, and then my mom yells at me because i do nothing “subtly” and the entire car shakes

(21) Favourite Animal?

white siberian tigers, snow leopards, dolphins, and now elephants

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

unfortunately. i love gymnastics, but like, i’m not trying to watch men in toboggans and swim caps 

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

anywhere between 12pm and 3am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

no, i never wear makeup because it makes me look more ugly

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

ocean

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

besides my friends i don’t really have a favorite blog, i stick to my circle and don’t venture very far 

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

bottled. 

(28) What Makes You Happy?

i couldn’t tell you...

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

without, but i always start with it on. it never lasts more then two songs.

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

dogs

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

a shade of purple from the crayola 200 pack

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

wii

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

ocean

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

hell mothering fucking year i do baby, lets take that train to hogwarts 

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

its a friends pj crop, so black and white stripped with the central perks logo

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

yup

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

save money 

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

my cup 

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

stranger things ig

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

no, those assholes scare me, but i’ve grown + released them 

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

um chile, i would follow my best friend off a cliff with no hesitation

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

all the fucking time 

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

ITS MY FAVORITE FORM OF TRAVEL 

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

the hannah montana movie

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

peanuts 

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

one direction 

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

yes 

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

yes, but it takes me forever to fall asleep 

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

yea, depends on the day and the level of scardy bitch i feel like being 

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

i love both 

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

hell yeah, let me feel the beat in my kidneys 

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

carve pumpkins 

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

no tears left to cry by ag

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

fall

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now?

a churro + peppermint mocha frap

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

(58) What Is Your Gender?

female (she/her)

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

iced coffee / sweet tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

yeah, i have environmental homework and US I homework and Algebra II homework

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

bruh, idk 

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

no, that shit’s never made 

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

jigglypuff 

(64) Favourite Social Media?

pintrest 

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

they’re okay

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

no. i don’t miss thins very easily, i’m away from home for a week and i have no doubt that i could spend the rest of my life without going back. 

(67) Are You A Virgin?

yes sir

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

idk, some really thick and heavy in hydration set 

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

sleep in my car, though both options scare me 

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

i have a strained relationship with my bio dad, but unfortunately i still have to associate myself with him a few times a year 

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

black widow or spiderman 3, but i’m willing to see anything just take me back! 

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?

i’ve never had an ex, but i do wish krystian would stop ignoring me. stupid scotland boys 

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“friends dont lie”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

green / brown 

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

i loved swinging, but a few years ago it started making me dizzy so i don’t swing very often anymore. but tire swings especially are my shit 

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

chicken flavored ramen 

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

yes 

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

yeah...because they’re dying and if i have the skills to save them...why wouldn’t i?

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

honey, i do full virtual high school. we stan a pandemic (we don’t)

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

social media stalker is my middle name. not anymore though, i haven’t been asked to find a boy in a while 

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

no. i hate it. anxiety city man. 

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

i don’t wear rings, but i really want to.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

closed

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

woke up, watched stranger things, made ramen 

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

whatever i fall asleep in. 

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

are beauty and skincare the same? because i don’t own much makeup. 

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

i used to be a night person. but this pandemic has hit hard with depression and i’ve become a stay in bed all day person

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

2048 balls, among us, ball sort puzzle, bubble shooter, bubble sort, color roll 3D, drag n merge, fit and squeeze, hole.io, mario kart, match 3D, nonogram.com, paint the cube, roof rails, solitare, spit, stacky dash, stair run, timber run...

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

After my moms fiance died, I had a dream that he was able to come see my fifth grade play (he died just before it happened) and when we were walking out he got into the white car from fast and furious (we watched the movies together) and said he would see me again soon, then he drove off...like talk about weird 

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

rootbeer 

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

i like a good clicking sound 

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

sweats everyday all day 

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

like a fucking wreck 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

netflix 

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

i want a bunch of little symbols, and i think it would be cute if i got a T for my mom, but i can’t tell her that because she might think i’m going soft and exploit my show of affection (jfc why am i like this lmao)

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

colleen ballinger 

[ahnsael]

Two years later, the last physical remnant of the trouble I got into is going away tomorrow.

The DMV removed the restriction from my license today (it was a three hour wait, which I didn’t expect going in the middle of the week at opening time, but I’m glad I got it done -- I could have done it a month ago but was nervous about the process of getting these last loose ends tied), and after a couple games of phone tag between the manufacturer of the device and the auto shop which services it to finalize approval on both of their ends, tomorrow I get the ignition interlock removed from my car.

Now there’s just the SR-22 insurance for two more years before I can go back to regular insurance (but the SR-22 isn’t much more expensive than the regular version anyway).

We have a guy at work who’s mind isn’t in it lately. Because he just his FOURTH DUI. His third was a legal battle (three in seven years becomes a felony and involves prison time and there was a question as to whether it was from the occurrence of the first one or the sentencing and the court gave him the benefit of the doubt but then he did it AGAIN two months later). I don’t see how you don’t learn your lesson after the first one. And even if not then, the punishment is more severe for subsequent instances. So he’s looking at a lengthy prison sentence this time.

I got 48 hours. Well, technically 62 days, but 60 days were suspended pending my completion of other court-ordered responsibilities like both group and individual counseling, DUI school, a victim’s impact panel (in which victims of crashes caused by drunk drivers told their stories -- including some VERY graphic images), being under the watch of “alternative sentencing” for a year (basically that meant zero drinking, random tests to see whether I had had anything to drink, home visits to see if I had any alcohol around, all of which punishable by either a day in jail or kicking in the entire 60-day suspended sentence), having an interlock installed in ANY car I might drive for a year after reinstating my license (I only drive my own so I only needed the one, at $67 per month which from what I’m told is a pretty good price; I’ll have to pay “$50-$60 or somewhere around there, I’m not entirely sure” tomorrow when I get it removed but it SUCKS for people with no credit/debit card because it’s literally the ONLY way you’re allowed to pay, keeping low-income people without a card from being able to fulfill that obligation and that order does NOT expire a year from sentencing, it expires one year FROM WHEN YOU REINSTATE YOUR LICENSE and you can’t reinstate your license until you have the device installed -- I had to show the DMV the installation paperwork last year), and SR-22 insurance (including Statement of financial Responsibility -- that’s the SR part) for three years.

At one point as I talked to the (actually very nice) DMV lady today she asked whether I still had the device installed or whether it had already been removed. She framed it as a way to say “Show them this temporary license which shows no restriction and they’ll be able to remove it” but I’m guessing it was a “gotcha” question, as removing it before having the restriction removed from my license would have violated the restriction of my license. But I bet they get people saying “My year was up last week so I had it removed,” therefore getting themselves in more trouble (I was actually half-expecting them to want to see it in my car, maybe punch some buttons and get my latest statistics as far as “has he had any violations since the last time he had it serviced and we were sent his data?” but that didn’t happen...I also had the original installation paperwork and the original court order in my jacket pocket just in case, since I had to show both when I reinstated my license, even though they scanned them at the time -- when I first reinstated my license they forgot the restriction so I had to go back and have them put it on). I’m also wondering whether the three-hour wait was intentional, since most people are there for renewals or new licenses or to change their address or register a vehicle, and those of us in the “C” group broke the law, which was why we were there. Kind of makes me feel like they were testing our patience to see if we gave them attitude about seeing SO MANY people who got there after us called first. But I was as nice to the DMV lady as I would have been had I waited 10 minutes, and by the end the lady next to her behind the counter was complimenting my Genie tie (Genie from Aladdin -- I went there straight from work this morning so I was still dressed up from work).

An interesting aside...I shave my head, but have a beard. I asked the lady, pointing to the gray under my chin, “At what point to I change my official hair color to gray?” (the color listed on the original police report). She said it was basically up to me, and that I could even put “bald” if I wanted to since I shave my head, but sometimes the hair grows out a bit between shavings and I want to make sure I’m in compliance. But I pointed to my eyebrows as evidence of the “brown” that I put down, and she accepted that. She said switching to “gray” is pretty much up to me as long as SOME of the original color remains, but then we shared a laugh about people with completely gray hair who put down “black” as their hair color (that was when I pointed out my non-graying eyebrows as evidence that while I do have some gray in there, it still is mostly brown).

She also laughed when I said the only “stat” that had changed in the past 13 months since reinstating my license was my weight, which I upped by 15 pounds for honesty’s sake. She said she NEVER would have done that, but then I said that I used to be about 35 pounds more than I am now, so I’m pretty good with where I’m at and would rather be accurate on a REAL ID-compliant license -- even though weight fluctuates, the weight I put is my average these days.

And after I got a little worried about phone battery after playing cell phone games for an hour, I then spent the next two hours *almost* finishing Rolly Crump’s book “It’s Kind of a Cute Story,” which I hadn’t picked up in so long that the Kindle app had updated and completely forgotten where I had left off (I only realized that I read two chapters that I had already read when I came upon a section that I had highlighted). I’m about halfway through the last chapter now. The Kindle app takes a LOT less battery than playing a game that has to communicate with the internet (especially since the DMV’s WiFi was worse than Disneyland’s as far as reliability, which is kind of saying a lot).

But anyway, other than the (only slightly) higher insurance bill for the next two years, all of this kerfuffle will be behind me tomorrow. No more breathing into my car before I can start it. No more worrying that “I bartended this morning, and I spilled some on my pants...will the interlock pick that up and fail me? (it happened a couple times, as did using an alcohol-based window de-icer this winter and then having the fumes from the can in the car when I tried to start it; I learned to leave the can outside the car after using it, but there are “rolling tests” where they are trying to see if you drank after starting the car and have six minutes to provide a passing same of breath and so I would have to pull over, remove the can, and then re-take the test to make sure I didn’t get COMPLETELY locked out -- I did have violations based on this, but found out a week ago when I emailed the DMV that it takes four consecutive months of such violations for the terms of the interlock to be extended, even if I had to air out my car before I could successfully start my car at the time).

After those violations, I was worried my time was going to be extended, so I was SO happy to receive a reply from the DMV last week telling me that they had looked at my records, and I was good to get the restriction removed. I had thought ANY violation would result in “more time with this thing in my car.”

And on the WAY to the DMV...I ran into a problem I’ve run into a couple times in the past couple months.

Ever since getting the interlock serviced in December, I’ve had issues with it rebooting itself.

Now, if you turn off the car with a pending test, that’s another violation. And the thing would tell me to breathe into it (it’s actually more throat-humming with this device -- it prevents someone taking a lungful of fresh air and then breathing in to beat it; humming in your throat means air from INSIDE of you is going through and it can detect alcohol you maybe thought you could hide).

So there have been times I’ve driven to work, parked, and just before turning off my car the interlock would ask for a “rolling test.” I couldn’t just turn my car off. That would be a violation, which the DMV would hear about. But if I picked the device up and it went blank as I blew into it, then said “Initializing,” I learned NOT to turn the car off (the hard way, when I got a violation for it). Just sit there in the parking spot, engine running, and wait for it to ask for a test again.

On my way to the DMV today, though, the device wanted a “rolling test.” Which I expected. The first “rolling test” can be 5-10 minutes after starting the car, and subsequent tests come every 45 minutes to an hour (and you have six minutes to provide a breath sample before you are locked out). When I drove to Disneyland in September, I can’t even guess as to how many tests I had to take as I drove, to make sure I was still sober.

But today, it asked me to re-test. I did. I heard the tell-tale “click” by my left knee that tells me it just sent a signal to the car that it’s okay to restart if I shut it down. But instead of “PASS” on the screen, the screen was blank. Then it said “initializing.” Then it asked me to test again with a beep. I did so. This time, it not only made the click on my ignition switch to turn it on, but said “PASS” -- fir about a half-second before going back to “INITIALIZING.”

When it came back up, I only had two minutes and 30 seconds left to provide a sample. I thought, “If this thing keeps resetting itself, I’m going to get a violation on the way to the DMV for permission to remove this.”

Fortunately, on the third try, the test was passed WITHOUT the device restarting itself (I am SO glad to get rid of this thing because it’s been doing this a lot for the past two months and while I’m passing the tests, it doesn’t always KNOW that I pass the tests before rebooting itself).

But at 10:00am tomorrow, I get this thing OUT of my car. If it’s anything like the installation, I’ll be there for about an hour. Which will still beat my wait time at the DMV today. I’ll probably finish Rolly Crump’s book and then either play some video games on my phone or start something new to read, like the continuations of the book which I’ve already bought.

But video games are more likely -- this shop, as I’ve seen personally and heard from other customers, does not only good work, but QUICK work, so I don’t want to get too into reading and then be disappointed when they have it done.

[fireloom]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

I was tagged by @thatsjustsocliche

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush? There’s like 7 hairbrushes in my house, so multicoloured.

2. Name a food you never eat? Asparagus. If you ever give me that wiggly green thing I will smack you.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? I swing from being too hot to too cold, there s no inbetween

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Attempting to animate! (it didn’t work out)

5. What is your favourite candy bar? Twix

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? Does my own Gymnastics championships’ count?

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?  ”How the fuck am I suppose to remember that?!” That's it, that’s what I just said when I read this.

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Mint choc chip, love that shit

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Coffee. The answer will always be coffee

10. Do you like your wallet? I guess? It holds my money.

11. What was the last thing you ate? Cookies dipped in coffee

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I haven't brought clothes in months (even before the quarantine)

13. The last sporting event you watched? Like on tv? The Australian Open (tennis).

14. What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? Caramel

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? An actual sms text message? My ex, cause I had a sim card back then.

16. Ever go camping? I was born in the forest, so I basically camped my entire childhood. I am a wood nymph.

17. Do you take vitamins? When I remember (hardly ever)

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? Buddy, I’ve been inside a church maybe, MAYBE twice in my entire life.

19. Do you have a tan? Right now, no.

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw? Who buys straws?

22. What colour socks do you usually wear? Mismatched and with a few holes.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t have a license but when I was illegally driving across the country I was overtaking roadtrains at 150Kmh. So, yeah, a little.

24. What terrifies you? People throwing balls at me. I involuntarily shriek like a child whenever a ball comes near me.

25. Look to your left, what do you see? My tv.

26. What chore do you hate? Washing dishes. I like washing dishes but it fucks up my back like nothing else, and I get flashbacks to an overcrowded cafe, me in the backroom, frantically washing spoons cause we done run out, right before I’m called out to the house by a bell like a doggo just so I can bring more dirty dishes back to the overfull sink and make small talk with vegans. Good times.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Oh fuck me, another one

28. hat’s your favourite soda?  Creaming soda

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Dude, I get my groceries delivered ain’t no way I’m going outside for drive-through.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to? My mummy

31. Favourite cut of beef? Ahhh…. the beef cut?

32. Last song you listened to? Meg Myers - Desire (Hucci Remix)

33. Last book you read? Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

34. Favourite day of the week? Tomorrow.

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I guess?

36. How do you like your coffee? Usually with sugar and milk, mocha for a treat.

37. Favourite pair of shoes? My Doc Martins 

38. The time you normally go to bed? These days? 5-6am.

39. The time you normally get up? 12pm

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunset, cause I’m never awake for sunrises.

41. How many blankets on your bed? One and even that’s too much.

42. Describe your kitchen plates: Not many, boring.

43. Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? I Vodka shots, chased by more vodka

44. Do you play cards? I love cards

45. What colour is your car?   Don’t have a car

46. Can you change a tire? Yeah if you gave me enough time.

47. Your favourite province? Idfk XD

48. Favourite job you’ve ever had? My first job. I worked manning the counter at a hippy-dippy 60’s/ 70’s memorabilia shop. My boss was this silver haired hippy drug dealer. I was high everyday, gave the wrong change more often than not, and spent my working hours picking aesthetic music, drawing, and pretending to be in a movie. I was paid in weed. Best job ever.

49. How did you get your biggest scar? Dog walking.

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? Hanging with my bud online.

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching Good Omens (ALL OF IT)

my favourite novel is now my favourite mini-series and IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL

under the cut: a very long, spoilery six-episode reaction to MY NEW FAVOURITE THING EVER

--

may 31st 07:36pm nz

i posted my episode 1 reaction a couple hours ago but that got ZERO NOTES so i assume people are either avoiding spoilers or aren’t interested, which is fine, but i’m just gonna put all my reactions in one big post so anyone who IS interested doesn’t have to read 6 separate posts c:

edit june 1st 04:08am: btw i watched using a free trial on amazon prime, which i’m pretty sure is worldwide. soooo if yOU WANT TO WATCH THIS, YOU CAN, FOR FREE

--

EPISODE 1: In the Beginning

--

04:03pm

idk how much i’m gonna type, whether i’ll post a reaction to the entire thing in one post....... or how much i’ll end up watching right now

kinda want to spread it out and save it as a treat for after i’ve done some writing

but right now i wanna watch before writing

so maybe i’ll do one ep, write something, then return to this?

edit: aahhaha that didn’t happen

-

04:04pm

I’M SO EXCITED

I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG

well... since 2011 when i first read the book

but regardless it’S BEEN 84 YEARS

-

04:05

okay first off i did not know amazon prime did adverts at the start of their videos. so i was like SINCE WHEN WAS CHILDISH GAMBINO/DONALD GLOVER IN GOOD OMENS

and then

yeah

no

either way i thought it was a good opening

-

W A R

NING

cool cool cool cool cool

-

omg i’m used to where the netflix full-screen button is, and on amazon prime that’s the “next episode” button so i gotta be real careful

-

dear god my video quality is TERRIBLE

i.......... i might torrent this show and watch it offline

this is horrendous i can’t see a damn thing

i have never seen pixels this big

-

04:11

okay the quality calmed down after a minute

i loooove the intro, i love that it’s basically word for word from the book

i feel like i’d find it funnier if i hadn’t read the book 3 months ago

-

also? god is a woman? yes

-

04:13

is it just me or does the snek have a slightly david tennant-esque quality about it

-

i’m so happy adam and eve are black

-

04:17

omfg. aziraphale said “ineffable” and now CRAWLEY’S CHECKING HIM OUT TRYING TO SEE IF HE HAS ANY JUNK

WOW

...or y’know, looking for a flaming sword. SAME FUCKING THING.

-

also i looove how FLUFFY azi is

-

azi: “do hope i didn’t do the wrong thing”

i fucking love them both uhrgughhhuhuhughuhhh

-

04:21

small sob for cuteness

umbella wings

-

04:23

in the opening titles, crowley just stopped a spaceship and aziraphale turned it into fish

i feel like that was a douglas adams reference and i’m on board

-

04:25

the entire time i read the book, up until i saw video promos of this show, i thought “crowley” was said the same way as spn’s “crowley”, as in “crahwlee”

not “crOhwlee”

i definitely like that they’re different though

both probably named after aleister crowley tbh. all of whom are queer.

-

THOSE SWAYING HIPS

i haven’t found david tennant attractive in about 9 years but WHOOOP HELLO AGAIN

somehow attractive for entirely different reasons than before. like. my taste changed but tHEN

-

i’m on crowley’s side, taking down a cellphone network is VERY ANNOYING

-

04:35

crowley: shitshitshitshithsit

:D

i can’t wait for aziraphale’s big swear

-

04:37

i miss eating sushi

sushi was great

-

04:43

this baby delivery thing is sTRESSFUL

“aaaaurthurrrrr”

nooo

poor lady

-

04:45

“little toesie woesies”

where’s the sister mary loquacious fan club and where do i sign up

-

i’m glad they colour-coded the babies and did the playing card explanation because this part of the book always tied my brain in knots

-

05:00

this is reminding me how utterly gross england is

-

“MY POINT IS............. DOLPHINS”

YES

-

05:06

see in the book

i never once realised that the nanny was crowley in disguise

-

05:11

digging the snake tattoo sideburns

-

05:14

and yeah the short hair looks good

-

05:15

fINALLY crowley called azi “angel”

-

05:17

crowley: “oh no no don’t do your magic act, pleeease”

the magic act scene is one of my fave parts of the book <3

-

05:20

aw man they cut out the best part

i mean i get why

the kids shouted a bunch of gay slurs at aziraphale

and there were no secret service people with guns

but aw mannn

AND THEY CUT OUT THE BIT WITH THE DEAD DOVE AND CROWLEY BRINGS IT BACK TO LIFE FOR AZIRAPHALE

THAT WAS MY SINGLE FAVOURITE BIT OF THE BOOK

AND IT’S GONE

;C

-

OH WAIT

THERE’S THE DOVE

OH GOOD

-

aw man aziraphhale just brought it back himself

i liked it better in the book

they sat on the steps outside and crowley comforted azi and took the dove and fixed it for him, and then it flew off

idk i just had such a perfect image of that moment in my mind and this was..... good but not the same at all

could be gayer

-

05:27

good dog

-

05:28

crowley: *snifsnif* something’s changed

aziraphale: “oh it’s a new cologne, my barber suggeste--”

crowley: “no no i know what you smell like”

gayyyyyyyyyy <3

-

05:31

okay that’s ep 1 watched!!! i’ll watch more maybe later tonight :D

ENJOYING THIS SO FAR

not as gay as expected ........YET

needs 400% more “angel” and “dear”

--

EPISODE 2: The Book

07:42pm

pillar of salt guy: “something smells evil”

the fact crowley smells evil and yet aziraphale likes his company regardless says a lot

-

07:49

fully expected crowley to say “i didn’t fall, i sauntered vaguely downwards”

-

07:50

iiiii’m finding the narrator a little annoying

maybe it’s because i read the book so i know what’s going on

but saying “he has four items to deliver in his van. he works for this postage company and he’s making his first delivery in a formal warzone”.... idk i feel like all of those things could be shown visually? saying it rather than showing it probably saved seven seconds of airtime, but damn

-

07:56

i wonder if the narrator was a later addition to this, for new audience clarity? the script for god just seems a little stilted, idk

edit: i kind of got used to it, but it was still jarring, which i’m sure was the opposite of the intended effect

-

08:09

the saddest newt

-

08:13

she’s kind of exactly how i imagined her in the book

and definitely my fave next to aziraphale and crowley

-

08:17

i feel so bad for crowley’s plants

poor babies

-

08:19

for some reason i imagined her as a redhead. kind of more like mrs weasley

-

08:33

these wee children......... so soft.......... so smol

-

08:25

v happy with the casting for pepper

tiny downside is that we lose another redhead

-

08:29

i find the kids’ conversations hilarious because they’re the same age as harry potter when he goes to hogwarts the first time

idk if this is what eleven year olds are like in real life, but when i read the book i did feel distinctly like they spoke like eight year olds

-

08:35

crowley: “i like spooky. big spooky fan, me”

he just sounds like the tenth doctor

-

08:36

YEEE FINALLY CROWLeY DOING NICE THINGS FOR AZIRAPHALE

-

08:48

"you know, crowley, i’ve always said that deep down you really are a--”

“SHUT IT”

DON’T YOU CALL HIM NICE YOU PRETTY BASTARD

-

loquacious: “sorry to break up an intimate moment”

-

08:45

i imagined anathema’s tripod thing to be about 5 feet tall, not a cute little knee-high thing

-

08:48

freddie mercury: BIIIII CYCLE

BIIIIIIII CYCLE

yeah i was waiting for that

-

crowley: “get in, angel”

HE MURMURED

DON’T MURMUR YOUR TERMS OF ENDEARMENT noo

-

09:00

end of episode 2!!! i freaking loved aziraphale vs the book <3

-

the credits for this ep credit konnie huq as someone named pam but idk who that is? i had a crush on konnie huq as a kid when she was a presenter on “blue peter”

OH WAIT RIGHT the lady on the breakfast show on crowley’s tv. aw such a small part. hoping we’ll see her again later

edit: nope. might rewatch that part to pay more attention. obviously i didn’t even recognise her after like.. 15 years

--

EPISODE 3: Hard Times

09:05pm

brb gotta get some food

-

09:14

and now i wait for food

EPISODE THREE LET’S GO

is this the one that’s just crowley and azi’s backstory?

-

09:16

i can’t even put my finger on why but he’s getting more attractive

-

09:21

ah yes

aziraphale is eating shellfish and trying to tempt crowley

“oh... that’s your job”

i love this part of their dynamic

-

09:29

i adore when crowley makes aziraphale smile <3

-

09:43

SAUNTERED VAGUELY DOWNWARDS

YEE

-

i like seeing how crowley’s sunglasses differ throughout history

-

09:36

“if they knew i’d been... fraternising”

this is such a forbidden romance i love ittttt

-

09:49

CROWLEY SAVED THE BOOKS

and SOFT VIOLIN PLAYS

THIS IS A FUCKING LOVE STORY

k this is my favourite part of the show so far <3

-

09:50

this angel just fell in love

right in that moment

i see cartoon hearts around him

-

09:54

just had to pause for a second bc there was some broccoli in my tea :c

-

09:56

awwwwwwwwwwwwww 

he got him holy waterrrrrrr

-

UNIVERSAL ANGLE OF HETEROSEXUAL LONGING

-

definitely feeling a lot of “NOW KISS” right about now

-

09:59

LAUGHING BECAUSE THE OPENING CREDITS ARE LITERALLY HALFWAY INTO THE EPISODE

-

10:03

throughout the entire book azi just came across as the kind of person who wore glasses even though glasses were never once mentioned

I AM GLAD TO SEE GLASSES

-

10:12

i like this colour palette and the gold in their makeup

-

10:27

“we can go off together”

omg the world’s ending and crowley’s all RUN AWAY WITH MEEE

-

10:31

okay then

good eyelashes

edit: i also like how their relationship was explained with a simple tap on the wrist: hurry up, you’re on the clock, i’m a sex worker, finish your call because i’m leaving

-

10:32

episode three DONE

these eps don’t feel long enough

maybe that means the pacing is just right? who knows

i feel like i should be doing something other than watching this but..... why

--

EPISODE 4: Saturday Morning Funtime

10:48pm

aziraphale is SOFT and he’s perfect like that <3

fuck u gabriel and your body shaming

-

10:53

i want delivery guy to be okay BUT I READ THE BOOK

so............... i know he will be...... eventually

-

10:55

how did they get photographs taken in the 1600s

-

oh gabriel’s eyes ARE purple, i thought i was seeing them wrong

-

11:02

“maud i love you”

noo ho hoooo

-

11:09

a little douglas adams, definitely

BUT NO PEPPER POT DALEK

AWW

-

11:10

the season is very much jumping between summer and autumn

though i suppose that’s the point, tadfield is just perfect

-

11:12

“which the internet has begun to refer to as the kracken”

i wonder if good omens inadvertently inspired me to write The Wireless a couple of years back. wouldn’t be surprising

edit: no, couldn’t have, because the internet wasn’t much of a thing (or a thing at all?) in the book, given its publish date

-

11:20

that’s a v nice dress/top combo

gosh she’s so pretty

-

11:30

crowley: “we can run away together!!! alpha centauri!!!”

aw baby

-

crowley: “i’m going home, angel! i’m getting my stuff, and i am leaving. and when i am up in the stars, i won’t even think about you!!”

THAT WAS A V SAD BREAKUP NOOOOO

why has there not been a single “dear” yet :c

-

11:37

oh no, this part

i loved this in the book but i am NOT READY for maggots

damn you gaiman

-

11:39

he’s so cute

and so gay

-

11:42

uriel: “don’t think your boyfriend in the dark glasses will get you special treatment in hell”

he looks kinda delighted uriel called crowley his boyfriend

i would say he looks worried but this shot was used without context in the trailer and it came across as genuine joy, i actually thought he was looking at crowley

-

11:46

i thought it was a strange throne before

a spider at the centre of a web

dark halo

yeah

-

11:51

oh now she’s a redhead???

-

also i’m glad they implied newt and anathema just kissed because the sex thing was weird in the book

-

okay never mind

hmm

-

12:05

aziraphale: “oh.................ffffUCK.”

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH

-

12:07

oh no

it’s happening

oh no

i hate this part but i love what happens because of it

-

12:29am

i have eaten and now i have tea and i am back from MORE BOOKSHOP FIRE

-

EPISODE 5: The Doomsday Option

12:31

nuuuuuuuuuu

and “you’re my best friend” playing while crowley’s tryna call azi

nuuuuuu

-

“somebody killed my best friend”

jfhsdfjsdj

/sobs

-

12:36

freddie mercury: “somebody find me somebody tooo ooo looove”

edit: the narration WRECKED this. it was so dramatic and visually emotional but the voiceover completely screwed with it and it was SO UNNECESSARY.

-

12:46

crowley: “i lost my best friend”

he says, while crying, while talking to that friend

-

THE ONE BOOK HE WANTS IS THE ONE CROWLEY SAVED

THEY’RE SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER

-

azi wanted to share crowley’s body

and then said they had to get a wiggle on

-

12:52

they cut out the hell’s angels / lesser horsemen

i figured they would, but still a shame

-

1:54

in the book tracy’s “spirit guide” was native american but daaaaaamn that part really needed to go

now she’s irish which is... better, probably

-

01:01

ron: “SHUT. UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP”

this guy’s having the time of his life

-

01:03

he wave

-

01:05

1926 bentley; sexiest car right next to the ‘67 chevy impala

-

01:08

omg gotta translate and explain the road

-

01:13

OH NO the maggots are about to happen

they changed the placement of this but it worked for the pacing

-

OH NO

-

k well the maggots were gross but not as bad as i imagined

-

01:31

omg the dog turned upside down rather than be picked up

i wonder if that was intentional

dog: I DO NOT WANT UP

-

01:34

pfff he’s reading “american gods” by neil gaiman

-

01:44am

10/10 flaming car

-

EPISODE 6: The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives

01:51am

here we go...

-

01:55

azi so happy that crowley said the dress suits him <3

-

01:57

rip bentley

-

01:59

aziraphale: “we are here to lick some serious butt!!”

crowley: “kick!! kick, aziraphale, for heaven’s sake”

-

02:06

i freaking love the parallel between the Them and the horsemen in the book

and i love that they did face shots to show the parallel

pepper = war

wensleydale = famine

brian = pollution

adam = death

the parallel is less clear for brian and wensleydale, at least in the show. was more obvious in the book. but at the same time i kind of got confused between them a lot, brian was always eating, but wensleydale was named after cheese

-

02:14

pepper: “i do not endorse everyday sexism”

/STOMPS ON WAR’S FOOT

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

-

02:25

shadwell: “anyone who wants ta get ta the hoore of babylon will have to get past me”

earlier anathema said “boyfriend”

may i point out that all the adults are paired up

shadwell & madame tracy

newt & anathema

......and....

aziraphale and crowley

-

0:28

crowley: “we are FUCKED”

these two need a holiday

-

azi: “come up with something... or.... or i’ll never talk to you again”

he knows crowley loves him aww

perfect blackmail material

-

02:32

they went from trying to kill him to being his gay angel parents real quick

-

02:35

thought they were holding hands for a second there

edit: regardless, a whole damn airfield and they’re 2cm apart

-

02:39

happy ending for the postman, hooray~

-

crowley about the bookshop, softly: “it burned down. remember? you can stay at my place”

awwWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

-

02:42

CROWLEY GOT HIS CAR BACK AND YET HE TOOK A TAXI

-

02:45

anathema: “why is your car called dick turpin?”

newt: “dick turpin is a famous highwayman. it’s called dick turpin because everywhere it goes, it holds up traffic”

i laughed

this wasn’t in the book and i always wondered

-

02:51

i wonder if holy water wouldn’t burn him because he’s too good

-

03:00

gabriel: “don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine, i’m the angel fucking gabriel”

really enjoying these swears

-

03:03

i thought so

-

03:30am

paused for a bit to get ready for bed

i thought it was after 4am but nope

-

“there would be other summers, but not one like this. not ever again”

that genuinely makes me emotional

i think that’s why it’s my favourite book, i can relive that summer with them

-

03:35

omg

-

OH MY GOD

WAIT

THEY

OH MY GOD

THEY WEREN’T IMMUNE, THEY JUST SWAPPED PLACES

HOLY SHIT

edit: THIS WAS NOT IN THE BOOK AND IT’S BRILLIANT AND I’M GLAD IT’S HERE

-

crowley: “let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?

azi: “~temptation accomplished~!”

THEY’RE SO STINKING CUTE

-

“just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing”

perfect

STILL NO USE OF “DEAR” THOUGH AND IT’S KILLING ME

-

that ending with the bird made me teary-eyed

-

credits: BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AS SATAN

WOW

OKAY

AKSFJDSF /snorts

-

the end credits and the song i just wanna bawl my eyes out

i loved this so much and i’m so glad it was GOOD

i loved that they added so many people of colour. in the book i imagined crowley played by alexander siddig (star trek: deep space 9 era) but i guess david tennant makes a pretty good crowley too

i’m trying not to be upset that my favourite scene with the dove and aziraphale’s affectionate use of “dear” was taken out

but 

this was damn good regardless. even gayer in places than in the book

-

this nightingale song is my new favourite song

i never got the reference before

“and as we kissed and said goodnight, an nightingale sang in berkeley square:

GAY

SO GAY

i love

-

the end of the credits “For Terry”

ACTUAL OUT LOUD SOBBING

TERRY YOU WOULD’VE LOVED THIS

NEIL DID YOU PROUD

-

oh this was so beautiful

i’m gonna watch it again with my family probably within the week. i’m so emotionally tender now

azIRAPHALE WAS SO FLUFFY AND CROWLEY WAS SO NICE ABOUT THE BOOKS

ugh i love them more than ever

anathema...... i don’t know if i relate to her, want to be her, look up to her, want her to mentor me, live with her, or find her attractive. maybe all of the above. but she was freaking PERFECT. PE R F E CT 

the casting was so... just right. thank you casting people for anathema.

like... i also didn’t mind the newt/anathema thing so much now. it was hard to tell in the book how much of a relationship they had after, but that smile she gave while lying in bed the morning after, that worked, it said a lot. and i like that it was her choice to burn the prophecy sequel rather than newt’s suggestion

gabriel was amusing. like.. i’m glad he wasn’t in the book. but he was great here. also really like michael and uriel. uriel was so damn beautiful.

i also would really have liked to see a mention of the fact crowley and aziraphale are both agender and potentially asexual. not even a hint of it here. buuuuuut it guess i know from the book. so.

my favourite episode was of course episode 3 with crowley and aziraphale’s 6000 year backstory. especially the 1940s bit where crowley saved the books <3

this show was was less confusing than the book too. ugh it was done so well

OH

we didn’t see where the soldier guy went when aziraphale zapped him away!!! in the book he reappeared safely back home and went out to see his family. to be fair i don’t know whether he died and went to heaven, but it was a nice thing to happen

and they took out the Them’s bully/rival gang, who was led by the third baby from the baby swap, and who won awards for his tropical fish. at least that’s what i remember. which meant the parallel about heaven/hell being rival gangs was lost here. but the parallel between the horsemen and the them was stronger than ever and i loved that.

look, i mean, 10 out of 10, EASY.

favourite thing? yes. yes, absolutely.

--

shoutout to the one time i wrote a Good Omens/Destiel crossover fic The Angel Cake Challenge

IT’S 04:02am THIS TOOK ME 12 HOURS

04:40am AND FORTY MINUTES TO EDIT

congrats if you made it to the end of this!!! thank you for reading <3 AND GO WATCH THE SHOW IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY

[thecollinhartman-blog]

Collin’s Coronavirus Thoughts

Corona Diaries

 I know what you are thinking. It is Day 4 of the Quarantine and Social Distancing and Collin has gone so crazy without all the busy-ness of life that he is writing a blog post. And you would be absolutely correct. Like every other millennial twenty-something, I have a lot of really great ideas that haven’t quite come to fruition. By now I thought I would be operating a volleyball facility, or traveling the US in a VW van driving for Uber, or pursuing a PhD program in England while playing volleyball, or coaching a small college team in Southern California.

All this to say I’m a big-time dreamer and a mostly incredibly poor “executer”. I often mistake my busy-ness for full-ness. I have seven unread books on my night stand, I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks, I never got around to painting the trim in the bathroom my dad and I remodeled, my phone hasn’t been at full charge since November, and there has been an overflow of recycling sitting outside my house from the garbage disposal and mattress I got for Christmas… and now it’s March. Welcome to it, friends.

 Let’s start here: I stopped by my parents’ house this week to print something – which I often do because I have a lot of printing needs but haven’t ever purchased a printer. It’s nice because I can print some papers I need AND I can always count on cool ranch Doritos and a Mango Orange Crystal Lite…. that I’ll likely take one sip of, leave on the counter, and finish when I’m there 4 days later.

 Anyway, here I am printing in my dad’s office and running late for a meeting  (all because I napped for too long). I rush out the door of the house, accidentally leaving one document on the printer, pens and paper everywhere, and a cupboard desk drawer open. A few minutes later, my dad sends me a picture of his office, which was without a doubt entirely put together five minutes prior to me being there. The tone of his text is sarcastic but loving but semi-annoyed which I can handle. I spend six seconds feeling bad about my reckless and disorganized self until Hillsong’s Highlands comes on the radio and I turn it up. I don’t spend time reflecting on things that would make me sad, I’m a 7.

 In the midst of my frantic printing and meeting prep, my dad told me he was going to call me “F-5”as my new nickname. By the look on my face, he could tell I was confused as to why. He begins to tell me that tornados are classified in F-0 through F-5 categories, with an F-5 tornado being the wildest in nature. My quick google search defines an F-5 tornado as the most “violent damage, homes lifted off foundation and carried considerable distances, autos thrown as far as 100 meters.” I think what my dad was trying to say is that my general way of life is to rampage my way through different spaces, groups, situations… often times in an assertive, proactive, somewhat wild, chaotic way and then just… leave (I think this how I drive too). Stop go stop go stop go. I go from this thing right on to the next without pause. I show up, jump out of my car, race to wherever I’m supposed to go, be (mostly) present there until BOOM, it’s a Monday evening and I’m in the Eagle gym, shutting off all the lights, gathering volleyballs, turning on the alarm, leaving for Young Life – all in an attempt to get there three minutes before it starts so I can prep items for the game I’m leading ALLLLL before being interrupted in the parking lot by a mom of a U11 kid who is reminding me (probably for the 3rd time) about the t-shirt they ordered and are waiting on. Following? Me neither.

 In short – my life actually is like an F-5 tornado. I run run run from one thing to the next, filling my world to the brim with as much as I possibly can all until I arrive back at my house at 10:30 pm, gas light on, eat whatever I can find in the fridge before my head hits the pillow 4 minutes later, only to set my alarm and do it again.

 I’ve been living my life like this for a really long time until…. well until Sunday when we got the news that school is cancelled, which means volleyball activities are all cancelled too, and Young Life gatherings paused and suddenly my wild Monday is WIDE OPEN.

 This blog post / journal / diary is my attempt to articulate from my squirrel brain some things I’ve learned about myself in the last 48 hours since this craziness called coronavirus officially stopped my (and probably your) collective world right in their F-5 tornado tracks.

 First, let me tell you about my day today paint a picture of how my world feels just a bit (LITERALLY ENTIRELY) different…..

 1)    I didn’t set an alarm and I woke up at 8:30 am.

2)    Shortly after, I went on a quick walk to the nearest coffee shop and ordered a Misto: I am on my journey to black coffee and I just graduated from a latte to this half coffee half milk concoction (with caramel) and I feel accomplished.

3)    I stopped by my neighbor friend’s house to say hello.

4)    I got home, cleaned a couple things around the house, washed a couple plates in my sink, and went on a bike ride to downtown Boise where I enjoyed a takeout lunch from Whole Foods. I would like to tell you that I rode my bike home, but a friend happened to see me and my girlfriend (she is working remotely from Utah and visiting right now) saw us and somehow realized the journey completely uphill from downtown to my house on the bench might not be all that fun so we piled our bikes in her car and she took us home.

5)    I took a 20 minute snoozer.

6)    I got up and did some yard work outside, gathering pine needles from underneath my big backyard tree and finally broke down those big boxes that have been sitting outside my house for months and was able to fit them all inside my recycling can.

7)    It started to drizzle so I came inside, crawled under a big blanket and read the first couple chapters of Prodigal God by Timothy Keller.

8)    Kinslie and I then stopped by the store to pick up some things for dinner and I grilled some steaks and shared a giant salad and some grilled asparagus.

9)    After a few girl scout cookies (they stopped by yesterday), we watched the last half of Ellen’s Game of Games and picked a movie on Netflix.

10) Now I’m lying in my (perfectly made) bed (because I had the time to make it) writing all my thoughts down in a word document wondering if I’ll actually post this or if there is really anything of worth that I’m typing. I think there is but not sure yet.

 Well, friends of the interwebs, you might be wondering why you just read a detailed list of my day from start to finish. Here’s what I want you to know.

 1)    Upon arriving at the coffee shop, I had a cheerful silly conversation with the barista about what drink I should order as we laughed about me wanting to eventually enjoy drip coffee. We engaged in authentic dialogue for a few minutes and on the way out I thanked her for the drink recommendation.

2)    Before leaving for our bike ride, my tires were flat so we walked them to the gas station and filled up with six quarters before we went on our merry way. I empathized with the Chevron employee as we talked about coronavirus and how it might impact our lives. I wished him well and went on my way.

3)    While bikeriding downtown I noticed there are five…. FIVE… different types of massage or spa places between my house and Curtis, which is the next main stop light.

4)    At Whole Foods, I asked the clerk their favorite pasta salad as she walked over and told me all about the 2 for $6 deal. I noticed the different textures of the floor and the neatly stacked chairs and how the vegetables were perfectly arranged in their place.

5)    While doing yardwork, I stopped and looked at Kinslie as she was raking leaves into a pile. I went over and looked, I mean REALLY LOOKED into her eyes and noticed how the Irish green edges melt into a light sky-ish blue before meeting her pupil. I noticed the way she parted her wavy blonde hair and the way it fell just barely over the sweatshirt she was borrowing of mine.  I noticed how thankful I was I had someone to share this day with and even more thankful for her idea to do this yardwork that surely wouldn’t have been started for maybe forever.

6)    While reading, I noticed the way the soft sunshine pressed through my semi-open blinds onto my page and made the black ink pop off the page. I contemplated Keller’s words of Pharisees and tax collectors and a story of two sons on their journey of deeper understanding of God’s steadfast love and grace in the midst of their own struggles.

7)    While making dinner I couldn’t help but take just a little extra time to delicately cut each cucumber and carrot slice with care as I heard sounds of clattering branches from my cracked window as dusk began to settle in.

8)    And while writing this blog post, I can’t help but notice all the things I noticed in my own world for perhaps the first time.

 While I can’t be sure what life will look like in a few short days, weeks, or even months, and while I’m not positive what my income will be, and what daily routines or rituals will be impacted, or how our schools and communities will be changed – I can be sure of this: I hope in the midst of my crazy F-5 tornado life that surely will be back in busy routine before I know it – I hope for a couple things.

 I hope I can continue notice the little things. To notice the wildly interconnected, perfectly-timed, awe strikingly beautiful, crazy detailed, little details of this world like the way I noticed the lines on the fresh steaks as I pulled them off my garage sale grill.  

 I hope to breathe deep and see, I mean REALLY see the world around me, to engage in relationship in more authentic and honest ways, to stop for a moment wherever I am to truly connect with the people around me.

  I hope to take my time through a home cooked meal, and to not be so filled with anxiousness and fear of the future and unknown that I my eyes are blinded to see the way God is working in and through my (and our) world, possibly even through something like the freaking COVID-19.

 While I’m sure there will be more lessons to be learned in the next little while, I challenge you to take a couple moments to really press in and reflect upon the way this Zombie apocalyptic ish tirade is impacting your world. I truly hope in the midst of empty toilet paper shelves and hand sanitizer hoarders there is something beautiful in your world that you’ve noticed, too.

[hy3ma90sqz1h]

Hi, friend. Do me a solid? Trope Mashup: 48 + 73 Queliot, if you're so inspired.

sorry for getting back so late. (i still have 3 others to work on) 

48 + 73 = stranded due to weather inclement + fake dating… ooh!!! (this was a fun one!)

Eliot had promised something big, but like always, had trouble delivering fully on the actual promise. He’d done outlandish things before without plan, without reason; falling into something eagerly and only because he wanted to. Usually, these were contained in Ibiza, with Margo, who could actually control Eliot, however, minimally. She would recount later that Eliot was merely a wild creature unable to be contained. That if he had wings, he would never use his feet again; if he had a fountain of money, he would never work another day in his life (though, even without the fountain of money, Quentin swore he had never seen Eliot work a proper job).

“I’m going to take you on a ski trip,” Eliot declared to Quentin on a Monday. He’d just returned from class, overwhelmed with a new stack of books to read and take notes on; so for Eliot to pile an additional task unto him stressed Quentin to the core. His mind tumbled, billowing like an unrestrained curtain in a summer wind.

“Do you even know how to ski?” Quentin promptly asked Eliot, who simply shrugged and replied, “I can always learn there.”

Preferring a ski trip to note-taking, after all, Quentin agreed to the trip. He packed his number one winter essentials: big, warm sweaters and fuzzy socks. Then, through common sense and thinking, packed double, for Eliot. Eliot typically only wore what he wanted, not for the weather. This had been countably proved time and time again.

Eliot wanted to be conventional and take a car; though he spelled his luggage into the trunk. With the trunk packed, Eliot slid into the driver’s seat and beckoned to Quentin, who, with a heavy sigh, took the seat up front next to Eliot. A grin passed across Eliot’s face; it was devious and inviting. It would’ve been foolish for Quentin not to accept the idea of this trip.

The drive was long and Quentin spent most of the time with his forehead pressed against the car window, daydreaming slightly. From the window, he watched people on the sidewalk, on their phones, minds so involved in things he couldn’t even pretend to care about. Even still, he could feel the eyes of Eliot skim him once every few minutes; intrigued, worried, Quentin didn’t pay enough attention to make a proper hypothesis out of that.

“How’s Alice?” Eliot finally asked. Every time before, Eliot always seemed reluctant to mention Alice. She’d spent a generous amount of time hanging out with Quentin; helping him with studies, joining him for lunch, sitting with him in the dim corners of Margo and Eliot’s Physical Kids Cottage parties. Quentin looked away from the spots of snow that, in packs of loose clumps, littered the dead grass out the window and turned to Eliot.

Eliot’s eyes were on the road, his hands relaxed around the wheel. He drove smoothly, which surprised Quentin, for some odd reason.

“She’s good,” Quentin simply replied.

“Are you two a thing… or?” Eliot kept digging. “‘Cause it seems…”

“No,” Quentin cut him off. There wasn’t anything important else to add. She was a stone in his life; someone who helped keep him stable. Once, he had fallen hard for her, but there are some things that don’t work out and you have to accept that. At least, she told him when he asked her out once. Alice was lovely, but she preferred the fulfillment of Quentin as a friend; someone who would always be there for her, thick and thin; through gross tears and countless breakups. It, in turn, also happened that Alice confessed she rather thought Margo would make an attractive partner. For herself. And Quentin was fine with that and dropped the subject with her.

“Okay,” Eliot said. He dropped the topic of Alice quickly after that. Though, it piqued Quentin’s curiosity that that was all he brought up. They could’ve spoken about anything; talked endlessly as the blocky buildings morphed into beautiful, staggering mountains; as snow-capped huge rocks sitting in powdery white grass. The number of cars they saw decreased and Quentin turned up the heater in the car. He no longer let his forehead fall against the window; it had become an icy chill, something rather unfortunate.

The sun had begun to disappear, dipping behind the clouds and slinking away; merely a coin falling down, endlessly into a coin-slot. Stars began to twinkle and Quentin wondered why they were still on the road. Once or twice, they’d stopped at a gas station for bathroom breaks and cheap snacks, but there’d been no sign of life for some time.

“Are we lost?” Quentin asked. He’d pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands; they were becoming numb and Quentin desperately wanted to tuck himself into a warm bed, possibly beside a roaring fire.

“No, we’re nearly there. I hope,” Eliot said. “My fingers are fucking freezing.” A few more minutes passed as the road stretched on, the end of it vanishing in the empty darkness.

“Are you sure we’re not lost, El.” It came out more of a statement this time, not a question. A stressful declaration, in fact, and Eliot looked at him, with a frown. He slowed the car and pulled over to the side, parking.

He paused, mouth half open before finally admitting his mistake. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but I happened to check the weather back at the last gas station and it’s impossible to access right now. They got snowed in; we got snowed out,” Eliot told him. With wide eyes, Quentin gave Eliot an exasperated look, defeated almost. A warm breath-ghost left the lips of Eliot and clouded the air in front of him, shrouding him in a sort of mysterious mist.

“We’ve been driving. For TWO HOURS! And you didn’t tell me this?” Quentin almost shrieked. He was freezing everywhere; places that weren’t supposed to freeze! Eliot gave him an innocent, hopeful smile. Quentin took a deep breath, “Can we check if there’s a motel nearby?”

Though, it turned out that Wi-Fi didn’t reach them all the way out in the snowy, deserted lands of absolutely fucking nowhere. Quentin groaned and slipped down in his seat, trying to sink into the leather material of the seats. Eliot complained about not having any gloves, which prompted Quentin to pull out a pair, which prompted Eliot to say, “Those are horribly ugly. I am not putting those on my hands.” Instead of putting the gloves away, Quentin forced them onto Eliot’s hands, using a little restraining magic.

“Let’s drive around some, see if we can find someone trust worthy enough to accept us in,” Quentin said. “But this time I’m driving since you can not seem to be trusted with that.” He was met with pouty lips, but nonetheless, swapped the driver’s seat from Eliot.

It was quite dark outside; the stars were extremely bright in the expanse of the sky, but the abundance of mountaintops concealed many of them from view. The moon stood high, lighting a small path and, with the assistance of the car’s headlights, Quentin searched the sides of the roads for houses of different variants. Perhaps someone would be nice enough to let them spend the night; get away from the chill that wrapped its thick arms around the men.

Finally, as if by the grace of some good lady God, Eliot pointed out a porch light in all the darkness. A sigh of relief washed through the car; an unknown reassurance of hope. Quentin pulled up to the curb and took in a deep breath; what if they accidentally awoke the people in the house? What if they were shunned away? What if, what if, what if. There was never an end to his constant questioning.

“What’s our story?” Eliot asked. He looked toward Quentin as if that were an entirely normal question to ask. Especially in a situation such as this. Stranded, cold, stress level set to the maximum.

“What is our what?”

“Our story. Why are we stranded? Who are we? What are we even doing out here?” Eliot explained to him. Yes, normal questions to think, absolutely!

“Well, we’re stranded because you didn’t tell me about the snowed-in ski resort. We are two students, and we’re out here because you wanted to take me skiing! For some reason!” He said the last part with a sour distaste and Eliot flinched slightly. Quentin looked toward him sheepishly and apologized. “Fine. Whatever you want, let’s just go knock on the door.”

They trudged up the front steps; the lawn was vacant and piles of snow sat ignored, vigilant and mighty in the night. The porch light flickered ominously; a bug buzzed, wings flapping wildly, trapped underneath the bulb. It would soon die from the heat, Quentin took note. He stood a little closer to Eliot, fearful at the emptiness the house presented.

Quentin, when they got to the door, raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the wood. It was a piercing break in the silence that Quentin or Eliot didn’t even take notice of shortly before. They stood together, bodies close in the cold and also in some fright, for a few seconds, perhaps a minute, until the door began to creak open. A little old lady stood there donned in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers; a thick pair of glasses sat on the tip of her nose, anxious to fall off. Eliot smiled at her, widely, with a full set of teeth. Quentin, though, stood back a little, weary.

“Hello, dears,” she said with a broken voice, the one that attacks everyone breaching their late seventies. “It’s pretty late, what are you two boys doing out knocking on strangers doors. You’re gonna give someone a heart attack like that.” Quentin bit his lip, embarrassed now at his behavior.

“Oh! It’s late? We apologize, ma’am, it’s just, we’re stranded out here in the cold,” Eliot began, putting on a full show. “My boyfriend and I were simply wondering if you had a spare room for the night. I mean, I don’t want him to freeze to death! He’s too cute to lose to the hands of the frozen terrain.”

Quentin almost did a double take. It dawned on him that he did allow Eliot to take the reigns of the situation, but he didn’t think Eliot would make them a couple; that was the only situation his mind didn’t manage to conjure for a quote on quote “story.” However, he was cold, and if this worked, he’d be thanking Eliot; so he went along with it.

“Yes, very cold,” Quentin stuttered out.

“Oh, you poor boys!” the lady cried. “Come right on in, I can get a fire started if you would both like.” She ushered them in with her wrinkled hands, delicate and generous. Quentin nodded greedily towards her.

The lady led them to a towering fireplace; logs already chucked into the pit. Eliot and Quentin took a seat as the lady began to crinkle up newspapers, shoving them between the cracks of the logs. She lit a match and touched it to one of the newspapers. The flames licked the roof of the fireplace, pouring out a comforting orange light. The two men were flooded with warmth. Eliot took this opportunity to wrap one arm around Quentin’s shoulder, drawing him near, close to his chest. Quentin really didn’t mind. Next to Eliot, Quentin felt small and cared for; a puppy drawing itself close to the body of its owner.

A few minutes passed in silence with a subtleness that hung over the room, stealing the unnoticed pleasure from the fireplace, and they began to warm up, fingers able to stretch themselves out, though still dry and mildly cracking. The lady returned with mugs of cocoa and two thick, wool blankets. They looked as though they had been knitted from scratch, by her for someone else.

“My son comes by weekly to bring new logs for my fireplace. He’s so generous to me. He’s like you two,” she said with a gentle smile. “Come this way, you can sleep in his old bedroom for the night.” She led them up a flight of stairs, rickety and falling apart from overuse to a room at the end of the dimly lit hallway.

Inside the bedroom, a whole childhood came to life; posters covered the walls, sports decorum littered the bookshelves alongside great classics, and a giant stuffed bear, propped against one wall, head leaning a little to the right. And a singular bed with blue and white patterned covers.

“I’ll leave you two alone now,” the lady said and disappeared.

Eliot stretched his arms high and walked over to the bed, already starting to tuck himself in. The pace that all of this was happening at alarmed Quentin. Stranded, cold, stress level set to the maximum and now: shelter, boyfriends?, sharing a bed. This had started out so freely; Quentin setting aside his homework to do something mindless with one of his friends. Jesus, time went by so fast.

“Eliot, how are you acting like any of this is normal?” Quentin began to panic. He stood frozen to the spot.

“Well, we’re warm now, aren’t we? A nice woman let us stay in her gay son’s childhood bed. This is every Friday night for me,” Eliot shrugged. He pulled the covers over his body and sighed, ushering Quentin to join him. “Does it matter?”

“I mean… yes!” Quentin said. “It has to matter. Why’d you want to bring me on a ski trip anyways? You don’t even know how to ski! And you go and tell the old lady we’re dating. Eliot… please.”

Eliot sat up now. His mouth twitched; his cheeks were rosy from the cold and the fire. In the dimness of the room, Quentin could see the glow that spread across Eliot’s face. A secret passage hidden in his sunken cheeks, worn down, yet still dazzling… still glowing.

“Come join me,” Eliot said. Quentin did. He slowly crossed the room; it suddenly seemed frozen in time; like this moment was encapsulated in suspension, that nothing else got to exist during its occurrence; just the mere action of Quentin pacing across a room, heading toward Eliot who beckoned him from some random dude’s old bed.

“I never get to see you anymore,” Eliot began. “You’re always buried in studies. Hiding in the bookshelves of the library with Alice or something. Even at my parties, you’re just barely present. I miss you.” He looked down at his lap. Quentin’s shoulder touched Eliot’s; it felt so intimate; more intimate than any kiss one could receive.

This silenced Quentin; stunned him quite so. That one could miss him. He’d never thought of himself as someone to miss, only someone that others preferred not to be reminded of. This was such a high pedestal for him to place himself on. And in some sudden, unexpected act of bravery, he reached over and took Eliot’s hand, holding it tenderly. Eliot looked up at him, softly and shyly; something, Quentin had to admit, he’d never witnessed before.

“You missed me? And so we had to pretend to be dating?” Quentin whispered jokingly. “We could’ve been anyone.”

“Yes,” Eliot replied. “We could’ve been anyone.” He stopped there, choking on his voice as if saying another word would mute him forever. In some universe, he would’ve risked that, but in this universe, he wanted to keep his voice; keep his voice so he could praise Quentin head to toe with it, his… voice.

“I don’t mind that,” Quentin said. “Being boyfriends. I’ve only had one before, years ago so I might be a little rusty.” Eliot turned his head with a snap.

“Wait? All this time you could’ve told me you’ve dated a man before and instead you kept silent?” Eliot gasped. He was still holding Quentin’s hand; it felt right; natural and like home; he didn’t want to ever let Quentin go. They could be having a terrible argument, life-threatening, and Eliot still wouldn’t want to let Quentin’s hand go. He couldn’t.

“I guess there are some things that people keep from each other,” Quentin said referring to the weather disaster situation. “But also, it’s not even a big thing. I like who I like and that’s it. Julia once told me that I fall in love with anyone who pays attention to me for more than a minute. I think she might be right.”

“I hope she’s wrong,” Eliot said. “I’d rather you only fall in love with me.”

“Don’t worry, El, I’ve been in love with you since you said my name for the first time,” Quentin replied. This was the only moment that had to matter. There were a million things that could matter then: a flight landing safely, a nearly extinct species being saved, someone refusing to give up on life quite yet. But to Quentin and Eliot, who’d lived their lives quite miraculously thus far, this was the moment that mattered to them right now. This was the start to an even more miraculous future.

READ HERE ON AO3

[logince]

On the move.

Hey there! Wanna read a fanfiction about my OC Rismer and Skyrim’s very own Farengar Secret-Fire living together in a modern AU? Really? What an oddly specific thing to want to read! But! You’ve come to the right place! (Less than 2k words)

Water splashed up against his calves as he dodged through alley after alley. He had come to learn that passerby’s don’t give a second thought about people until they consider them a problem. Until they’ve been caught “loitering” for the tenth time.

Rismer snorted at the thought, practically skidding around a corner, gripping the rough brick walls to help him turn. He felt the skin on his hands tear, but he ignored it. Loitering. As if his days consisted of fun little strolls. Even when he wasn’t causing trouble, people found a way to say he was. He stumbled over uneven pavement, but quickly caught his footing.

If he weren’t so recognizable, he wouldn’t have to be so good at running, but he always found it unreasonable to cover every single scar. Especially since the most recognizable ones covered the expanse of his face. But more importantly, to him they were badges of pride–reminders that he’s survived–and purposefully hiding them would feel wrong, no matter the reason.

However, even with all the practice he’s had, he didn’t need to turn around to know that the footfalls behind him were quickly catching up. He knew that, despite his best efforts, he can’t run forever. Just the thought of being caught and confined sent chills down his spine. Sure, he was never the best at multitasking, but he was sure he couldn’t be that bad. So he exerted some energy to look up from watching the ground and scan over the alleys he dashed through, looking for a suitable hiding place. This caused him to lose focus, and he ended up making a wrong turn, and lead him to a dead end.

“Of course,” his thoughts were bitter as he frantically scanned his surroundings. “That’s the last time I try multitasking.” He knew from prior experience that hiding at and below ground level isn’t effective, so he factors that into his planning. His final decision resulted in him jumping to and scrambling up the nearest fire escape, his hands slipping on the wet rungs, before he rolled onto a landing, and out of sight.

He cursed, silently, and visualized a face from long ago, belonging to the only person who had ever cared for him. It brought him a sudden sense of calm. He waited and listened to the yelling and sounds of feet, using the time to catch his breath. He knew those chasing him wouldn’t search for him much longer. After all, he was only charged for loitering–as far as they knew.

And there, soaking wet on the cold metal of a fire escape, is where Rismer met his best friend.

#

Farengar said he had been studying when he heard a loud metal sound, and had jumped to his feet, fists clenched. He studied the scene from the window–not noting anything of significance–before his eyes were drawn to the movement of a figure on his neighbor’s landing. He opened his window, and yelled at him to keep it down. Whenever the story was brought up, Rismer would point out that this is hardly a normal thing to do. Farengar would say the same of him. He had invited Rismer in, listened, and told him he could stay on the couch. Rismer wasn’t one to say no to shelter, so he cautiously agreed, sleeping fitfully.

After finding no purchase in sleep, Rismer conceded to tracing nonexistent patterns in the carpet and listening to Farengar talk under his breath. And, after a forecast predicting a week of thunderstorms, Farengar suggested he stay a little longer.

Farengar lived alone, and had eccentricities unfamiliar to Rismer. He would become annoyed with little warning, only sleep if his body forced it, mumble to himself, and rarely met your eyes. He lived his life on a schedule, and didn’t care for interruptions.

“Hey, uh, Farengar?” Rismer sat upside-down on the couch, hands behind his head, halfway through his third week here.

“What is it?” Farengar snapped. He was working, and Rismer knew he was, but he wanted to say his thought immediately, so he ignored Farengar’s cold tone.

“I–” he hesitated, before continuing, “I like it here. You’re different from most people I’ve come across.” He brought one of his hands around to his chin, absentmindedly rubbing the scar there.

“Though you might not seem it, you’re pretty nice to be around.” He finished, and when he looked toward Farengar, Farengar was staring at Rismer’s face.

“How did you get those?” Farengar was always very blunt, and didn’t seem to notice Rismer tense up, moving to sit up.

“I wasn’t careful…” Rismer said, hoping to end the conversation there. Farengar didn’t get the hint, and Rismer should’ve expected it, considering his curious nature.

“What do you mean? Did you fall? Were you attacked?” Farengar pushed, spinning to face Rismer more, avoiding eye contact in favor of visually tracing Rismer’s scars.

“Drop it, Farengar.” Rismer said more urgently, pushing himself into the corner of the couch.

“But why?” Farengar rose his voice as he stood, taking a step towards the other, on the couch. At the sudden motion, Rismer shot up, and stomped towards the door.

“Listen, I’m not one of your subjects to be examined.” He could feel his body shaking. “And I’m not a puzzle for you to figure out.”

He closed the door behind him, and felt Farengar’s cold eyes follow him the entire way out. He felt foolish, having gotten worked up enough to just leave like that, but he set his resolve. It was better this way, he reasoned, stepping out into the street.

And yet, a week later he was awoken by a shaking sensation. The previous hours he knew he had fallen asleep on a pile of old cardboard outside an alleyway, so at least the place he woke in was familiar. What was out place was Farengar crouched in front of him, face seemingly blank, and it brought his awareness back. When he sat up, Farengar pulled a granola bar out of his bag for him, and started up a lecture about hygiene. Rismer just couldn’t find it in himself to turn a cold shoulder to the other.

This wasn’t the first time Rismer had run, and it wouldn’t be the last. However, this was the first time in a very long time that Rismer could recall someone welcoming him back.

#

It wasn’t the last time they argued, either. Rismer had always prided himself on his charismatic personality and his ability to keep his cool. It just always felt harder to keep his cool when Farengar was upset.

If asked, Farengar would say that he’s gotten much better about controlling his anger from when he was a child. Rismer argues that he is positive that Farengar’s current temperament is still considered the rock bottom of anger management.

Their first big fight is five months after their first meeting, and only a week after Farengar offers for Rismer to officially move in as a full-time roommate. He cited the fact that Rismer was already practically living with him, and the fact that having steady shelter should help the other be able to get a more substantial job than short-term manual labor offers.

Rismer accepted the kind offer and, without being asked, decided to tidy things up around the apartment until he could get a job. He put all the loose papers in a pile on Farengar’s desk, neat and orderly. He collected all the empty cups and garbage from the residence to clean later, revealing parts of the wall he was sure hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Finally, he took all the books and put them into the sparse bookshelf, making it look plentiful.

The more he cleaned, however, the more jittery he got. The more space he opened up, the more the walls seemed to close in around him. He flicked on a light, sure it was simply a perceptual thing. When the light seemed to highlight the ceiling, which was moving ever downward without ever getting any closer, Rismer fled to the windows. He opened the window near the fire escape to try to open the space up more. Instead, the windows seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the exits closing.

When Farengar got home that evening, he stood in the doorway, shocked. Every light was on, every window was open, all the books he had been citing were gone from his desk, his rough drafts were all piled together out of order… and Rismer was gone. He was infuriated, and felt his blood chill. It was less than 48 hours when Farengar opened the door to see Rismer, his head hanging to the side, hair in his face. He opened his mouth immediately, only for Farengar to turn on heel and walk back into his apartment.

“What?” Farengar said, crouching over his standing desk. Rismer followed him in, used to his abruptness. He frowned at cups littering the table, and the trash surrounding Farengar’s desk in a halo.

“I’m sorry for just disappearing like that,” Rismer murmured, and gave the walls a wary look.

“But I see you continued life on without me, and un-did the cleaning up I did.” That comment was the straw that caused Farengar’s quiet fury to break.

“Your “cleaning up” put me–!” Farengar fumbled for the words, slamming his hands into the tabletop. “Months! Months behind!”

“I don’t understand,” Rismer responded, carefully.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” Farengar shook his head before yelling, “you’ve ruined the outline for my paper’s progress!”

Rismer knew he should breathe, walk away, apologize, something, but he felt his traitorous brow furrow into a glare.

“You’re mad at me for cleaning?” He accused. “Everything wrong in and with the world and you’re mad at me for cleaning?” Farengar turned towards him, and the look in his eyes made Rismer realize that this was confrontation–he was confronting someone–

“Yes! You–you ruined my careful organization! You took all my thesis papers and just!” Farengar laughed, but it wasn’t happy. “Threw them together, out of order, for me to fix! You even threw some of them away! And now, I’m months behind schedule! Not that it seems to matter to you!”

Rismer rolled his eyes, and stepped to the side, feeling the jittery energy from before come back, tenfold. “We’re really arguing about this?” His voice was getting louder, and he couldn’t make it stop. “We’re arguing about something I did to try to help you? To make your life easier? Since all you do is make life harder for yourself?” He yelled.

Farengar threw his hands up and took a step towards Rismer. “You may have tried to help, but you did more harm than you did good. If we’re going to live together, we have to have boundaries!”

Rismer took a step back, drawing his shoulders up to his ears, curling into himself. “Well, I can’t live with you if you’re going to freak out like this every time I make a dumb mistake!”

“This is more than just a simple mistake–!”

“God, living with you is like living in a god damn cage!” Rismer screamed.

“You’re afraid!” Farengar stepped into Rismer’s space, shaking with emotion. “You’re so afraid, you can’t even see the only thing caging you is yourself!”

Rismer tried to take a step back, but hit the bookshelf behind him instead. He felt cornered. He felt hot. He couldn’t breathe. He slowly started to shake his head, and he ultimately resorted to doing what he knew best.

He ran. 

[early-sxnsets]

First Days

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44630452

Chapter 2/12 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2451

Chapter Summary: Simon makes a friend, and maybe an enemy at the same time.

First days send me back to being a teen.

The anxious new faces and tired, sagging ones of upperclassmen trying to get around them. The pushing, the shoving. The new class schedules, and the confused kids who don't even know who they are, much less what they're doing.

Thankfully, now, I get to watch it from afar. Although I feel like I'm locked up in a tower.

This is the shittiest fairy tale I could imagine.

Brushing my hands over the stack of papers laid out on my desk, I let the day's weight ease onto me. I only have five appointments today, but that doesn't mean I won't get bombarded by students trying to change their classes last minute. I know how it is, I shadowed a public school counselor for a year.

The pile of work out in front of me is a bit dense, but easy. New students, all second or third year transfers. And… lunch is in four hours. That's, at least, something to look forward to.

Well, except for being thrown further into that teenaged “Who do I sit with” bullshit. I haven't left my room much in the past week, and I highly doubt Mr. Stick In The Arse will let me sit beside him (though, I wouldn't be shocked to find that he sits alone). That, of course, leaves me with no other option that the fact that I'll be standing alone, waiting to find the furthest spot from everyone else.

Brilliant.

I get halfway through my morning before the Dean stops in, standing at my doorway as I'm rearranging a student's schedule. He knocks once, sending me jumping before I straighten up. “Oh, hello. Good morning sir--David.”

His nose turns up unimpressively. “You'll be introduced before lunch so that the faculty knows you beyond a welcome email.”

Well, there's no yes or no to that. Guess it's an order. “Okay. I'll be there.”

After nodding briefly and flicking his wrist watch out for a look, he turns on his heel and leaves me without another word.

I know I've never had a father, but he's the closest thing to a disappointed, high standards parent I think I've ever gotten, and it's only been a week.

Checking the time doesn't prove to be much of a spirit lifter. 10:48. Lovely.

I stare out the window, pen clicking impulsively in my hand as I follow a few leaves fluttering across a sidewalk. Empty. It's all empty. Locked away classrooms and borderline solitary confinement for me.

I introduced myself to the other counselor. She's in her late 60s and seems very cold. I doubt I'll talk to her much except for good mornings. That, of course, leaves me knowing three people so far. The Dean, Professor Pitch, and her.

I might as well count the pigeons I fed last night as friends too. They've paid more attention to me than anyone else around here.

Exhale. Slow, steady exhale, blowing out through my mouth.

It feels like a century before lunch finally hits. It takes me a bit of navigating, but I finally find the building after roaming the grounds for a good 10 minutes. Once inside, I steer myself towards the lunch line, avoiding the watchful eyes of students and faculty alike, starting to fill up the rooms.

I'm guilty of stuffing as much food as possible onto my tray, swiping my ID, and scuffling back to the staff dining room. It's empty, all but for the Dean, who's pacing towards the back. Such an odd man. “David?” I manage out, weight shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His head perks up, fingers resting upon his chin. “Ah yes, Mr. Snow. Thank you for being early. Come, sit.”

Following orders is easy to do. Take a seat and stare at my hands as others filter through. I worry that I'm sat in someone else's “spot” as a short, unamused woman takes a seat a few chairs around away from me. She gives me a familiar once over, looking through the top of her glasses before she shoves down a mouthful of salad.

A hand clasps over my shoulder, snapping my from my trance and jolting me standing. It feels as though the entire room is staring (they probably are). Scurrying quickly, I find myself standing feet away from the Dean, nervously picking at the pills of my jumper. Everyone falls silent at the wave of his hand--it's like magic.

“I'd like to take this opportunity, as we're all already gathered, to allow our new guidance counselor, Mr. Snow, to introduce himself.” Introduce myself?

“Uh, yes. Yeah. Thank you.” I stumble over my words, eyes scanning the crowd as I pull at my sleeve. I'm absolutely shit at public speaking, on top of barely being able to form a solid sentence in the first place. Brilliant. “I--uh--hi. Hello. I'm Simon. 26, just moved from London. I-I was a social worker for kids in the system, helping them get proper care and whatnot. I took this job to save up a bit, though. Social work isn't really lucrative, and I have bills.” I try laughing, but it comes out more as a nervous chuckle. “Besides that, I-I'm always up for a chat. I quite like football, I suppose. So yeah. That's… that's pretty much it.”

My hands rest on my thighs, back hunching in the slightest as the Dean looks over, nodding and finally letting me go back to eat without all the eyes in the room on me. Except, when I do sit, the woman with cat-eye glasses is staring at me again.

Slowly, I open my mouth, trying to formulate a response. She cuts in before I can.

“You don't have to move, you're fine here.” Oh well, that's lovely information.

“Thanks,” I exhale, squinting at her ID. “Penelope, is it?”

“Call me Penny,” she shrugs off, picking up her napkin and wiping her face. The rings on the fingers shine slightly in the dull light, catching my eye as I count them off.

“Are you engaged?” I ask rather bluntly, eyes following her right hand. There's a rather nice ring on her finger--I can see it closer now, as she extends her hand and offers a look.

“Mmhm,” she begins. “He lives in America, though. He was studying abroad in uni. He flies out every summer to see me. This year, I flew out to surprise him in more than one way.” She admires the glint, and I can't help but study her. She's interesting. Smart. Large personality, larger hair.

“What's his name?”

“Micah.” Her hand settles back on the table. “Anyway. Enough about me. Who the hell are you, really?”

I hold back a careless snort, poking at my food. “I'm… nobody important, really.”

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it. Where are you from? Your accent doesn't sound like London.”

Good question. “Here and there,” I shrug. It isn't exactly a lie. “I settled for secondary in London, though, and that's where I stayed through uni.”

She side eyes me, taking a few bites as I shovel in my own food. I'd be more embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that my back is to most of the room. Still, she's looking at me the same way Agatha would at fancy dinners--like I have no table manners (because I barely do).

She lets me finish before she starts up conversation again. Given it's me, it doesn't take long for that to happen. “So, who'd they put you up with?”

“As in, my roommate?”

She nods, peering around.

“Well, uh… Mr. Pitch. I don't really know how to say his first name, but--”

“Basilton?!” She whispers hushly, eyes raising before she laughs. “Oh you poor bastard, they put you with Mr. Prick.”

“Mr. Prick…?”

She waves a hand dismissively, sipping her coffee as she holds back a grin. “That's what the students call him. Rightfully so, I'd say. He's quite the wound up loon, if you ask me.”

I can't help myself from looking around, trying to find him to get a good look. I catch him, eventually, sitting in the near back, alone at a table with earbuds in and a book in hand. He's got the signature scowl on his face. “What's… he do? What's the deal with him?”

She's rolling her eyes when I look back. “Tenured in. Did they not tell you what he does?” I shake my head. “Brilliant. Well, he's head of the English and Literature department--I teach 10th and 11th year Lit and Creative Writing--and everyone who has him says he's an absolute nightmare. It's a shock that anyone takes his Queer Lit course.”

“Queer Lit?”

She nods dramatically. “See, fun as all hell course. Wilde, Shakespeare, Nin! I'd campaigned to teach it, but he got first call on it, being the teacher for the Gender Sexuality Alliance.”

I stop, cogs turning as I stare down at the grease streaking my plate. It processes slowly, then all at once. “Is he… you know…”

She laughs again--this time, it's a big, snorty laugh. Once she calms down, she gives a final chuckle. “Are you asking if Mr. Pitch is gay?”

I give her a shrug, blinking back to reality. “I-I mean, there's nothing wrong with it! Nothing at all, I'm just… I didn't know, and--”

Her hand settles over mine. “Don't get your knickers twisted. He is. Just thought it was evident, given literally everything about him.”

I glance back again, and I swear on my year's salary that he was looking at me. “I don't like to assume,” I add back into the conversation.

“There's a difference between assumption and context clues, dear.” The bell rings, cutting her short as she sighs. “Well, fuck. I've got a group of clueless 15 year olds to yell at. I'll save you a spot at dinner.”

And with that, I think I've made my first friend (well, besides the pigeons).

It's a pain to drag through the rest of the day. Even though the classes usually wrap in the mid afternoon, my office hours are locked into staying until half an hour before dinner. Basis of this? Fuck everything, and I need to buy snacks to hide in my desk.

I spend roughly half of it staring out the window or playing solitaire on my computer, and the other half was spent reworking schedules to the stuck up kids whimsy. I wonder if part of my job description is “doormat”, and I just hadn't read it clearly enough.

When I'm finally able to lock up and go to eat, I'm feeling half starved and completely exhausted. Thank God Penny seems to like talking, because she spends the entirety of our meal wholeheartedly ranting about how much young boys are the absolute worst group to teach.

“I should've taken the job at the all girls prep,” she huffs, practically throwing down her soup spoon. “Imagine how much happier I would have been not having to ask a boy to not replace ‘rump’ with ‘asscheeks’.”

“Why didn't you take the job?”

“Same reason as everyone else--money.”

I nod solemnly, taking another mouthful of baked chicken.

She keeps going. Long enough for me to get the occasional word in, but not so little that I have to talk often. By the time everyone's starting to file out, she's finally wrapping up her story about her least favorite student so far.

Thankfully, there aren't many students out and about once we're done. They're all scuffling off to the library or any other hang out on campus.

Penny and I part ways by the dorms. As per usual, Mr. Pitch has me locked out (or is it Basilton? Is what what people actually call him?) When I step in after scraping my keys around to find the right one and actually get in, I find him sitting right by the door on the sofa, doing work. That bastard.

He looks up, lips curving distastefully as I carefully close the door behind me. And thus, I'd assume, begins our nightly routine of avoidance. I lock myself in my room, and only step out for maybe a glass of water.

Tonight, though, I suppose I have something to attempt a conversation. “So…” I begin, fiddling with my glass as I stand in the kitchen. The light's off, but the soft yellow of the living room lamp washes over us, making the room feel all toned down. “You teach English, yeah?”

He doesn't turn, still seeming to stare ahead. “Yes, Snow. Astounding conclusion.”

“I… I'd meant that Penelope told me--”

“So you're all pals with Bunce then. Good. She's been sat alone for some time now.”

It hurts a bit, coming from him. As if he's assuming we're both too much of outcasts to be friends with anyone but each other. I worry that, maybe, he's right.

I inhale slowly before continuing. “She said you teach Queer Lit, and that you run the GSA. That's…” I think for a second--a long pause--trying to find the right word.

It's a second too long in his eyes, because he whips around quickly and stares me down. “Don't bother finishing that sentence, Snow. I don't need to hear semi coherent blubbering about how brave I am. Yes, I'm gay. So kindly fuck off.”

I freeze momentarily, glass squeezed tighter in my hand as I stand bolt-still. He stares back, sighing exaggeratedly after a minute before going back to his work.

Taking the glass back, I try not to slam my bedroom door.

Does he have to be an absolute dick about everything? Jesus Christ, this is why they call him Mr. Fucking Prick. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe I'm not actually mad, and he's just ridiculously mean.

I scratch my arm absentmindedly, settling down my glass before falling face first onto my bed. My mind runs over things to do, body working up into a red flashing anger. Who's it for? I don't even know.

It's just… unfair.

Everything's unfair. I thought it'd be livable--I thought I could be optimistic.

I push myself up, then kick down onto my mattress, hitting my fists against my pillows.

Rat bloody bastard wants to be a little dick and yell at me. Fine. Fine. I'll just avoid the shit out of him. Let him be fucking alone, for all I care. He seems to do that to himself anyway.

I manage to sit myself up, chest struggling to heave a full breath in and a full breath out. In the corner of my eye, I see myself in the mirror. Hunched, reddened. Sad. I'm so fucking sad.

Fucking hell. What am I doing?

[who-gave-atlas-a-pencil]

Drift and Call it Dreaming

Read on AO3 for notes.

Summary: “Was that a yawn? Are you tired?”

“It’s going on four in the bloody morning. Of course I’m tired.”

(A missing scene from the night an angel and a demon decide to raise the Antichrist.)

---

The night they decide they’re going to raise the Antichrist together, they talk for hours. There’s the conversations before the decision is reached, obviously – something about bananas and fish stew, though the details are too hazy for Aziraphale to remember entirely even after they’ve sobered up – but there’s the discussions afterward too. There’s a considerable amount of logisitics involved in collaborating with one’s archnemesis to prevent the apocalypse, and by 3.17 in the morning, it’s all starting to turn a bit fuzzy. Aziraphale’s head hurts, the low drumming in his temples a sure sign that it is time for him to take a break and read for a moment. Heidi, perhaps. It’s a simple tale and a quick one, but he’s always found it charming.

Across the room, Crowley’s made himself comfortable. He has a knack for that, Aziraphale thinks, a way of making every space his own. It reminds the angel of chameleons he’d seen once on a mission in Brazil, even if he’s reasonably certain that Crowley is categorically incapable of blending in with the scenery. He’s got a degree of panache to him that makes such a thing impossible, a magnetic field of sorts that draws people in, or at least draws in soft angels who should know better than to be so foolishly, recklessly in-

He realises a moment too late that Crowley’s asked him something, that he’s been waiting for an answer while Aziraphale’s been staring like an adoring puppy. His cheeks burn as he pulls his eyes away to settle on a world atlas from the 1940s which sits somewhere behind Crowley’s head and silently thanks the Almighty for the fact that he keeps his bookshop so dimly lit. Then he clears his throat and smiles, blinking. “Sorry, what?”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “I said, don’t you think it’s about time to call it a night on this Antichrist business? Well. More calling it a morning at this point – why exactly don’t you have any clocks in this entire bookshop?”

“I have one,” Aziraphale protests. “It’s at the front of the store. I don’t need any others, that’s the function of a watch. And in any event, I don’t have to give punctuality a terrible amount of thought usually. I rarely have meetings with anyone other than you, unless someone’s made an appointment.”

“Explains your shop hours. I figured you’d just made them like that to keep anyone from actually being able to come in and buy anything.” Crowley says it with a wry grin, but Aziraphale’s cheeks flush in embarrassment at being discovered and the demon’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open with astonishment. “No.”

Aziraphale fumbles for an excuse. “I never know when head office is going to drop in without notice and require my attention. It’s not as if I can simply pop into the back room and leave the front desk unattended. If anybody requires assistance-”

“You made your hours like that on purpose?”

“Would you want to be around a group of humans when Gabriel drops in?”

“I don’t enjoy being on the same planet when Gabriel drops in.”

“The last time he was here, his idea of subtlety was dreadful. He tried to get me alone by asking me for- for pornography,” Aziraphale says helplessly, feeling his nose scrunch up in distaste. Then Crowley’s spine goes liquid and he’s half-collapsed into the couch with how hard he’s laughing, and try as he might, Aziraphale can’t make himself feel mortified about that.

He presses his lips together and looks away, riding out the symphony of Crowley’s laughter. He realises belatedly that he perhaps shouldn’t have provided the demon with more ammunition to commit sacrilege, but – well. Loath as he is to admit it, Crowley’s always had a point about how little attention their respective head offices tend to pay them as a general rule, and looking at him now, Aziraphale can’t feel too guilty.

It’s nearly three minutes before he completely finishes dying of laughter and straightens himself out again. Crowley dashes tears from the corners of his eyes and sighs, loud and heavy. “Oh, angel,” he says, and shakes his head.

“I’m glad you find this all so terribly amusing,” Aziraphale mutters, only a little crossly. “The entire interaction was completely horrifying.”

“Is there any interaction with Gabriel that isn’t?”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale casts his eyes heavenward and offers a brief apology on the demon’s behalf and redirects the conversation. “Weren’t you saying something important earlier, before all this distraction?”

Crowley waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, probably not. I don’t say important things. I rarely say important things. One of my rules.” His grin is sly and curves across his face with an enticing charm that isn’t entirely fair, and Aziraphale is just about to remark on it when he sees the demon shift slightly and cover his mouth with a hand.

Aziraphale frowns. “Was that a yawn? Are you tired?”

“It’s going on four in the bloody morning. Of course I’m tired.” Crowley tosses one obscenely long leg over the arm of the couch and sprawls across the length of it.

Aziraphale purses his lips and looks away. “I was under the impression that evil never sleeps,” he says, taking great care to keep his tone even.

“Yeah, that was before evil had to gallivant around the whole blessed Earth all through the 14th century,” Crowley retorts, unperturbed. “Anyone would fancy a nap after that.”

“Yes, but. Well. Put simply – Crowley, that was centuries ago. Surely you’re not still tired?”

Crowley shrugs. “Nah. Have gotten used to the sleeping bit, though. ‘S a nice way to pass the time.”

“Virtue is ever vigilant,” Aziraphale parrots without thinking, wincing when Crowley gives him the Look he saves for when he’s said something particularly reminiscent of a boy scout pamphlet. “Well, it is. And besides, why would I sleep? There’s all these books to be read and people can be so peculiar when it’s dark.” He steeples his fingers and leans forward eagerly. “Once, when I was walking around in the middle of winter, I was approached by a gentleman dressed in black who offered to show me something unique – ‘life-changing’ was the phrase he used, I believe. He was quite insistent, but you see, I’d just acquired a first edition Wilde that I’d been reading at a café, so I was in a bit of a rush, but it was still a delightful experience. He was such a lovely young man.”

“It sounds like he was a drug dealer and you’re lucky you didn’t get mugged,” Crowley says, rubbing a hand over his face.

“No,” Aziraphale breathes, shocked. “You don’t really think-?  Oh, dear.” He frowns, shaking his head. “He just seemed so kind.”

“You think everybody seems kind,” Crowley mutters. “Think I’m kind. I have no idea where you get it from.” He shakes his head, and for the fifth time in as many minutes yawns again.

Aziraphale suppresses a frown, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he pointedly refrains from mentioning 1941 and the intact first editions of the prophecy books he keeps in a place of honour near his desk. It’s too late to get into an argument, and even if it wasn’t, well. Any surveillance heaven might be providing doesn’t really need to hear him having a heart to heart with a demon he’s spent the last six thousand years allegedly thwarting. Instead, he clears his throat and glances at his watch. 3:48. “I suppose you do have a point about the time. It is rather late – er, early.” He studies Crowley for a moment. “Are you certain you’re in a fit state to drive?”

“Course I am.” Crowley swings his legs off the couch and blinks for the first time in two hours. “I could drive with my eyes closed and it’d be fine. Probably. Long as I avoid the M25.”

Aziraphale, having driven far too frequently with a completely awake and non-blinded Crowley, shudders at the mental image this suggestion produces. “I think not,” he says shortly, and waves a hand. Atop the back of the paisley couch, a small pile of blankets appears, topped with a dark pillow that looks reasonably comfortable, if not entirely perfect. Crowley stares him down long and hard like he’s waiting for an explanation, and Aziraphale breaks eye contact first as he gives a nervous shrug. “It’d be terribly inconvenient if you discorporated yourself after all this planning. Someone has to counter my influences, yes?”

“Your side wouldn’t be very happy to hear you offering shelter to a demon, I don’t think.” There’s no bite to the way Crowley says it, just an odd, not-quite gentle honesty. “Might be better for both of us to avoid it.”

“Yes, well. Should Gabriel make an entrance similar to his last one, I can assure you I’ll be the first to know.” Aziraphale busies himself with the table of wine bottles, sorting and resorting them without rhyme or reason. “In any event, I’ll be awake reading. I’m certain I’ll see them coming in enough time to allow you a hasty retreat.”

There’s another long silence filled with nothing but the burning sensation of Crowley staring him down. A minute passes. Two.

Crowley’s spine turns to liquid again and he flops back on the couch. “Night driving’s boring anyway,” he says, as if that’s the deciding factor. “Might as well raise Cain here instead of my own place.”

“I’d rather you sleep and leave Cain as he is, thank you.” Aziraphale keeps himself from rolling his eyes and glances over at Crowley. “I’m afraid the arrangement isn’t terribly elegant, but it should suffice for a night.”

“It’ll do,” Crowley says, and tugs a blanket over himself. It’s draped so sloppily over his form that Aziraphale can’t see how it can possibly be doing him any good for insulation, but he refrains from crossing the room to adjust it. Crowley is, after all, six thousand years old. He does not need to be tucked in.

The demon settles himself across the cushions and examines the blanket with a raised eyebrow. “Are those knitted snakes in the pattern? How thoughtful,” he says, a bit drily, and closes his eyes. It’s a good thing, too, because the snakes were decidedly not intentional and Aziraphale can’t quite hide his surprise at the revelation. “Night, angel. Wake me up when the world ends.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widen. “You can’t sleep until the apocalypse, Crowley,” he sputters, but there is no reply. He looks over, and Crowley is breathing evenly, fast asleep in the blink of an eye. It’s almost miraculous how easily he does it, how peaceful he looks with his eyes closed, calm and beautiful like a star that’s falling instead of an angel already fallen.

Aziraphale crosses the room slowly, careful not to disturb him. He picks up the sunglasses that fell to the floor at some point in the evening and folds them up, sets them on the side table. Then, gently, ever so gently, because he won’t forgive himself if he wakes Crowley up from this, he bends over and adjusts the blankets to cover him better. When it’s done, Aziraphale studies him for a moment, taking in the serene expression and the comfortable sprawl of his body across the couch, and he allows himself a small smile as he leans in, just slightly. “You will wake having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best,” he whispers softly, a blessing in the night, and crosses the room to read.