#my brain immediately: oh so stinky is right. he's at least half right. he has to be now

[stupidsexygrizzop]

listen i love tex but i do think stinky has a point and if he snapped and broke tex's nose yeah i would be upset about it but in the like popping popcorn and pulling up a chair kind of upset

[artemisia--hq]

This prompt is from @kittensocute ‘kageyama and hinata are stuck on a ferris wheel ride’

(*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

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When one thinks of amusement parks, games and rides, and generally a fun, happy time instantly comes into mind. This, however is decidedly not fun. This is a nightmare, a weaving of pure fear and terror, and Tobio swears if he ever manages to get out of here alive, he is so going to—

“Aaahh! Ahh! We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!”

“Stop yelling, dumbass!” Tobio yells. He rubs his face with both of his palms when Hinata still wouldn’t stop screaming like a banshee. “Death is gonna be the least of your concern because I’m gonna kill you first if you don’t! Stop! Yelling!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Hinata cries, “and you’re yelling, too!” He serves Tobio a stink eye, or as stinky as he can possibly muster with his ashen face and trembling lips. Tobio just returns the glare a hundred-fold, and that seems to do the job of shutting the idiot up as he looks away with an obnoxious huff.

But the sudden silence only gives way for Tobio to marinate in regret, recounting every action that had led to the disaster they’re currently in.

It was supposed to be a fun day in the amusement park, and it did start out that way. The first and last time Tobio had been to one was years ago, with Kazuyo-san and Miwa for his tenth birthday. It is one of his most treasured memories that is completely unrelated to volleyball, the only time he had fun without it.

But spending it with his friends (and yes, that includes that bastard Tsukishima, however mortifying that concept is), had been admittedly fun, too. They were all together during the first hour, playing games and getting into every ride they could. But he and Hinata had been pre-occupied with one-upping each other with a shooting game and before they knew it, their friends were out of sight.

It was Hinata’s idea to ride the ferris wheel to look for them. Now they’re stuck in a cramped, glass-covered carriage for fifteen minutes.

“This is why you don’t get to have any dumbass ideas, you dumbass,” Tobio grumbles out loud.

Hinata bristles. “Wh-what?!”

“This is all your fault in the first place.”

The other boy lets out a disbelieving gasp. “You’re the one who said, ‘oh yeah. Good idea,’” he says in mock imitation of Tobio, flattening his hair as he does so.

He’s not wrong, but Tobio can’t give Hinata the satisfaction of being right, either, so he clicks his tongue and looks away.

Silence once again engulfs them.

Tobio gazes through the glass of the carriage to take his mind off of certain things that’s been circling his consciousness like incessant, annoying flies, things that shouldn’t be given permission to reside in his thoughts.

Getting stuck a hundred feet above the ground is bad enough as it is—getting stuck with the worst possible person just makes it a hundred times worse.

Tobio risks a sideway glance out on the corner of his eyes. Hinata has his arms around himself, as if he’s purposely trying to take up as little space as possible. Which is a weird concept to wrap around—as small as Hinata is, his larger than life presence could more than fill up a room, with that beaming smile and loud, cheery voice.

But Hinata is none of that presently. He looks quite pale, wide eyes darting around for every creak and squeak of the ferris wheel carriage, small hands clenching and unclenching the sleeves of his sweater. The most frustrating thing of all: he wouldn’t stop chewing his lower lip, now looking red and swollen and just so ki—

Tobio has to give himself a few mental punches in the head to wrench his attention away from it and to clear his thoughts.

See, this is why he absolutely shouldn’t be alone with this orange-haired gremlin. He gives Tobio horrendous ideas.

“K-Kageyama?”

Tobio’s body temperature drops to subzero. Fuck, was he caught staring? Was he too obvious? He should run—wait, no, fuck, he’s trap, he’s done for—

“Wh-what?” He snaps, anger immediately acting as a reflex.

Hinata flinches, then he sighs, looking down on his feet. “Never mind.”

Something twinges in Tobio’s chest. God, why is he so…taken with this stupid idiot. “What is it?” he asks, cutting down his tone, just a little.

The other boy still has his eyes cast down, squirming. “Uhm…”

“Out with it, dumbass.”

Those round brown eyes squeezes tight as Hinata blurts out, “Canyouholdmyhands?”

Tobio sputters, “Wh-what?”

“Can you hold my hands, please!” Hinata yells, extending both of his hands like an offering.

Okay, either he has completely lost his mind, or Hinata has.

He goes for the more convenient option.

“Are you crazy? No!” He whips his hands behind him, for good measure. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m scared and my hands are cold!” Hinata grouches, and for a second, he has every intent to fight and demand for it, like he always does, but then he deflates and slumps on his side of the carriage. “I-It’s fine. That was weird, anyway. Sorry.” He then proceeds to hug himself again, shrinking within his sweater.

Hinata has never looked so tiny and vulnerable.

Tobio’s mouth starts to open when the carriage suddenly sways and groans on his hinges. Hinata screams and Tobio is already lunging forward even before his mind could even process things, and his hands grabs onto cold, clammy ones, fingers intertwining tightly.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die, Kageyama!”

“Sh-shut up! That was just the wind!”

“I-I don’t want to die, Kageyama!” Hinata wails, tears pricking on the corners of his blown, shaky eyes. “I-I still have to be good in volleyball! I still have to beat you!”

Tobio has never seen Hinata this distressed before, or even this legitimately terrified. He’s always been a scaredy-cat, but never like this. Tobio shuffles closer, gripping their joined hands. “No one’s going to die, so stop screaming.” He gives another reassuring squeeze, and it might be instinct or reflex, but Hinata squeezes back. “I won’t let that happen.”

Hinata sniffs. He blinks his glossy, golden eyes at Tobio “R-really?”

Tobio nods. “Yeah.” He hears some commotion from below and he presses his face on the glass. “Look, they’re doing something about it now.” He turns to face Hinata again. He could go in for a smile, but he figures that would only scare Hinata more than comfort him. “We’ll be out of here in no time, so just…think about something else.”

Hinata shakes his head frantically. “I-I can’t. There’s nothing in here that can distract me!” Then his gaze lands on their entwined hands. “Except, maybe…this.”

“Yeah, well…if that helps,” Tobio murmurs as he stares at their hands, too, before stalwartly looking away. If Hinata finds comfort in that, Tobio, on the contrary, needs a distraction of his own away from it. He settles at looking over the glistening lake dotted with tiny boats shaped like swans and turtles at the distance, but all of his nerve endings seem to concentrate on the point of contact between the, feeling each ridge and bumps of those rough, calloused hands wrapping around his own. Yet, they’re also unbelievably soft, if that makes any sense. Hinata just seems to defy all rules of the universe, from his jumps to the feel of his hands.

They are a bit sweaty, though, which is kind of gross. But Hinata being gross is not an entirely alien concept to Tobio, so whatever.

“Your hands are really warm,” Hinata says suddenly in genuine awe, as if he doesn’t mean to say them out loud.

Tobio’s hands are not the only ones getting warm—he can feel the back of his neck and his ears prickle with heat. “And really big. And your fingers are super long.” Hinata adds.

Tobio is half a mind to withdraw his hand and pocket them into safety, if only to keep them away from scrutinizing large eyes and to save himself from spontaneously combusting. But it does seem to calm Hinata, so it’s a risk he just has to endure.

He faces the other boy—the whole distract himself thing isn’t really working, anyway. “Obviously, dumbass,” he jibes, “I’m bigger than you everywhere.”

Hinata just nods, then he’s silent for a moment, before whispering, “Is this weird for you?”

“What, that I’m bigger?”

“No, stupid,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes. “I meant, this.” He gestures at their hand, lifting them and letting it drop in the space between their knees.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Tobio says, although he’s not really sure if he’s saying that to Hinata or himself. “You’re the one who asked for it.”

Hinata shrugs. “That’s different. I didn’t think you’d be up for it.” When Tobio doesn’t answer, Hinata sighs. “I-I mean, you normally do this kind of thing with…you know…” he trails, his pale cheeks quickly rising in color, eyes looking anywhere but at Tobio’s face.

“No, I don’t know,” Tobio says.

Amber eyes finally locking with blue ones, Hinata says in the softest voice, “You do this kind of thing with the person you like.”

“I do like you.”

It must be the work of altitude and oxygen and all the science-y stuff Tobio never paid any attention to in class because it’s the only logical explanation why his mouth decides to run off without his brain. He resists the urge to face palm himself hard enough to propel himself into the next dimension.

Hinata, understandably, stares at Tobio like he’s grown an extra head plus a tail. “You—like—what?!” he screeches, face and neck dousing in crimson red, and Tobio figures, he’s faring no better. “Y-you like me?!”

“I-I meant as a-a friend!” Tobio stammers, shouts, whatever. “As a friend and—and teammate! Dumbass!”

“I-I know that! I-It just surprised me!” Hinata shouts back, even as his face burns even deeper, redder than the sun settling behind the mountains.

Then he snickers, quickly turning into a full-on laugh.

“W-what? What’s funny?” Trying to sound demanding is hard when Tobio’s heart is lodged in his throat and with his entire body on fire.

Hinata snorts out a giggle, then he’s smiling at Tobio, radiant and flushed and—

Beautiful.

Here, trapped in a cramped, musty enclosed glass a hundred feet up in the air, Hinata—his rival, his partner, and if it isn’t obvious enough, the guy he’s been crushing on for months, looks achingly beautiful.

“Well, that makes me happy, because I like you, too!” Hinata exclaims.

Tobio has never really understood the expression ‘on cloud nine high,’ but he’s pretty sure this bursting feeling within his chest must be pretty damn close.

Then the beaming smile turns into a teasing smirk. “Even though you’re sometimes mean and violent and calls me dumbass more than my own name.”

And Tobio can’t help it, he smirks right back. “Dumbass.”

Their nonsensical argument of who likes who continues until the ferris wheel starts to turn and move again, continuing even after their feet touch the ground, as they zigzag their way among the crowd in search of their friends.

With Hinata’s hand still clutched over his.

—————————————

Thank you for indulging my request (begging) for a prompt! I have to apologize, though, this is not as good as I’d like to be, but it does help me ease out of my writing slump. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! ^o^

You can also read it on ao3 (with minor edits)

[bleedinghearthalstead]

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 7! Crossposted on AO3. Can’t believe I’ve already written 15,000+ words for this AU. Thanks again for all your comments, they keep me motivated.

"Surprise!" Mouse's grin slightly falters when Jay continues gaping at him.

Once his still somewhat sleep-muddled brain catches up, the biggest grin forms on his face and Jay pulls his best friend in for a hug. He pulls back to punch Mouse in the arm. "What the hell, man? I thought you weren't supposed to be stateside until next week!"

Jay startles awake at his phone buzzing on his nightstand. The room is pitch dark except for the blinking screen of his cell, somebody calling him. He checks the alarm clock next to him and lowly grumbles, seeing that it is 1.44 a.m. Grabbing the offending and still vibrating object, he squints at the screen. When he sees the caller ID, his heart skips a beat.

He throws the blanket off of him and gets up off the bed, quickly pressing the green icon. "Hey man, just give me a sec," he whispers and tiptoes out of his bedroom, careful not to disturb Hailey who is still asleep. She stirs only for a second, then turns around to her other side and is fast asleep again. Quietly closing the bedroom door behind him, Jay goes back to the call. "Buddy, everything alright?" He doesn't usually get calls from the other person at this time of night unless it's urgent.

"Jay, I need you to do me a favor-" And Jay immediately starts going through a list in his head which DOD or Army Intelligence contacts he is still friendly with. "-and open your door."

His mental rundown comes to a grinding halt. "What?"

"Open your door?" He can hear the other man chuckling on the other end.

Jay quickly walks to his apartment door and pulls it open, revealing Mouse in his army fatigues and tan beret, green duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Jay can only stare.

"Surprise!" Mouse's grin slightly falters when Jay continues gaping at him.

Once his still somewhat sleep-muddled brain catches up, the biggest grin forms on his face and Jay pulls his best friend in for a hug. He pulls back to punch Mouse in the arm. "What the hell, man? I thought you weren't supposed to be stateside until next week!"

"We achieved our mission objective early and then I kept bugging Captain Morello about moving up my leave until he got fed up with me and put me on the next cargo transport to Germany. And then it was another 20 plus hours to get from Germany to JFK and from JFK to O'Hare."

Jay takes a good look at his friend – Mouse looks a little tired but happy. Happier than he was a year ago, before he decided to re-enlist. Jay had gotten him a job as a CPD tech, but after a couple of years it was clear that Mouse wanted (and needed) to move on to something else. Although Jay still doesn’t like the fact that Mouse went back to the Army considering what it did to both of them, he is glad to see that his friend has been doing well for himself.

"Welcome home, man." They grin at each other and Jay ushers Mouse inside the apartment. Jay closes the door and when he turns, he bumps into Mouse, who hasn't moved more than two steps into the place, and Jay gets a face full of stinky, dusty Army canvas. He scrunches up his nose in disgust. "Dude-" Before he can say another word, Jay spots Hailey standing by the bedroom door, not even six feet away from them. He must've not heard her get up. "Oh hey, babe. Sorry, did we wake you?"

Hailey only raises an eyebrow at her boyfriend. Jay's place is tiny and the walls are paper-thin, you can hear his next-door neighbor's TV through the wall. When she woke up to find Jay not in bed with her and heard voices coming from the other side of the bedroom door, she decided to investigate. Having heard their conversation, she deduces that the man in uniform standing in front of her is Jay's ranger friend who he had mentioned was supposed to come home next week and stay with Jay for a couple of days. Seems like he got into the city a little earlier than expected. She turns to Mouse with a warm smile and sticks out her hand. "Hi, I'm Hailey. You must be Greg."

Surprised to hear his given name – these days it's only coming from his mother or Jay if they're having a really serious talk –, Mouse drops his duffle to shake her hand enthusiastically. "Hi! Greg, yes, Greg. Everyone calls me Mouse though." Only when he sees that Hailey is just wearing an oversized shirt, her legs bare, and she looks like she just woke up – because she did, and looking at Jay, he looks like he just woke up too – does Mouse realize the time, his body clock still in another time zone. "Oh fuck, what time is it?"

"It's almost 2 a.m., buddy," Jay chuckles.

"Oh fuck, shit, I'm so sorry." He fumbles with the buttons on his watch. "I forgot to change the time on this thing."

"It's fine, man." Jay pats his friend on the back. "You want a beer?" When Hailey tilts her head at him in question, he shrugs at her. He won't be able to fall asleep now anyways, too hyped up by his friend's surprise appearance. When he sees Mouse fidgeting and glancing between Hailey and him, he says, "Why don't you go in the kitchen and get us a couple of pilsners?"

Mouse lets out the breath he was holding, glad for the distraction. "Sure, I'll be right back."

As soon as Mouse is out of sight, Jay moves closer to Hailey and leans in to give her a kiss. "Sorry we woke you up."

"That's alright. You weren't expecting him either, I take it?"

Jay sighs. "Like I said, I thought he was coming home next week. I didn't think he was gonna drop by like this." He scratches his head. "Listen, we're just gonna have a couple of beers, get Mouse settled in-"

"It's okay, I'll get the spare blanket and pillow from the closet."

Hailey is about to walk off, but he grabs her hand to stop her and smiles at her gratefully. "Thanks, babe."

"No problem."

When she disappears into the bedroom, Jay goes into the kitchen, finding Mouse already sitting at the small dining table, three open beer bottles in front of him. Mouse hands him one of the beers, taking the other one. They clink the bottles together. Jay sits down with a sigh, taking a large gulp of the beer.

"Hailey's not joining us?" Mouse nods at the third beer.

The other man shakes his head. "She's making up your bed for tonight."

Mouse grimaces. "Oh man, she doesn't have to, and again, I'm really sorry to barge in unannounced… especially if I had known that she was living here-"

Jay laughs. "She doesn't live here. If anything, I'd move into her place, it's much bigger and nicer."

His girlfriend comes up behind him at that moment and puts her hands on his shoulders, smirking. "The only reason we're here so much is because he lives closer to my district."

"So you're just using me?" Hailey slaps his arm as Jay laughs.

"I'll leave you two to it." She leans down to kiss Jay. "Don't stay up too late." She then smiles at Mouse. "Nice to meet you, Mouse. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, she exits the kitchen.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question," Jay calls after her, but only receives a giggle and a "goodnight, boys" in return before he hears the bedroom door close. He shakes his head, but has a dopey smile on his face.

"So that's Hailey, huh?" Mouse smirks at his best friend.

"Yep, that's Hailey." Jay takes another pull of the beer.

When Jay doesn't say anything else, Mouse rolls his eyes. His friend can be really reticent if he wants to. "When you talked about her, I didn't think you guys were that serious…"

Jay looks at him indignantly. "We've been dating for like six months!"

"Yeah, but whenever you mention her, you just say that you're hanging out and it's hard finding the time to be with her, what with work – she's police too, right? It just sounded more casual, is all." Mouse raises an eyebrow at him. "And even if you're saying she's not living here, I'm pretty sure that she spends more time here than you think." At Jay's frown, he points at the tea kettle. "You don't drink tea, buddy."

"So what? That's like one thing," Jay says, somehow irked.

"There were at least three pairs of shoes and a couple of jackets at the door that are definitely not yours." Mouse starts ticking things off on his fingers. "There was folded laundry from the both of you in the living room, you've got decorative pillows and a really nice throw blanket on the couch, there was a bottle of nail polish and a box of hair ties on the coffee table, it smells really nice in here and-" He points at the three little potted plants sitting on the window sill. "-the Halstead I know is a stone-cold plant killer."

Jay can only stare at his best friend, the beer bottle stopped mid-raise to his mouth. He's somewhat shocked at what Mouse could glean of their relationship in the few minutes he's been here. Surprised, not really. Mouse is one of the smartest people he knows – he always wonders how the CIA or NSA haven't poached him from the Army yet – and he wouldn't call him his best friend for nothing.

Mouse can read him like an open book. "Look, this isn't a bad thing, I'm happy for you." He shrugs. "I don't know why you felt like you had to hide it. Like, do other people even know you're dating?"

Frowning, Jay thinks about what his friend just said and it's kind of true. Hailey has met his team guys and they've gone out drinking before, and he's also met a couple of Hailey's friends, but except for the occasional night out, it's usually just the two of them. A lot of the time, they just hang out at his or Hailey's place. They did establish quite early on that they were exclusively dating, but how much of that have they shown to the outside world? Jay doesn't know. And it's been half a year. Half a year of them unintentionally playing down their relationship? They're both not that big on PDA, but he loves Hailey, he's pretty damn sure Hailey loves him too and they're very happy together. So why are they hiding?

Mouse thankfully changes the subject when he realizes he's hit a nerve and fills Jay in on the happenings in the battalion and how much the forward operating base in Afghanistan has changed from the time they were there in 2008 because of the troop drawdown. They spend another hour or so catching up until Jay starts yawning every couple of minutes. Mouse absolves him from having to stay up with him just so he has some company, citing that he'll be fine reading the magazine he bought at the airport, so Jay heads back to bed.

Lying down next to Hailey mindful not to wake her again, he cuddles up to her back, draping his arm over her waist. Sighing contently, he is ready to drift off to sleep.

"All good?" He hears her whisper sleepily. When she pulls his arm tighter around her, he smiles and kisses the back of her head.

"Yeah, all good." Jay falls asleep to the sound of Hailey's breathing.

* * * * *

Mouse insists on inviting them out for drinks the next night, still feeling guilty about his impromptu visit in the middle of the night. They agree on meeting in a pub not far from Jay's apartment, so a police detective, a SWAT sniper and an Army Ranger walk into a bar… The place is packed since it's a Friday night, people squeezing into the place to celebrate the end of their work week. Irish-inspired rock music and loud talking fills the air. They were just barely able to snag a tiny table with only one bar stool that Hailey gets to sit on, Jay standing next to her and Mouse on the other side of the table.

"The last time we were on leave together," Mouse almost has to shout over the loud din in the pub, "We were in a club and Jay got so wasted that he tripped and poured his beer all over a group of girls and almost started a fight-"

"I didn't start a fight!"

"You almost did and me and our buddies had to drag Jay outside and-"

"I would've been fine walking out on my own, thank you very much."

Mouse laughs. "You could barely get off the floor, man. I had to pay a taxi driver an extra 50 bucks before he agreed to take us home."

"I paid you back!"

"And in the taxi, he puk-"

"Let me stop you right there." Jay playfully glares at his friend. "You know I have just as much dirt on you, buddy."

Hailey is laughing at their banter, excited to hear stories of Jay's past. They have been together for a few months now, but a lot of Jay's military days are still somewhat of a mystery to her. He's let her in on a few select things, but usually only when he startled awake from a nightmare and woke up Hailey in the process, and even then he's very sparse with the details. So it's good to have someone like Mouse there to bring back positive memories from that time, even if they're somewhat disgusting.

A few times during the evening, Hailey thinks she might be imagining it, but Jay is a little more touchy-feely than usual. When they go out with other people, they of course stay close to each other, but Jay normally wouldn't be standing behind her, hugging her, or kiss her randomly. It's not like they're full-on making out in front of Mouse, although it does seem to have something to do with him. Maybe Jay just doesn't like showing his affection in front of other people or he's just more comfortable with his best friend. Hailey doesn't know what to think when Mouse smirks at them like he knows something they don't.

More than a few rounds later, they are surprised when last call is announced by the bartender and looking around they realize that they are some of the last patrons left. Mouse heads over to the bar to get a last round of drinks for them even when Hailey tells him no and Jay excuses himself to go to the restroom, leaving Hailey at their table. She pulls out her phone to check the time, sighing when she sees that it's already 2 a.m. Even though the evening has been fun, she'll be glad to head home. Mouse's late arrival combined with the man hunt for a murderer earlier today, she feels the need for sleep pulling at her.

"Hey beautiful," a voice comes from behind her, "You here all alone? Why don't you hang out with us?" She turns around and is confronted by two big bald guys dressed in all black, looking like a set of Humpty Dumpty twins on steroids.

Convinced that this is some kind of a joke, Hailey laughs. "No thanks, guys, I'm good."

"Come on now, we'll show you a good time. We know where to party all night long."

Before she has a chance to reply, Jay sidles up next to her, effectively putting himself between her and the two other men. "Sorry guys, she's with me."

They look Jay up and down and scoff. This is one instance where Hailey has to curse Jay's baby face. If you were looking at them as a bystander, it would look like her boyfriend didn't stand a chance. Jay isn't short, but the other men are at least a couple of inches taller than him and about twice his body size. And for whatever reason Jay decided today was a good day to wear a polo shirt and khakis, it makes him look like a preppy college kid facing off against two angry thugs.

"Listen, Lake Forest," Thug #1 says, looking down at Jay, "why don't you get out of my way so I can show her what it's like to be with a real man."

"I said she's with me," Jay growls and if his tone is more possessive than he intended, he's blaming it on the alcohol. "Now get out of here."

"Or what?" Thug #1 chuckles. "I'll lay you out right where you stand."

"Jay, no," Hailey tries to hold him back, but he's already moving towards Thug #1.

Jay gives him a condescending look. "I'd like to see you try."

And then it pops off. Thug #1 swings a fist at Jay's face, but Jay saw that move coming a mile away and ducks, hitting the other guy with two swift and surgical punches in the solar plexus. Watching his friend fall to the floor gasping, Thug #2 charges at Jay, but before he can take a step towards him, Mouse is already on his back, his arms going around his neck in a chokehold. The guy tries to shake the ranger off to no avail, his face turning beet red. He starts wildly tapping Mouse's arm, but Mouse only lets him go once he drops to his knees, heavily coughing.

Thug #1 decides to go for another round and roaring, he jumps up and pulls a knife out of his boot. The blade slices the air in front of Jay's face as Jay quickly pulls back. When he goes in for another stab, Jay slaps the guy's wrist with both hands, easily disarming him. Then yanking the other man towards him by the arm with one hand, his other hand at the back of the other man's neck, Jay pulls him down and knees him first in the stomach and then in the head, leaving the guy writhing on the floor. He kicks the knife away to a safe distance.

Alerted to the commotion, the thugs' four friends – all looking like they stepped straight out of a damn Eastern European gangster movie, either in track suits or leather jackets – rush over to help their downed comrades, poised and ready to get in the fight, one of them also drawing a knife.

Hailey has seen enough. She pulls out her badge and service weapon, holding them up in warning, then yells as loudly as she can, "Police! Don't move!" She points her gun directly at the man with the knife. "You, drop the knife!" He complies easily enough and the knife hits the floor with a clank. Hailey turns to the rest of the bar. "Everyone who doesn't want to get arrested tonight, get out of here, NOW!"

When Thug #1 tries to crawl away, Jay rolls his eyes and stops him with a boot on his back. "Not you, you moron." He turns to Hailey. "You got cuffs on you?"

Hailey shakes her head no, then grimaces. If they arrest the two, they have to call the police and go down to the district, do all the paperwork, give witness statements, which is going to take hours and Hailey is tired.

With the pub now empty except for them, Humpty and Dumpty and the bartender, Hailey turns to the latter. "You wanna press charges?"

The bartender shrugs. There's a couple of broken glasses on the floor and stools thrown over, but the damage is minimal. "Not if you don't."

"Alright then." Hailey orders the offenders to hand over their wallets, photographing their IDs with her phone, then takes out a couple of bills and leaves the money on the bar top. She sends off the pair with a warning to never show their faces in the bar again.

Walking home, Jay has his arm draped over Hailey's shoulder while she has her arm around his back. Mouse is walking next to them, jumping up and down excitedly. "That was fun!"

"Oh my God," Hailey groans and Jay smacks him upside the head.

Mouse just laughs. "We need to go clubbing tomorrow!"

[be-dazzled]

Can you write sometime a nacia one shot I saw one on you ffn and it was beautiful ❤

Be-Dazzled Short Series: The Huntress

Original Series: Fairytail

Pairing: Natsu Dragneel, Juvia Lockser

Warning: Death

Kindly play ‘Stand By Me’ by Florence and the Machines

…

When the night has come and the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we’ll see

The world had descended into utter darkness. Steps hit the cold pavement – urgent and unfaltering. The light from the lampposts flickered out as quickly as hope in the warrior’s heart. The vibrant blue hair rode the wind as the girl rushed to the abandoned clock tower. She wanted to stop but she couldn’t. She was a predator, a supernatural huntress. Her prey was on the top of the clock tower and he was about to devour the world with his darkness. She couldn’t let that happen, not under her watch. But there was a whisper in heart, a small little mutter that was almost easy to miss behind the louder voice of duty ordering her to protect the world.

You can’t kill him.

A part of her wanted to listen to that voice. She wanted to stop, just go back and let the world cave in on her. She didn’t have that privilege. It was her duty to protect all of humanity from the dark powers that lurked the grounds of the earth. No matter what, no matter who that dark power may be.

No, I won’t be afraid

Oh, I won’t be afraid

Juvia arrived at the foot of the condemned clock tower. She used no other light other than the one strong sliver coming from the moon. The moon had always been her friend.

The lock on the broken-down wooden door was still there. The sharp blade of her scythe shattered the old lock. Juvia pushed the door open with her right shoulder, shoving her body into the narrow opening. The air inside the dilapidated building was damp and stinky. Mischief of rats and some other kinds of infestations built colonies on every nook and crany. It smelled like the air was trapped inside the building for a hundred years.

Cautiously, she ascended the spiraling staircase, careful not to make any unnecessary sound. With every measured step, the wooden planks creaked. One broke beneath her weight and her heart almost leaped thinking that gravity would pull her down to her death. Juvia pulled her foot out of the broken floor wood, scraping her skin, and jumped to the side, near the structure’s foundation. Her expert blue eyes gathered the littlest light the small window allowed in. Just a few more steps and Juvia could finally put an end to this. To him.

Juvia gathered herself and continued on her pursuit. She’d have to put an end to the monster on top of that tower. Juvia jumped unto the landing with a light bounce.

There he was perched at the edge of the roof, staring at the full moon, his back on her. Even in the darkness, her blue eyes remembered his figure. The moonlight dimmed the color of his hair but she knew it was cherry pink. He was Natsu – Natsu Dragneel, the first and only man she ever loved.

Slowly, Juvia approached the figure. She wasn’t planning on a sneak attack. That wasn’t in her nature. If she was going to kill Natsu, Juvia was going to face him head-on. Juvia stopped in her tracks. Kill Natsu. She felt her chest tightened. Kill Natsu Dragneel. Acid burned in the pit of her stomach, churning its way up until she licked the ugly and bitter taste of it. She saw his head turn half-way, looking at her, studying her. Waiting, just waiting.

The light hit that part of his face visible to her. It was him. It was really him. The rush of realization rooted Juvia on her place and all she could do was stare. And Nastu held her blue beseeching eyes hostage. The moment stretched on what felt life forever. Until, he stirred from his position, turned all the way to face her. By some habit or instinct, her feet started to move towards him and Juvia almost stumbled on her steps when the bright light of the moon revealed Natsu’s true form.

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall

Or the mountain should crumble to the sea

Red amphibian scales devoured half of his face and his skin. His once warm brown eyes turned into red cruel slits. Blue horrified eyes continued drifting down Natsu’s full figure. Half of his body had been transformed but the process wasn’t complete. Half of him was still human.

“Juvia.”

His voice was a soft rumble against the cold breeze. But the name – her name – morphed the slits back to his warm brown eyes.

“Do it. You’re the only one who can kill me.” He ordered, not taking his human eyes away from hers.

Once again, Juvia’s heart and mind were at war. Her whole body screamed at her to just plunge the sharp blade into his heart. Her brain convinced her that the figure standing before her wasn’t Natsu. It was a monster. A monster who was going to end the world as she knew it. Her grip on the pole of her scythe tightened. She fell on her attacking stance, ready for the kill. But even then, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to do what her brain and her strong sense of duty ordered her to do. Because they were wrong, she wasn’t staring into the eyes of a monster, she was looking at Natsu.

A loud clank reverberated around Juvia, mixing with the crisp gush of the wind blowing her hair away from her face. Until, she could only hear her own heartbeat. That strong feeling that gripped at her, stung the back of her eyes. Juvia tore her gaze away from Natsu, ashamed of falling short from her duty.

When the words left her mouth, that’s when the stubborn tears began to fall.

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked, head hurting from the internal battle she was struggling to overcome. “I can’t do it.”

“I’m not who I am anymore.”

“No!” Juvia lashed out. She balled her hands into small fists and struck Natsu at the chest, one after the other. “Don’t say that!” she begged until her hitting sapped all her energy until she couldn’t stand on her own two feet. “You’re Natsu.”

Juvia fell on her knees, surrendering to the most powerful force on earth – gravity. The jolt of pain was the least of her problem. It was nothing compared to the pain that she was grappling with.

“Bring him back.” She managed to say despite the lump that was blocking her airways.

She felt a cold and sharp end poking under her chin. It dented her skin as one long claw forced Juvia’s head up to face him.

“Please, bring Natsu back.”

She didn’t care about anything anymore: not her mind, not her ancient duty, not the fact that she was vulnerable.

“Bring my Natsu back.”

She couldn’t even see through the flow of tears blurring her vision. But she felt the cold pole of her scythe and Natsu’s colder hand covered over hers.

“Just don’t forget,” his voice was a soft rumble in her ears. “I will always be with you.”

She felt the cold press of his lips against hers and she was rendered helpless. The predator, the protector, the huntress, she was helpless in the hands of her enemy. But she knew it wasn’t going to last long. Soon enough, this agony would end. All she could do was close her eyes and immortalize this moment in her heart. Then, Juvia’s eyes forced open when she heard that undeniable sound of blade buried into flesh.

Natsu plunged himself into her scythe.

Juvia immediately retrieved her blade but it was too late. Natsu’s human flesh began to shatter into ashes and all Juvia could do was watch as the existence of the man she loved slowly disappeared, carried by the wind into the silent night.

“I love you, Juvia.”

It must have been painful as his body gradually break apart into fading swirls of dust. Natsu didn’t show it. He smiled through the ordeal as his flesh washed away. That was how he wanted Juvia to remember him, smiling through his own tears, his own pain. Because he loved her very much. Too much that he took the responsibility away from her. He took his own life so she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt.

I won’t cry

No, I won’t shed a tear

“I love you, too.”

The wind gathered up Juvia’s blue hair. Natsu Dragneel had become nothing but a memory. His blood was fresh on her blade. She traced the crimson liquid, transferring some on her own fingers. The huntress rubbed her fingers together with her lover’s blood in between them. She felt the texture: like flowing water. How ironic, she thought. Water was a symbol of life. The blood on her fingers, on her blade, was nothing but a proof of life’s end.

Juvia looked down the silent ground below her. There was nothing, only darkness. She wiped one final tear away from her cold cheek. She promised herself it was the last tear she would ever shed.

She was a huntress and it was her duty to protect humanity from evil. Maybe, if she’d keep reminding herself that, she’ll hurt less.

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

…

Writer’s Corner: AHHH! I seldom get a Navia request. If you follow my writings, you know how much I like the idea of Navia in a romantic sense and not just a brotp. hehe Hope you like it.

Also, you might be wondering what is it about that ‘Be-Dazzled Short Series’. I still don’t have anything concrete so just forget about it lol.

[bpd-seishi]

Oh worm? Neko au? Tea?

FDSJFJFLJSDFJLK THE WAY THIS QUESTION IS WORDED GOODNESS I’M NOT SURE WHETHER TO LAUGH OR CRY– 

djsfklasdfn anyway, um. i probably should’ve answered this closer to when i posted that thing that mentioned the neko au but afdlkjsadfkl better late than never, right? :’) 

okay so. this’ll probably be disappointing to a lot of u but not everyone in this au is a kitty, some of them are just normal people who have to take care of these neko losers sahflasjdk RIP. i should mention that my versions of nekos have kitty claws (but not paws), cat ears and tails (as is the standard), and a lot of catlike behaviors. so they’re still mostly human, but sometimes i talk about them acting super catlike and i don’t wanna confuse anyone adsfkl ;w; 

so! without further ado! the kitties are: seishi, akira, nico, saiji, narumi, marin, kasumi, and i’m thinking i’m gonna have neko kazuomi too :0 just for fun, i’m gonna throw some stuff about their personalities here: 

seishi white ears and tail. i kinda made fun of him in my tags but he actually is a sweet lil kitty,, he just had bad caretakers before landing in ayumu’s care :’) he used to be terrified of baths because they consisted of just a hose and really cold water, but now he’s more tolerant of them because ayumu actually sets it up nice and puts him in warm water, go figure. he still doesn’t like them cuz he hates getting wet, though. he also doesn’t like getting his claws clipped and cries every time it happens lsdjflk ;w; it’s like this every goddamn time RIP he tends to chew/lick things when he’s nervous (which is often. poor little ptsd kitty :’0). his favorite target is ayumu’s hair. he likes to crawl into his lap, wrapping his skinny, gangly arms around him, and just. really go to town on his hair aljdfjlkasd he has kind of a lisp that he’s embarrassed of and i love him honestly he’s just an oversized lap cat. all he wants to do is be in ayumu’s lap and vibrate purr really loudly, disrupting whatever ayumu was doing :’3 he also likes to bring him dead animals as presents, which disturb the hell out of ayumu asdlkjflaksd RIP ;w; 

akira grey ears and tail. the kinda kitty who rubs against people who are allergic to him, and yes i know that’s just a body language thing but akira does it on purpose alkjdsflskdf. 100% knocks glasses off tables just for fun. really wants mikoto to be his caretaker cuz he thinks she’ll be mean to him because she’s fun to harass, and he constantly jumps on her stuff/lap to get her attention. gets a thrill out of being yelled at/told no really he just wants some attention his old caretakers never played with him and kinda neglected him :’(he also scratches at her door at 4:30 in the morning (because let’s be honest he just didn’t sleep asjlkfdsf) for her to make him breakfast,, even though he’s damn well capable of making it himself. mikoto buys ear plugs to tune him out but she still has the scratches on the door to prove that akira was there, being a little monster the kind of cat who thinks every goddamn can u open is for him. it is not. he also eats plants and then demands mikoto rubs his tummy because now it hurts and it’s definitely not a trap nope he’s never had a bath in his life. he smells terrible and i hate him asjflksadjf ;w; 

nico white ears and tail. a sweet, if somewhat fussy kitty (like seishi tbh. that’s what they both are. sweet but a lil fussy :’3). one of those weird cats that actually likes water. she would stick her head under the faucet if it fit ;w; she even likes swimming, which is weird for cats/nekos in general. she likes maiko a lot (of course) and brings her animals to express her affection. the catch is that unlike most cats, she brings living animals to her jladhflksadjf. she doesn’t like killing them but maiko isn’t,, really sure what to do with them oh geez– she usually just sets them free but don’t tell nico okaytends to be a bit fickle about touch. she doesn’t like strangers petting her but with certain people (mostly maiko lksfdjlkdsf) she’ll silently demand affection via glaring at them across the room alfklsdj ;w; likes those cutesy collars tbh but gets mad when people treat it in a gross way (and rightfully so too!! leave her alone weirdos!! >:T). also definitely appreciates grooming more than the boys above, but she has trouble with nail clipping cuz it makes her nervous. what if the person doing it clips them too much? :’0 A) that would hurt and B) she needs them for territory battles with saiji lkasdjfklasdf okay that last one’s a joke but still

saiji white ears and tail. in speak of the devil! actually saiji’s a pretty calm kitty, not particularly putting up a fuss…..unless kasumi’s around. those two can (and will!) battle it out jlasdflkdsjaf RIP. mostly though he’s pretty chill, even with nico (they’re really just mutually amicable rivals tbh). doesn’t like water but puts up with baths cuz he hates smelling bad unlike certain other kittens i could namealso likes maiko, and also brings her animals as a gesture of Love and Appreciation asjdfhlkasdf. his, however, are in fact dead, and he even goes to the trouble of putting them in nice, neat coffin-like boxes. boy really goes all out dfkjlsadjf. unfortunately, maiko also doesn’t know what to do with these, lmao she usually throws the dead bodies out but she’ll keep the box if it’s really nice looking. once again, don’t tell saiji :’)LOVES being groomed. being brushed, having his nails clipped, all that jazz. like i said before, the one thing he’s not super crazy about are baths but eh, he’ll get over it, he doesn’t like being Stinky (unlike akira alsdflks poor mikoto) doesn’t like it when people give him catnip, because he’s not a fan of embarrassing himself. which inevitably happens when a kitty is on catnip :’3 

narumi brown ears and tail. energetic kitten who loves being played with! seriously. she has way too much energy. help. most likely to jump on the table while ur doing homework and sending ur papers scattering (unless ur names mikoto, in which case akira’s more likely to harass u). neutral on baths, but has a general distaste for getting wet. like akira, is also the kind of cat who assumes every time u open the fridge ur getting them a treat whICH NO IT’S NOT FOR U DAMMIT. smarter than him in that she will not eat leaves, but she does chew on plants for fun sometimes. she loves making mischief (though not as much as kasumi does. but, we’ll get to her later :’3) has no interest in having a caretaker outside of her family but could probably use someone setting rules for her while she’s at school. and trust me, people try to, and usually she’ll listen if she’s told “hey, don’t do that”. more than anything though she needs a goddamn playmate aksdflajsdfkl :’) loves the laser pointer more than anything. all nekos have enough human brain to understand that u can’t actually catch the dot, but still feel compelled to anyway. narumi doesn’t care that she can’t ever get it, she just loves the thrill of the chase >:3c 

marin goldish white ears and tail. sleepy kitty. kinda kitty who finds a sun patch, lays down immediately, and passes the heck out. also very affectionate: will rub up against u and “groom” ur hair (read: lick and preen, like i mentioned seishi doing earlier) even if she doesn’t know u all that well. another weird kitty that doesn’t mind getting wet all that much, she even likes it. she actually does stick her head under the faucet on occasion just cuz it just be like that sometimes, y’know? gets even sleepier on catnip, somehow. no one thought it was possible. most cats get more energetic/stimulated on it, not her. she just gets cuddly and more tired aldsfjlkasd this actually happens to my cat on the nip sometimes slkdfsd trust me i know what i’m talking aboutpretty independent kitty, but not opposed to cuddles or a lap to sleep on. she’s all about that nap life, son her favorite toy is a mouse given to her by a coworker at the station. it has a nice little bell that jingles and she likes to hold it when she sleeps. when she’s feeling playful though she’ll bat it around a bit owo 

kasumi black ears and tail. ratty ol’ alley cat who hisses at everyone who so much looks at her funny. infamous for nyooming through the dorm halls at three in the morning and for staring at empty spaces and telling everyone that she sees a ghost there (to be fair, half the time, she isn’t actually lying). bites people because she likes it. knocks things off tables and gets into spats with saiji just cuz ljasdfjlkasd. pretty much any terrible cat behavior u can think of, she does. she only really cares about misuzu, and often tries to get her attention by scratching up her skirt or door…..which often get her in trouble. absolutely hates baths. she’s no longer allowed to have catnip. no one can control her when she’s on it. they can barely control her when she’s not on it lajdsflkdsa :’) uses her claws more than any of the other kitties, and thus absolutely despises having her nails cut. we’re talking full on tantrum here, folks. the only person she lets do it is misuzu, and she still whines the whole time RIP ;w; also drops off dead animals for the one she loves (misuzu of course). it’s extra significant for cuz she has to deal with the ghosts of the animals she kills :’0 

kazuomi orangey brown ears and tail. most brash of all the kitties, naturally. not particularly energetic, though, at least not as much narumi. however, when he does feel playful, he jump high as hell, which is both impressive and terrifying. he loves toys he can pounce on. however, he hates the red dot, because he knows he can’t get it, yet he’s still compelled to after it anyway. it always wins and it makes him >:( hates baths, but he’ll put up with them because he gets so sweaty sometimes and he doesn’t like feeling gross. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t whine and complain the whole time, though laksfdjklsadf he doesn’t need or want a caretaker. however,, he’s not opposed to someone who’ll scratch behind his ears from time to time when he has that Itch :’) don’t touch his belly. more than any of the other cats he hates it when people poke/tickle/rub there jalksdfjklsd. he doesn’t understand why people feel compelled to, anyway. after all, his belly isn’t the part of him that is Kitty anyway, so stop trying to get access!! while we’re on the subject, though, don’t touch his ears and tail without permission either >:/ (though that goes for all kitties, really) 

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch. 2

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampies…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of….however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st chapter

SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

Chapter 2

An Unexpected invitation FOR ME TO RANT ABOUT EXPOSITION!

Before I get into the meat of this chapter, allow me a bit of ranting time about some exposition we get in both chapter 1 and 2 here.

Even though Alexia was told she’s a rare and super cool SOULLESS when she was 6 years old. NOBODY IN HER FAMILY knows she’s Soulless. And I’m sitting here like…

????????????????????????????????????

There’s no fucking way any 6 year old can keep the secret that they have cool powers for longer than 10 minutes.  Especially if they weren’t told it was something to keep quiet about, and especially, ESPECIALLY if you’re telling a girl who grows up to be an out-going woman who’s confident about defending herself.

It’s as if there is some dramatic reveal on the horizon where her family finds out and is mean to her for being born BADLY.

SPEAKING OF BEING BORN BADLY this bit of characterization burns my biscuits a big one.

Alexia is considered unfuckable for a few reasons.

1.)    Big Nose, face isn’t considered traditionally pretty. – Okay that’s a good addition

2.)    She’s too STRONG-WILLED – Okay sure

3.)    She’s half Italian.

Woah hold up there…

Sorry, not sorry, but I hate this cowardly, cynically pandering horseshit.

Can that make sense in this pseudo-bullshit historical setting? Sure.  But we also have fucking werewolves and vampires.  The fact that they chose for her ~lower status~ to be tied to the fact that she’s A DIFFERENT KIND OF CAUCASIAN is deliberate and pathetic. They author wants to pander to women who feel like they’re…

“NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS” but at the same time don’t want to risk the book not selling if HEAVEN FUCKING FORBID there was a BLACK AND/OR FAT AND/OR TRANS AND/OR LIVES WITH A DISABILITY woman on the cover.  It’s just pandering to that extra shitty part of white people that’s like, “I’M A SECOND CLASS AMERICAN CITIZEN BECAUSE MY HERITAGE IS IRISH AND A LONG TIME AGO THE IRISH WERE TREATED SHITTY!”

Were the Irish and the Italians treated shitty in historical contexts?

Oh absolutely!  

Problem is this woman published a Victorian styled book that’s full of steam punk, yiffable supernatural vampires, in 2009. When you write it in the modern era and it’s full of fantasy bullshit and you want to make commentary about discrimination and prejudice? Don’t try to jam that in with a leading woman who’s an upperclass, straight, able-bodied, neruotypical, white, skinny, cis-woman but like THE BAD KIND OF WHITE!

Is it a book written from a problematic perspective? Not necessarily, but it’s fucking cowardly and you can get the hell out of my face with that gutless trite.

I have a feeling this is going to be an on-going theme too. People being discriminated against EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE COOL!  This chapter already implies that Vampires, Werewolves, Scottish People and YES even Scientists (for reasons) are discriminated against even though ALL OF THE ABOVE are well represented in the upper echelons of high society.

Can you be rich and respected but still be discriminated against? Yes, of course, but…it’s very hard for me to picture any of these groups as hugely oppressed when they’re dripping in money and good social standing. I’m so dreading the scene where somebody says something blatantly and maliciously racist about her powerful, wealthy werewolf boyfriend and Alexia stands up and GIVES THEM WHAT FOR cause she TOO knows what racism feels like cause a dude she asked out once was like, “Eww ur half-Italian no way lawl.”

I’m white, but Jesus Christ, fucking white people.

So with a page of me bitching about exposition out of the way….Alexia, her mother, her 2 half-sisters, and her step-father are all gossiping it up at the breakfast table. And boy howdy is it apparent what the author and by extension, what she thinks her audience would find shitty.

YES YOU GUESSED IT! Her younger half-sisters are

PRETTY BLONDE GIRLS!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOW COULD THEY!?!?!??!?!?

But they do have the negative trait of being SHALLOW!

Yes Alexia stand in judgment of those women who care about how they look.  Let’s ignore how every outfit you don, is lovingly described in detail, and that there were at least 3 separate situations last chapter where you fussed about how you looked.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with the author happily describing elaborate, Victorian outfits, or a woman fussing over her looks. I’m saying it’s bullshit that she snidely calls them shallow and insipid from atop her ~NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS~ throne while engaging in the same fucking behavior.

GO TO HELL ALEXIA!

So,

There’s an article in the paper about the dead vampire but there is no mention of Alexia in it. When asked if she knew anything about it she derails into huffing about how she wished she said more mean shit to Lord Macaron. When like…I’m sorry? You both said some sassy stuff, but HONESTLY? You violently killed a man at a ball, and got out of that REALLY FUCKING EASY, and while Alexia insulted Macaron to his face the worst he said to her was she was as covert as a sledgehammer and immediately apologized for it. (BTW, he said this in response to her DEMANDING to be given a job that doesn’t exist but she will get one like it in t-minus 5 chapters.)

Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know…a bit more concerned that a mysterious man attacked you last night, and there could be more like him out there RIGHT NOW rather than you didn’t have enough witty one-liners on hand? Get over yourself Alexia.

So let’s settle a bit.

She goes out huffing on a walk with her Bff Ivy Hisselpenny to calm herself down.

Even if Ivy is also an outcast due to voluntarily wearing SILLY HATS!  I’m calling it now she is a cinnamon roll that must be protected from Alexia’s “I’m best girl” narrative.  May I say I find it a gross misuse of time to use a paragraph to explain the difference in French/English Fashion by their introduction but spend 2 words, “Hideous bonnet” on describing the silly hat? FOR SHAME!

Thankfully Alexia doesn’t’ incessantly tease poor Ivy…yet.  On their walk they are stopped by Mable Dair who tells Alexia her Vampire Matriarch, Countess Nadasdy, wishes to see her.  

Everything about that situation screams bad fucking news for her.  Again, thankfully, Alexia has enough brains to try to determine HOW BAD that situation could be.

So she sees token gay and vampire friend Lord Akeldama.  The author makes no qualms about characterizing him as the floucniest priss that ever ponced a sissy.  Now, I’ll confess, I have a guilty pleasure for fictional gay stereotypes that bleed into problematic territory. 

EH-HEM!                        

Yet Lord Akeldama is not doing it for me.  It might be the fact that since this is kinda Young Adult territory that you can’t be subtle. But I can’t help but feel condescended to with the tons of IMPLIED nods to how gay he is. I’d almost rather she just come out and say, “THIS MAN IS SOOOOOOOOOOOO GAY…HE IS A DICK WITHIN A COCK WITHIN A PENIS! HE’S LIKE A TURDUKEN BUT IT’S A DICK-COCK-IS!” Instead I’m tapping my fingers going, “Oh this new line of dialog now makes it the 67th new cutsey flower-based nickname he’s calling Alexia by! Thanks cause, I missed all the previous 66 of them!”

To be honest, I might be being a bit too judgmental here.  Like with all things I love a lot, I can be a bitter opinionated bitch about what I consider good and bad versions of it.  So anyway Akeldama doesn’t have much to add besides

“Create more sexual tension with that Hunky werewolf wiener”

BOY HOWDY AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO MORE SEXY AND ROMANTIC DIALOG LIKE…

“UR A BIG STINKY FART-FACE!”

“I KNOW WHAT YOUA RE BUT WHAT AM IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII? NEH!”

Say something Nice Faps:

Lord Akeldama being interested in Alexia makes some sense due to her soulless ability. The author makes a point about how he likes holding her hand and feeling human. So even if Alexia is insufferable or nothing special otherwise it makes sense that this vampire would enjoy her company for that at least.

They describe Mable as both chubby and very good looking. CAUSE TURNS OUT YOU CAN BE BOTH!

As I said, Alexia at least has enough brains to get some info before driving straight into the fire here.

[bluegrasshole]

Adam Birkholtz’s Foolproof Guide to the Perfect Birthday

because i never posted it on tumblr in full and i’m craving that sweet validation. holsom fluff ???? two words i never thought i’d say. there are dick jokes tho so don’t worry i haven’t been kidnapped. 6k and rated T for “total drama holster”. content warning: ABBA

ao3

As far back as he can remember, people have told Adam Birkholtz that he is too dramatic. It’s usually said in an exasperated tone, by his parents and schoolteachers and coaches -- that Birkholtz boy is quite the character, or Adam, do you have to be so loud? they say, and then sigh. Sometimes it’s said with amusement, often when he first meets new teammates or people at parties -- is he always like this? And someone -- ok, usually Jack or Dex -- nods and rolls their eyes and says you have no idea. Point is, people say it all the time, even though it’s definitely not true. And now he’ll never, ever get the chance to prove them wrong, because on March 28th, 2016, Holster’s going to die.

March 28th, 2016, Justin Oluransi, co-captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team and love of Holster’s life, is turning 23, and Holster doesn’t know what to do about it. It’s in a week, and he’s got nothing.

They’ve long since had a rule for holidays and birthdays and anniversaries to forego gift-giving in favour of less stressful things like dates and hat tricks, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about that. It’s just, he’s been busy – being co-captain and co-Haus-supervisor is a lot of work, and his fourth year classes have been kicking his ass, and they’ve been practicing more than ever trying to rebuild the team post-Jack, and playing too, and he and Ransom been having like, a lot of sex, and – fuck. So he hasn’t had much time to plan anything for Ransom. And it’s kind of freaking Holster out.

The thing is, he wants it to be perfect. Because, well, he loves Ransom. Duh. They’ve only been together for 152 days (and 3 hours) but really, they’re both on the same page about the whole together-forever thing. Even when they weren’t dating, being apart for any length of time was never going to be an option. They’re like, soulmates or something. Swolemates, if you will. They put the romance in bromance. And the sex is swawesome. Double duh. So Holster just wants this birthday to be unforgettable, because it’s a first out of many firsts and also their last year as students in the place they met, and just – he needs it to be good. Alright?

On the 20th, Holster does what any desperate man in his position would do: he turns to sitcoms for help.

It only takes four episodes of Full House, six of Modern Family, and a whole season and a half of Friends to conclude that really, Ross never deserved Rachel at all, and that this plan is a totally inefficient use of his time. He’s still exactly where he started, with his heart rate sitting between light jog and Chowder touching a puck off the ice, and getting closer to that time Nursey spilled some vodka-cran on Dex’s laptop by the minute.

He walks into the Haus after his afternoon class on the 22nd to find Bitty struggling through some French grammar with Jack on Skype, as has become a normal sight in the past few months.

“Hey guys,” he says, properly dejected, and throws his bag down and thumps into a chair. It creaks ominously but he ignores it to lean his chin on his arms and sigh.

“Holster?” Jack says. Bitty nods and turns the screen so it captures half of each of them. Jack waggles his fingers at him and Holster can only muster up the will to show his teeth and nothing more.

“Everything alright?” Bitty says.

“No,” he says, and then, like a stroke of brilliance, it comes to him. Why does he have to do all the thinking and planning? He’s surrounded by people who know Ransom nearly as well he does, isn’t he? He sits up fast, and both Jack and Bitty blink at him, frowning.

“It isn’t?” says Bitty slowly.

“Uh, not yet, but it’s fine, I think. Hey,” Holster says, “what is like, your ideal date? Hypothetically.”

Bitty reddens instantly and glances at Jack, whose frown has turned into a confused smile.

“Oh,” Bitty says, “um. Hypothetically? Maybe, uh, cooking together, then bringing what we made to have a picnic in the sun. You know. Bring a few beers, some sandwiches, pie. There’s a nice river by my house with a clearing that’s kind of hidden from -- oh. Um. Hypothetically, that kind of thing.”

In Providence, Jack coughs. “We did that this summer,” he says.

“And wasn’t it nice?”

“It was,” Jack says. They share a heated glance, which is impressive given that Jack’s face is on a computer screen. Sounds like it was probably nice and naked, Holster thinks, which honestly sounds like right up his and Ransom’s alley. Except, well, they don’t cook much, and it’s March. There’s snow on the ground. So. That’s out of the question.

Bitty’s phone trills and he jumps up. “Alarm for my laundry. I’ll be right back.” He pats Holsters shoulder quickly and leaves.

“Nothing planned for Rans’ birthday, huh,” Jack says, leaning closer to the screen. Holster knows for a fact that Jack has all his friends’ birthdays in his phone and the alarms are set to ring a week in advance, the day before, and the morning of. Goddamn organized bastard.

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Holster grumbles, crossing his arms. “What’s your answer?”

“Okay, okay. Don’t tell Bittle but,” Jack says, lowering his voice, “I’ve rented out the rink at the Rockefeller for a private hour-long session for us around midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

Holster isn’t able to describe the sound that comes out of his mouth -- half laughter, half squeak, half snort. Oh, whatever. So he’s never been that great at fractions.

“How much did that cost you?” he says, his voice sounding strangled even to his ears. “That’s in nine months!”

Jack just shrugs. “Think it’ll top a picnic?”

Holster gapes. “I -- Jesus, Jack. I can’t do that for Rans.”

Just then, Bitty walks back into the kitchen with a laundry basket full of hot clothes and sets it down with a clatter next to the table. He cracks open a can of beer he must have brought from downstairs, and takes another from the top of the basket and waves it at Holster. A drink sounds nice right about now, actually. He takes it gratefully.

“Hm? Can’t do what?” Bitty asks.

“Hiking,” Jack says rapidly.

“It’s true. I hate hiking,” Holster says. “And nature. Fuck trees.”

Bitty frowns. “You and Ransom went on a camping trip in August. You said, and I quote, that you are the Kings of the Forest, Sires of the Squirrels, and Lords of the Leaves, and that if you could take the earth’s hand in marriage, you would, and you’d ask the rivers to marry all three of you as Justice of the Peace. Actually, I think I have a screenshot. Here, look--”

“Uh, I developed an allergy to dirt over the winter. Gives me this rash, like, down there. Super painful.” Ignoring once more the creak of the chair under his weight, Holster slides it back. “Gotta go. Thanks for the help!”

He drains the can of beer in thirty seconds -- not quite a record but fast enough that he’ll have to tell Rans about it later -- and runs out to the tinny sound of Jack’s laughter before Bitty can ask any more questions.

The next day finds him following the frogs to Annie’s after practice, because Dex has a shift and Chowder and Nursey need to study, and Holster still has a capital-P-Problem.

“Oh! I’m so excited you’re going to study with us,” Chowder says as he pushes the door open to the sound of the tinkling bell. The warmth and the scent of coffee wraps around them and Holster breathes in deep. “I’ve been meaning to pick your brain actually, about this stats project I think you did last year? With that cool prof, Daigle?”

“Hm?” Holster’s momentarily distracted by the sweets display, but shakes his head to clear his head of chocolate chips and turns back to Chowder and Nursey. Dex goes behind the counter. “Oh, yeah, I’ve still got it on my computer. Yo, uh, I’ve got a question.”

“So do I,” Dex says, tying his apron around his waist and making his way to the register. “What do you want?”

Nursey leans on the counter and winks. “Surprise me.”

“You’re getting black coffee,” Dex says without pause. He types it into the POS quickly and doesn’t look up.

“With a surprise?”

“No.”

“A surprise shot of hazelnut?”

“I guess you’ll find out,” Dex says. “What about you two? Nursey’s treat.”

Holster orders something sweet as Nursey splutters a half-hearted protest and Chowder gets something that has a colour vaguely reminiscent of milky tub juice (never again, he reminds himself), and they stand at the counter watching Dex make their drinks with the same agility and confidence that makes him a great player on the ice. For a second, Holster is envious of that calm, because he himself hasn’t felt very calm lately, and then remembers that this is Dex, and calm is the opposite of his natural state of being anywhere else.

Five days, he repeats over and over in his mind. Five days left to plan something for Ransom.

“What is like,” Holster starts, readjusting his laptop bag on his shoulder, “your ideal date.”

“Sharks game!” Chowder says immediately, to no one’s surprise. “Or, huh, maybe bowling. Bowling’s fun. Cait and I love bowling.”

“Mm, nothing says romance quite like putting your feet in stinky shoes worn by hundreds of other people,” Dex says. He hands Nursey his drink -- decidedly not just black coffee -- and starts in on whatever grassy thing Chowder wants. It probably has kale or something in it. Ew.

“What do you know about romance?” Nursey asks.

Dex ignores him. “Look, Holster. It’s easy. Go to Jerry’s. You can sit for a while, it’s cheap, there’s food, good beer, a pool table for when the conversation gets awkward, and if you’re lucky there’s live music. Dinner and entertainment, all in one place,” he says.

“Hm. A truly optimal bird-to-stone ratio,” Holster says. “And I do appreciate efficiency. I’m just looking for something a bit more, uh, special? Rans and I go to Jerry’s all the time.”

“You asked, bro,” Dex says, shrugging. He scoops something neon green into a cup of ice and Holster barely holds back a grimace, choosing instead to turn to Nursey with what he hopes is a beseeching look on his face. It’s one thing practicing your most convincing expressions in the comfort of your own shared bathroom in a frathaus, but it’s another to actually use them.

“Derek Malik Nurse. My favourite, most fanciest man. What about you?”

Nursey barely has the time to open his mouth before Dex and Chowder answer at the same time: “Poetry reading.”

“Hey! That’s not -- it’s -- okay, yeah, probably.” Nursey takes a sip from his mug and comes away with a whipped cream mustache on top of his regular facial hair. “But in my defence, it’s a nice relaxing environment and a great opportunity to move past small talk and delve into the deeper questions of essentialism and our purpose in life and what comes after death.”

“In reality nothing gets him hot like a poem with a good rhyme scheme,” Chowder fake-whispers into Holster’s ear.

“Second only to one without a rhyme scheme at all,” Dex says.

“Aw, fuck you guys. Who paid for your drinks again?”

“And left me a nice tip. Twenty-five percent, Nursey? Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” Dex says. “By the way, you’ve got a little -- yeah -- oh, no, you made it worse. Oh well. Tough luck.”

“Goddamn it!”

Chowder laughs all the way to their table, and Holster, well, Holster still has nothing.

He corners Ollie and Wicks behind the cafeteria salad bar at suppertime when he tells Ransom he’s going to get more tartar sauce for his fish sticks, and asks them his question. They hesitate for a second, nod simultaneously, then fist bump without even looking at each other. A level of synchronicity he and Ransom strive to achieve, but probably never will.

“Paris,” they say together.

Holster snorts. “For real, come on.”

“Bro,” Wicks says, “you said ideal, not realistic.”

“Yeah. That Eiffel tower shit is like, wicked ideal. The ultimate.”

They fist-bump again, of course. In his amusement and slight confusion (amusion, he decides in his head -- or, confusement, maybe), Holster forgets the tartar sauce completely, but distracts Ransom with a well-timed kiss and the whispered promise of a backrub when they get back to the Haus. Across the table Bitty rolls his eyes at the sight and opens his mouth to say something that will most definitely start with F and rhyme with Chris Pine, and in his haste to stick his tongue out at him, Holster accidentally puts it in Ransom’s ear. Instead of the expected indignant squawking he gets a half-shiver which is like, ok, weird, definitely getting filed in his head for... later.

“You doing okay?” Ransom asks that night, after later. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other much these past few days.”

They’re naked and sweat-sticky but warm and wrapped up in each other and blankets in the bottom bunk, Holster’s feet hanging off the edge through the hole they cut in the frame for this specific purpose. He feels like he’s the sleepiest he’s ever been, probably, so he burrows his face deeper into Ransom’s neck and sighs.

“M’just busy,” he mumbles, unwilling to put the effort into making himself more understandable than he has to. Ransom will get him. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Ransom says. Holster doesn’t remember answering -- the next thing he knows, it’s morning, and Ransom is scrambling to turn off their alarm as George Michael asks them to wake him up before he go-goes. After a second of relative silence -- there’s the shower squealing below them and a few loud thumps of someone coming up the stairs and Bitty singing Ariana Grande somewhere -- Ransom groans, leans over to kiss Holster on the cheek, then rolls out of bed to get ready for the day.

Holster’s walking to class an hour later with March and one of their other econ friends, regretting mostly every decision in his life that has led him to this point. He’s only got a few days left and is no closer to finding anything worthy of Justin-Love-of-Holster’s-Life-Oluransi. Actually, he’s less and less sure that anything worthy exists.

“--and then the prof said… Adam! Holster?” March says, and Holster shakes himself.

“Huh?”

“What’s up with you, bro?” says Jimmy Jeffers. Nice guy, but what else would you expect from a guy named Jimmy? It’s a good name. There’s a shortage of Jimmys in the world, Holster thinks.

“Adam!” March repeats.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I’ve been distracted lately, I guess,” he says.

March squints up at him then nods decisively. “Justin’s birthday,” she says, though it seems to be mostly for Jimmy’s benefit. “Next week. He’s got nothing.”

“Who’s Justin?” Jimmy asks.

Holster gasps and brings his hand to his heart. “Bro, how can you not know who Justin is? Everyone knows who Justin is. I can’t believe this.”

“Check your Facebook, he’s on there,” March says, rolling her eyes and waving a hand in dismissal at Jimmy, who immediately takes out his phone. “Talk to me, Birkholtz.”

“You dated him. What do you think I should do?” Holster asks, recognizing the desperation in his tone and unable to stop it.

“Weird,” Jimmy mutters.

“Dated is a strong word for what we did,” she says, “which, by the way, you were there for most of.”

“Weirder,” says Jimmy again, jumping over what looks to be a fallen snowcorgi and twisting to avoid someone on a bicycle riding by. The sidewalk is filling with people making their way to and from class, kicking their way through the slush and salt that’s built up on the ground.

“Don’t bring the fact that we’ve seen each other naked on multiple occasions into this. I need help!” Holster cries. He buries his face in his hands. “If I don’t find something to do for Ransom’s birthday, I’m going to die, plain and simple!”

“Adam, watch--”

March’s voice cuts off abruptly as Holster, still hiding behind his fingers, collides with another body -- a man’s, slightly past middle-aged, in a well-fitted navy suit and fluffy green earmuffs. The man blinks up at him, rubbing his forehead -- he’s very short, even by Holster’s standards, and vaguely familiar in the way that a man you’d seen on a Febreze commercial a couple times might be familiar if you walked by him in the street -- and smiles.

“Laser tag,” the man says.

Holster’s hands fly to his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Excellent,” the stranger says, reaching up to pat Holster on the shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Holster can see March hit Jimmy’s arm repeatedly, gaping, and Jimmy whispers something furiously and pulls out his phone. “Laser tag!”

“What?” Holster asks. Because, well, what?

“There’s a great place in the north end of town that rents out a room for birthday parties. I’m a regular there -- I go every weekend. Here, do you want their card?” The man is beaming, adjusting his suit and hitching his leather messenger bag back into position, the reaches into his breast pocket to pull out a stack of business cards, every one the same. He hands one to all three of them. “Gotta run. Good luck!”

The man dashes off into the snow and Holster is left with his mouth open, brow furrowed in confusion, unsure whether or not that was just a fluffy green hallucination. Except, well, he is holding a business card, and March and Jimmy are too.

“Oh my god,” March breathes, then bursts into laughter.

“That -- that was the president. Samwell University’s president,” Jimmy says, turning his phone around for Holster to see. Sure enough, there he is, with his own Wikipedia page and everything. “Weirdest.”

“You know,” March says later, once they’ve finally slipped into the back of their lecture hall only two minutes later, “it’s not such a bad idea. Want me to send a message?” She points to her laptop, where the laser tag place’s Facebook page is open, and Holster shrugs, because what else can he do?

Concentrating on class isn’t happening, so instead he texts Ransom a dirty limerick which could probably give Nursey a run for his money in the poetry department (There once was a d-man named Ransom / Who Holster thought very handsome / He had a big dick / Enjoyed a good lick / One half of the sexiest twosome), and doodles aimlessly in the margins of his notebook. Laser tag could work, he thinks, as long as they’re not like, in a game with a bunch of kids… but maybe he could bring the others along for some surprise team bonding, which could be fun. Ransom would enjoy the couple hours of distraction from his homework and it’s competitive enough that it would hold everyone else’s attention. Also, like, shooting shit is fun as fuck. Maybe it’s not romantic or anything, but --

“Aw hell,” March whispers. She points to her computer screen. “It’s booked up until Tuesday.”

Holster all but collapses onto the desk.

“Well, there’s always dinner and a movie,” Jimmy says, patting Holster’s arm gently.

It’s time, Holster thinks, to haul in the big guns.

Lardo’s studio space is on the other end of campus, in an old convent repurposed in the 70s as first the building for Samwell’s secretarial sciences then later as the art department. General consensus is that it sees as many if not more portraits of Jesus and Mary now as it did as a convent, because, well, art students. When Holster knocks on the door of Lardo’s designated space, he’s totally unsurprised that Shitty is the one who opens it, dressed only in what looks to be a fuschia jock strap. That probably wasn’t a very common sight for the old nuns, anyway.

“Holster! The man, the myth, the -- are you still growing, dude? I swear to fuck you weren’t this tall last time I saw you. Hey, Lards, Holtzy’s here. Seriously, brah. What’s Bitty putting in his pies?” Shitty says, mostly all in one breath. He steps aside to let Holster in, who enters to see Lardo lying on a paint-splattered tarp, an arm thrown over her eyes, a googly eye stuck to her wrist and a bag of two-bite brownies half-empty beside her. There are crumbs on her mouth, and three cans of Redbull on a table in the corner.

“You alright?” Holster asks, poking her with his toes. He plops down next to her and crosses his legs, really hoping the paint on the tarp is dry. It makes a crinkly, plasticky sound as he arranges himself.

“Just brought a piece down to the kilns,” Shitty says, falling too, more gracefully than is generally expected from a man of his aesthetic. He lays his head on Lardo’s stomach. “She worked on it for weeks.”

“Tired,” Lardo says. Her voice is hoarse. “Art. Hard.”

“Believe me, I know,” Holster says.

Lardo’s arm lifts slightly so she can squint at him. “How,” she says. “You’re not an artist.”

Holster pffts. “Just because you don’t appreciate my Abba fanfiction doesn’t mean no one does.”

“I’m more of a One Direction guy myself,” Shitty mumbles. Lardo begins petting his mustache with her thumb which would be sweet if Shitty didn’t moan softly with each downstroke (and if he wasn’t ninety five percent naked).

“Right. Okay. Well.” Holster clears his throat. “What is your ideal date?”

“Are you propositioning us? I swear I had a recurring dream of this exact situation in two different languages last year, neither of which were English. Do you speak Dutch, by any chance?” Shitty says, and Holster doesn’t quite know how to answer. Luckily, Shitty has never needed a response to continue his ramblings. “Nevermind. Stoned stargazing, definitely. Looking up at the universe, feeling small, but like, connected. Because you’re together. You feel me, brah? Like you’re part of a community. More than the sum of your parts. God, that’s beautiful. Should I write that down? Remind me to write that down.”

There’s a pause, a silence filled only by the steady drip-drip of the sink in the corner of the room and the noise of the tarp moving with each breath Lardo and Shitty take.

“Is he well?” Holster eventually asks Lardo. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“The doctors say there’s nothing we can do,” Lardo says. Her hands move up to scratch at his hair. “So, there’s this park uptown, right? Across the street from this laser tag place, I think. D’you know it?”

“I’m... familiar, yes.”

She pushes Shitty’s head down to her thighs and sits up sleepily, like a mummy awoken from her slumber. “Okay, well, it’s super gorgeous in the summer, with this river running through it,” she says. “You can rent a swan boat and shit. They have little food dispensers so you can feed the ducks. And in the winter they have an outdoor rink run by the town, and a bunch of snow tunnels at one end of the park, and like, snowman-making competitions. There’s a hot chocolate vendor too. So I always thought… No, no. It’s stupid.”

“What! What!” Holster straightens his back. This could be it.

“Well, alright… Uh, there’s this bridge at one end of the park. Beautiful wrought iron, overlooks these ice sculptures that light up when the sun sets. Super pretty.”

Of course Lardo would figure it out for him. Why did he ever ask anyone else? “Oh my god, is it one of those bridges you can put a love lock on?” he asks, incredibly excited. It might be the answer to his desperate calls for advice to the universe.

She frowns. “What? No. I’ve just always wanted to spraypaint a dick on it.”

“Nice,” Shitty says with emphasis.

“You know, bring some rum to keep you warm, go at like two in the morning, and just fucking paint it on there. It would represent how the bourgeoisie --”

Alright, so Lardo isn’t any help. Why was he kidding himself that it would be so simple? He doesn’t bother listening to the rest, choosing instead to turn and fall face forward onto the tarp. His nose lands in a splotch of paint that is definitely not dry. Just his fucking luck.

He texts his family group chat that night, because sitting across from Ransom at the library and watching the fucking adorable way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating hard isn’t accomplishing anything. In fact, with every lip-bite, Holster feels his soul hurtle towards death even faster.

Me [7:43]: Friends, family and acquaintances, what would be, in your opinion, the most romantic date ever? This is by far the most important question I have ever asked you.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:43]: dibs on being an acquaintance

Mama B [7:43]: Ooohhh!!!!

Mama B [7:46]: Maybe a fancy homemade supper, some good wine, then a walk downtown

Mama B [7:47]: That’s how your father proposed, twenty-five years ago last January!!! :-)

Ransom barely looks up when Holster snorts, only furrows his brows deeper and bends so close to his paper his nose is almost touching. Which is so cute. God, his boyfriend is fucking gorgeous. Ugh. Holster feels like he’s going to explode.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:49]: yikes lol

Rebecky with the good hair [7:52]: going to a fair. winning stuffies for each other. funnel cakes. kissing him at the top of the ferris wheel

Me [7:53]: It’s March

Mama B [7:54]: I thought you were dating Justin, not March????

Holster sometimes regrets telling his mother everything about his life (or, like, almost everything). This is one of those times.

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [7:55]: what’s this for anyway

Me [7:56]: It’s for Ransom’s BIRTHDAY. You should KNOW THIS. I THOUGHT I told you to put his birthday on the family calendar MOM

Rebecky with the good hair [7:58]: she just got up from the couch to go check it

Rebecky with the good hair [8:00]: ok she’s back, she says it’s not there. whoops

Rebecky with the good hair [8:01]: we’re going to the mall to get him something before it closes. anna you coming

TyrANNAsaurus Rex [8:02]: only if u buy me a pretzel. extra mustard

Rebecky with the good hair [8:03]: fine. come downstairs. i’ll go get dad in the garage

Me [8:03]: what about me!!!

Me [8:06]: UGH I’M DISOWNING YOU ALL. YOU WERE MY LAST HOPE

Me [8:07]: goodbye

Me [8:07]: f o r e v e r

“Holster?”

Holster nearly drops his phone at the sound of Ransom’s voice, and scrambles to catch it, fumbling a few times.

“Babe! It’s not time to stop yet, is it?” he says, smiling widely with his phone precariously caught between his pinky and ring finger.

“You’re. You’re humming that song,” Ransom says. His voice sounds strained. “The sad Abba one. Slipping Through My Fingers.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, Rans,” Holster says, wincing. Abba has betrayed him again. “The Winner Takes It All would maybe be more appropriate thematically in this situation. Or Knowing Me, Knowing You? Actually, no, I got it. SOS. A classic. Wait, who am I kidding? They’re all classics.”

Ransom looks pained. “Babe.”

Right. Time to go be distracting somewhere else. Holster kisses Ransom on the cheek with a gentle reminder to text him when he needs a few minutes break before moping off to the Haus, determinedly in silence.

Friday they have practice again, and Saturday is spent on a bus to Connecticut, then playing, then sleeping, then driving back the next morning. Everyone’s exhausted, even on the trip up, and Holster caught the bus driver’s questioning eyes in the mirror when they first climbed aboard.

“Long season,” he said, shrugging. “And midterms.”

That’s not really the reason he’s struggling now. He’s just, well, tired, mostly. Frustrated with himself. He’s the worst boyfriend in the world probably, and should just go curl up into that weird crawl-space behind the washer and dryer in the basement that Ransom swears is where the ghosts go during the day. It’s true that it often smells like berry Lip Smackers down in that general area, though Holster’s not sure that isn’t just Chowder’s laundry detergent.

Whatever. Point is, Holster should know what to do for his boyfriend’s birthday, shouldn’t he? He knows Ransom better than anyone in the world (he knows this for a fact because he once sent Ransom’s family a questionnaire about Ransom, so he could compare answers -- none of them got Ransom’s favourite Yankee Candle scent, which is Honey Clementine, and only Dami, the eldest Oluransi sister, knew that number three on Ransom’s bucket list is to touch Serena Williams’ right bicep).

When Holster wakes from his nap on the bus, his forehead wet and cold from where he was leaning on the rattling window and a funny feeling in his stomach, he realizes there’s only one thing left to do: give up.

The bus driver drops them off at the rink, and it’s Nursey and Ransom’s turn to bring the equipment in. Normally Holster would stay and help, but it’s snowing hard and Tango looks like a puppy left out in a storm, so Holster rolls his eyes and asks if he and Whiskey would like a drive back to their rez. He can come get Ransom later. One of the only things he can do for him, apparently.

“How are you doing, Holster?” the unfailingly polite Tango asks as soon as he climbs in the back seat of Holster’s old-ass maroon Sunfire.

“Why? Does it look like I’m doing bad?” Holster says. In the rear-view mirror, Tango’s eyes go wide and concerned. Whiskey, of course, only snorts.

“Well, it does now,” he says in that drawling, bored, monotone voice of his. Though his eyebrow twitching does indicate slight interest, maybe.

“Oh no!” Tango gasps, then scoots up in the middle seat as far as his seat belt allows him so his head is nearly level with Holster and Whiskey’s. “What’s wrong, Captain?”

“I don’t deserve to be called that right now,” Holster grumbles.

“But we won yesterday,” Tango says. He sounds confused, but Holster can’t confirm if his face matches it, because it really is snowing pretty hard and he has to focus on not hitting any students or university presidents that might be out for a stroll. It probably does, though. Perpetual confusion is like, most of Tango’s personality. Sweet kid, though.

“I’m no longer captain of my own life and relationship, so I’m demoting myself. Well, metaphorically-speaking.”

“Holy fuck,” Whiskey whispers, and hits his head on the back of the seat a couple times.

Since he’s got nothing left to lose, Holster decides to ask one last time. It’s not like he’s going to get a good answer, not from a couple eighteen-year-olds, but fuck it. Right? All in.

“Um. Hey. Okay, first of all, if you tell anyone I asked you this I will, uh, turn you both upside down and pour Pepsi up your nose,” he begins, to cover his bases.

“I prefer Coke,” Tango says promptly.

“I know. So, it’s Ransom’s birthday tomorrow, and I don’t have anything planned yet, so… what sounds like the perfect date to you? I’m pretty fucking desperate.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Tango’s practically vibrating in his seat. “I love the aquarium. There’s one in Boston! Oh my god. If you go, can I come?”

Whiskey twists in his seat and rolls his eyes. “This is stupid,” he says.

“Aquariums aren’t stupid,” Tango says.

“Not that,” Whiskey says. “I mean, you’re asking the wrong question. Why does it matter what we think is the best date?”

“I don’t think I understand,” Holster says. He pulls into a parking space near the residence.

“I know I don’t understand,” Tango says.

It’s only later, when he’s picked up Ransom and Nursey from Faber and brought them back to the Haus, and he’s in the kitchen watching Ransom talk to Bitty about the moisturizing benefits of coconut oil versus shea butter, that he thinks he finally gets it.

The chair creaks one last time as he leans back to enjoy the image, and gives out under his weight with a crack! and followed by the heavy thump! of his tailbone hitting the hard floor.

“Oh my god!” Bitty cries. Ransom looks like he’s torn between laughter and concern, and the giggles are winning out. “Are you alright?”

“You know, Bitty?” Holster says, sprawled out on his back with shards of wood poking his ass and back, and Ransom’s eyes crinkling in mirth and something even warmer. “I really think I am.”

In the end, it takes a couple hours of work, some very important phone calls, and much begging and chore-switching with the other Haus-mates, but when Ransom comes home from afternoon class on March 28th, 2016, the attic has become a giant, structurally-sound blanket fort, the Haus TV has been moved upstairs along with all game consoles, there’s four different kinds of takeout on the desk, a grocery bag full of snacks, a variety of condoms laid out on the bed, and Holster, sitting in the nest he made of pillows, waiting with a birthday cupcake and a party hat, beaming.

Ransom drops his bag and immediately crawls up next to Holster. The cupcake barely makes it out of the way before Ransom attacks Holster’s mouth with his mouth.

“Babe!” he says between kisses. “This! Is! Amazing!”

“You think?” Holster says. He’s so, so happy.

“Yeah. Look at all this! Is that green curry and chicken wings? And you got me a cupcake instead of regular cake? God, you know me so well.”

Because he can, Holster kisses him again. “I know you like how tiny they look in your big hands,” he says. “Oh, and everybody cleared out for the night, so it’s just us.”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Ransom says, collapsing onto the bed of fluffy pillows and smiling up at the polar-fleece ceiling. “How long have you been planning?”

“Oh, a little while,” Holster says, which is not even a lie. “You wanna play a round of Super Smash Bros? Winner gets to pick the sex playlist later.”

Ransom sighs happily and holds out his arms, and Holster goes easily. “Not yet. Come here and bask with me.”

“Happy birthday,” Holster says. He snuggles closer.

Everything is right in the world once more: Ransom is happy, Holster has accomplished something great, and no one died. Only one chair was harmed in the making of this birthday gift. Why did he think he needed a grand, romantic date or a fancy night out or any of those things the others suggested? This is what Ransom wants, this is what he wants, and this is just… them. Together.

As far back as he can remember, people have told Adam Birkholtz that he is too dramatic. Which actually, is kind of fine, as long as he’s still got Ransom.

“Best birthday ever,” Ransom says.

That’s all Holster ever wanted to hear.