#my history loving minute man I gave him the generals out

[dykedvonte]

I give Preston the gun from the U.S.S constitution quest because he loves war history and just the history of the states and I think it would make his day to shoot a cannon ball through a raiders heart.

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another ��Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 85 (Searching for Rafa Bonilla)

cw: mentions underage trafficking, drug smuggling

Conrad looked for Rafa Bonilla between his regular cases at the precinct, following clues and booking suspects to keep his captain satisfied. A few months into his search he finally located one of Rafa's known associates, according to police reports.

He called Heather, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Hey, you've reached Heather's phone. It's either the middle of the night or I'm with a patient, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Hey, it's me. I was hoping to talk to you, but I've got to work a little late tonight. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry. I love you."

He drove outside Brindleton Bay to greet the man who thought he had everyone fooled with his chess mentorship program. It would be less than thirty minutes before his students - mostly children - started showing up for their scheduled lesson in the park, so Conrad knew he had to work fast. He shuddered as he got closer to him, and not just because it was freezing outside.

"Jimmy Stefano," he said, dropping his voice an octave to sound serious.

"Not lately," mused the man with a laugh. "Who's asking?" He turned to face the voice who knew his old identity. "You? They said you were a cop now. No surprise they never let you work our cases."

Conrad knew they had no time for small talk and he whipped out his cuffs. "You're under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive."

"You can't be serious! Who?"

"Rafael Bonilla."

Jimmy's face went white, but he stopped resisting. As Conrad cuffed him, he asked, "Are you taking me in to help San Myshuno PD, or did she call you?"

Conrad scoffed. "She who?"

Jimmy laughed. "She told both of us sweet nothings, old friend. You were just dumb enough to believe them."

"Shut up and get in the cruiser."

Back at the station, Jimmy looked around the interrogation room in his orange jumpsuit once Conrad booked him. "Aren't you going to need the cameras on to record your attempt at my confession?"

"I want you to speak freely, Stefano. Tell me everything you know."

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously. "You're not working with San Myshuno PD at all, are you."

"I didn't stage an elaborate arrest just to scare you. I still plan to file a report after you and I catch up. Just talk."

"She really did get to you. Are you trying to let her ruin your life again?"

"Where the hell is Rafa?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in two years, when the last job we did together went bad. I assumed his sister told him to run since the charges he's facing are so serious."

"She doesn't know where he is."

"I'm sure she told you that. Did she tell you she was done with Los Tigres, too?"

Conrad flinched, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm happy with my chess students, but I can't get out now. When you walked, I should've joined you, but I didn't have your father's connections at the police station to keep me out of jail."

"I wasn't even there that night, but you gave them my name."

"Yeah, I did, because you walked before you even got started. Los Tigres only let you live because you became a cop and they didn't need the heat. I don't know what she told you, but if you think Ximena's turned over a new leaf and is done smuggling for the cartel, you're an idiot. She just uses new aliases these days."

Conrad breathed in through his nose. "If I turn the cameras on, will you avoid mentioning our history while you tell me what Ximena's still doing with the cartel?"

"What's in it for me, Sargent?"

"If it comes to it and you're telling the truth, I only want Ximena. As long as Los Tigres doesn't get caught up in anything at the Brindleton docks, I've got no reason to open up a window to the past. You should think about moving on, too. Turn that chess mentorship program into more than just a front."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us are lifers, you know."

Conrad hit record while Jimmy told him everything he knew about Ximena's past - how she escaped being trafficked in her teens by offering to run drugs for Los Tigres de Selva, working her way up to running an entire operation moving drugs from Selvadorada to San Myshuno, through Britechester, and back again. Her associates called her The Chameleon because of how often she changed her hair.

She'd been arrested but never did hard time, with those who worked under her often taking the fall, instead - like Jimmy Stefano. Twice. Ximena kept herself just clean enough to avoid prison, and dragged her brother into the same life. "Rafa and I used to pose as Simlandian military to run product for his sister, but he never got caught for that," Jimmy said.

"When was the last time you worked for her?"

"Four months ago."

Conrad led him through several questions, showing copies of Ximena's old police reports. When they'd finished, he released Jimmy Stefano. It didn't satisfy him to send a known smuggler back to the streets, but he'd gained some incriminating evidence against Ximena, at the very least. He was beginning to think he might need it, eventually.

He headed home in darkness, and his mind raced with possibilities. Could Ximena's activities have led directly to her brother's disappearance? Who were her enemies these days?

He tried to call her, against his better judgment, but she didn't pick up her phone. He hung up before the voicemail kicked in.

When he walked in the door, he found six-year-old Ash on the floor, working on a castle diorama for extra credit at school. He knelt down to help him without even changing out of his work clothes. "Can you help me with the small pieces? Mommy won't let me use better scissors, but my kid scissors barely cut anything!"

He grinned. Grateful for the distraction, Conrad pulled out an instruction booklet tucked under the edge of the box. "Of course. What did you need me to cut?"

"Just these windows," he said. "They're too small. And can you measure to make sure my towers are big enough? I want the biggest towers of the whole class! Like the Spire Tower!"

"Tallest towers, can do. Hey, did you want to use this lump of clay for anything?" (Finally, the clay comes out at a sensible moment!!)

"Yeah! Moat mud! And we could use real water!"

"Your mom won't be very happy if we make real mud in the house, buddy."

Heather walked into the room then, kneeling down next to them to play with Gord. "Please don't make real mud. Why don't you use the clay to mould a base for the castle?"

"Good idea, Mommy! Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow night? I've been thinking about pancakes all day!"

"I can make you pancakes for dinner, but your mom and I won't be here to eat them with you," said Conrad. "Tomorrow night, I'm taking your mom on a date."

"What's a date?"

"It's when people who like each other hang out," Heather said.

Ash's eyes grew wide. "Is there kissing?"

Conrad grinned. "There might be. What do you know about kissing?"

He paused. "Nothing, I guess. Scotti Holiday says it's like eating faces, but why would people who like each other eat their faces?"

Heather laughed. "Don't worry, Conrad's not going to eat my face. Are you almost finished with your diorama for the night? It's getting late and you should get to bed soon."

"Just a little while longer, Mommy. Please! I'm not tired and I'm almost done!"

When he and Conrad had finished, they displayed the excellent diorama on a kitchen countertop until Ash could take it to school in the morning. Before he went to bed, Conrad went upstairs to check on his sleeping baby girl.

Intuitive to his human's growing stress level, no matter how well he hid it from everyone else, Gord followed him. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[forever-rogue]

Hi Bee! I've been a long time reader and fan of your blog! The way you write for Eddie is insane 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I love it 🥹 if you feel comfortable, could you please write something for fem!reader x Eddie where she has a history of being bullied (physically & verbally) and one day they could be arguing or something and Eddie is on edge and raises his voice and moves too quickly and she flinches (or maybe has a panic attack or something) I would really appreciate this ❤️🥺 comfort and fluff at the end because I need that rn ❤️

AN | Okay, but this is a little angsty but mostly soft ��🥰

Warnings | Language, mentions of past verbal abuse 

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week. Weeks, really. And you felt like you and Eddie were like ships passing in the night more than anything else. You were busy with college classes and your part time job, and he was busy working at the shop. He’d been working a lot lately, even more than he normally did, but you hadn’t questioned it. You knew that you didn’t bring in a lot of money only working part time while you finished your degree, but it would be worth it in the end. 

But Eddie, good, kind hearted, wonderful man that he was, insisted that you it was okay. He wanted you to be able to focus on your studies, rather than have to worry about working. He was the main provider for your little family of two, and while it was a lot of pressure, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. In fact, one of the reasons he’d been working even longer hours and helping a few customers on the side, was so he could save up to buy you an engagement ring. You always insisted that you didn’t need anything fancy, but Eddie wanted to do this right, he wanted to do all the things with you, including proposing with a pretty ring.

Right now though, you were desperately wanting to spend some time with him, so you went ahead and planned a little date night for the two of you. You’d gotten a few very generous tips at the cafe lately and stashed them away in the rainy day fund; and now it was time to use them. You wanted a nice night out for both of you. 

“Eddie Spaghetti,” you were grinning from ear to ear as you walked into your shared apartment. You’d just gotten out of class and he should have been home a few minutes before you. He didn’t respond to your excited call for him and you wondered if he was home yet, “babe?”

You walked into the bedroom and found him sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and a fresh change of clothes. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed and leaned back on his hands. Poor thing looked tired, and you knew he deserved the rest. 

“Babe-”

“I heard you,” he said, not altogether rudely or kindly either, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hello my love,” you kneeled at his feet, reaching for his hand to take in yours, “I missed you today! I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. You could see the exhaustion in them and it made your heart constrict.

“Listen, I set a little bit of money aside for us and I thought we could go out tonight,” you were grinning, but there was an unreadable expression on his features, “get dinner and maybe catch a movie?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

“I just think it would be nice to have a night out to ourselves-”

“I can’t tonight,” he repeated as you pouted at him, “I’m sorry - maybe this weekend, okay?”

“But Eddie-”

“Please!” he snapped suddenly, dropping your hand as he gave you a sharp look. You’d never heard him raise his voice before…especially not at you. The only time you really heard him get loud was when he was in the thrill of the moment during a new campaign, “I’m exhausted and I have to go back to work tonight.”

“I don’t think you should-”

“Really?” his eyes narrowed and you gulped nervously, “then who is going to pay for everything, huh?”

“Eddie,” you stepped back, your heart racing as you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes, “I-I-”

“Not all of us have the luxury of going to school and working a few hours here and there at a coffee shop!” you’d never heard him this mad before, not in over three years of dating, and it frightened you. You didn’t like this Eddie and wanted your Eddie back. You flinched away from him, trying to hide how scared you were.

“I just thought you could use a break,” your voice sounded so small and hurt that it broke Eddie’s heart. He shouldn’t have snapped at you, shouldn’t have taken his momentary anger (which was not even at you) out on you, “you’ve been working so hard. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he tried to reach for you but you shook your head and pulled away to where he couldn’t reach you, “honey - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Will you come here, please?”

“No,” you shook your head and clambered to your feet before scampering towards the door, “please just don’t.”

“Angel,” he got up and tried to walk over to you but you ducked in the hallway, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m going to go,” you stammered nervously, almost running into the living room to grab your bookbag. Eddie followed you slowly, trying to keep a bit of distance that you obviously needed, “I-I’ll see you later.”

You were gone and out the door before he could say anything else, heading to your care. You weren’t sure exactly what to do, but you just needed some space. You’d never had a single moment with him like that before and it felt terrible. This wasn’t Eddie, and you knew that he wasn’t going to turn into some monster, but the moment had settled harshly in your bones. 

Eddie’s eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the door. He hated the look on your face; he hated himself more for snapping at you. He’d just been so tired and run down, and it had all come to a head. Unfortunately, it was you that was caught in the crossfire; his love, his princess, his angel. The last person he ever wanted to hurt. And he’d just gone and done that.

“Fuck,” he sighed at himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wanted to come after you, figuring you’d more than likely have gone to Steve and Robin’s place. But, more than anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, so he opted to give you space instead. 

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got home, Eddie was already in bed. But he wasn’t sleeping, instead he was staring at the ceiling, unable to calm his worried mind down. He heard the front door open and close, followed by your soft tread, but remained still and silent. He noticed the hesitation in your tread after he heard your bag settle on the floor, followed by your shoes. He hated the idea that he was the reason for your quiet shyness. 

You paused outside the bedroom door, noticing that it was still partly open, almost like a sign of apology. You paused with your hand on the knob before slowly pushing it open and letting yourself in. There was a soft glow from the bedside table where the small lamp was still on. It illuminated his body, but you knew immediately that he was still awake.

“E-Eddie?” you whispered softly, padded over to your side of the bed, cautiously sitting down. Your boyfriend rolled over so he was facing you, blinking softly but not yet saying anything so he wouldn’t push you further. You met his eyes and offered him a small little half smile. He visibly relaxed when he saw that you weren’t shying away, “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”

“Yeah - y-yes,” he sat up and leaned against the headboard, lightly patting the space next to him. You didn’t even bother to take off your clothes before crawling into your side of the bed, sitting cross legged next to him, “I…first of all, I want to say how sorry I am. I should never have talked to you like that. I know you probably don’t believe me right now and I don’t expect you to, but I will never talk to you like that again. I swear it.”

“I know,” you nodded softly, playing with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater, “I know you won’t, Eddie. I know that a one time thing isn’t going to change our entire relationship.” 

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you raised a tentative hand before reaching over and touching his cheek, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your soft palm on his skin, “I think I owe you an explanation too.”

“Sweetheart,” he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I am tired, and I’ve been tired and I know you have been too. And it’s not because you don’t work hard - I know you do. I know it’s not just going to school full time and working part time. And it’s nothing I hold against you, because that’s what we agreed to, and let’s be honest, school ain’t for me.”

“Eddie, you’ve been working so much,” you whispered, “and I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground. We’ll be okay if you cut back your hours, especially the extra ones. I can always pick a few more hours on the weekends…but we’ll figure it out.”

“I…” he swallowed thickly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, “I know I can cut back and we’d be okay….I took the extra shifts and hours because I was using them to save some extra money.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed in surprise; you spotted the dark pink flush in his cheeks, “whatever for?”

“I was saving up so I could buy you a ring,” he confessed, looking like a shy boy rather than a grown man. Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t prevent the small gasp that escaped your lips. A wave of emotion caused your eyes to prickle with tears, “I know you said you didn’t need an engagement ring or a big proposal or any of that, but baby, I want to do this. I want to do it right, and get you that ring.”

“Oh Eddie,” a few tears had prickled up and rolled down your cheeks, which he tenderly wiped away, “I had no clue…I…I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he promised, “I hope you’re not mad…”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you beamed at him, “I think you’re a stubborn man that won’t change his mind, huh?”

“I won’t,” he agreed, causing you to giggle at him, “I’m gonna cut back my hours, I swear. But I’m also going to get you that ring, yeah?”

“Okay,” you didn’t need or want fancy material things like shiny rings, but damn. You weren’t about to say no to Eddie. You knew now that he’d spoken his piece, it was your turn to speak yours, “I, ugh, also want to apologize for how I reacted earlier. I, umm, growing up kinda sucked, you know? Well, I know you know. I never really gave you the full details, ‘cause it never felt necessary. But in school I was bullied a lot, especially when I was young because of being different. Home wasn’t much better; my mom, she…liked my older brother and sister a lot but with me it was different. For whatever reason, she hated me and my life a living hell half the time. She used to call me names, tell me I was stupid and unlovable, and would never get anywhere in life.”

“Sweetheart…”

“She liked to yell, a lot, almost like it was her form of a drug,” you shrugged, “I’m sure that’s why I don’t like any sort of yelling nowadays. I never really left like I fit in anywhere. Not until I met you….you and the rest of the gang.”

“I…I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out as he settled his hand on your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “I had no clue…I-I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“We all go through our own things,” you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I should have told you sooner…but I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you very much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he leaned in and pressed a soft barely there kiss to your lips, “will you forgive me? I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you leaned your cheek against his, breathing in slowly, “we both…it’s not that we made mistakes, it’s just that….we just didn’t quite sync up today. And that’s okay, because we’ll learn and it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” his eyes were soft and bambi-like, making your heart melt. You loved this man beyond measure, and you knew he left the same, “how about we use some of that extra money we’ve stashed away and go away this weekend, huh? Just the two of us, no cares in the world.”

“I’d like that,” the smile on your face was breathtaking and electric and Eddie was positive he’d just fallen a little more in love, “let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” he agreed softly, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

[scribble-brain-aced]

for pride month, i have:

a list of how the hazbin hotel had their gay awakening. (or lesbian, or bi, or trans, or aroace, pan, etc)

Charlie: she watched Sleeping Beauty, the year after it came out. she looked at Snow White and thought “wow, she’s so pretty.. but also Price Florian.. wait.” because this was in 1938, she didn’t know what bisexuality was, but she knew and accepted her feelings, because it wasn’t a big deal to her. in the 1970s, she found the label for it— bisexuality— and thought “OH THERE’S A NAME FOR THIS, YAY!” and that was that.

Vaggie: when she was still alive, in 2010, a friend sent her a photo of a genderbent character from some TV show, and her first thought was “oh, okay, i see why everyone’s in love with them now. …wait.” she spent the next 20 minutes looking up female versions of characters and realizing “oh. OH THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH” (based on my own story)

Angel: honestly, he can’t really say. he just kinda knew from the beginning that men were just hot, and he’d marry a guy if he could. molly just assumed he meant “yeah, men are just better than women” and went along with it, even though she personally thought both were radiantly beautiful. (she found out what pansexual meant in 1972.)

Husk: he has no idea. if asked, he just shrugs and goes “any hole is a goal, i couldn’t care less.” at one point, Angel just shoved a poster at him, Husk read it and was like “oh. i guess that’s me.” pretty chill reaction, just continued his normal day, but kept thinking “okay, wow, that’s ME.”

Sir Pentious: he just thought all people liked both men and women, but because of societal rules and whatever, they had to wait until they had a crush on the opposite gender. ..what do you mean thats not what being straight is. (he only found out what bisexuality was after he came to the Hotel and Charlie had a bi flag pin. he asked her what country that was, and she had to sit him down to explain the concept of LGBTQ+, and no, it is ABSOLUTELY NOT a mental illness, wtf, you’re fine, buddy, go be happy.)

Alastor: post-season 1, like three people separately wished him a happy asexual awareness week and he was so confused, he asked Angel to look up ‘a sexual’ on his phone because he couldn’t find anything at the library. (he was looking at the outdated library in cannibal town.) he read the definition, and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. if anybody heard muffled screaming and somehow-happy-sounding swearing, nobody mentioned it.

Vox: pfft, what? no, he’s not gay! he’s perfectly straight! is it gay to say that men are just as good at women? …Val, what do you MEAN ‘no but yes’? (Valentino explained the entire history of LGBTQ+, stressing bisexuality. Vox just said “okay, okay, hear me out.. there’s a whole month for them, right? their whole thing is rainbows? what if we paint all of our logos rainbow-colored? they’d buy it!” Valentino gave up, because Vox just COULD NOT comprehend what he was trying to say. but he keeps sending bisexual memes to Vox.)

Valentino: he just always knew. come on, everyone’s hot, unless they aren’t. even better if they can be exploited. that’s all there is to it.

Velvette: pfft, she grew up with social media, she’s known about this shit since she was a kid. fuck love, fuck fucking, she’d rather pester Vox into making cheesy garlic bread. the guy’s a bitch, but he makes good cheesy garlic bread.

Baxter: back before he and sir pentious became bitter enemies, they were both talking about.. whatever. at one point, they got on the topic of clothing, and Baxter— then Bella— griped that he hated how dresses felt. too heavy, too annoying, and it made him feel sick, anyway. suits were just better, not just because they’re lighter. man, he wished he were a boy. pentious asked if he wanted to be a boy in general, not just for the suits, and after a moment, Baxter excused himself quickly to go find something in his library, shooing Pentious out of the house. a couple days later, he came out, transitioned, all that. the only reason he doesn’t cut off his light-lure thingy is because it’s useful. other than that, he avoids looking at it as much as possible.

[ms-oswald]

starry night | aemond targaryen

author's note: my first aemond fic to officially write - though not the first one that came to me (👀). hopefully, this will be enjoyable. spotify has the playlist from the expo. you can listen to it while reading or not. all up to you :) lots of love & stay safe 💕

      She was unbothered by the crowd, her ears soothed by the soft orchestra as its violin and cello strings swiftly danced through her headphones, the item covering the entirety of her cartilage.  

Her focus was given to the timeless masterpiece, her gaze following the road of the paintbrush as it retraced the softness of the model’s curves; from afar, she had the sight to detect the faintest of details.  

Even in-cased by thick glass where soft glare could be reflected at times, she could still depict the colors colliding with such ease from the forms of the background to the veil she wore, down to her right hand resting over her left wrist.  

She was taken by the art until a presence quietly made itself known by her side; to her left stood a tall man. He bore a pronounced jawline, platinum hair and from the corner of her eyes, she could depict a hint of lavender decorating his right iris. He was slender and held himself with his arms behind his back as he gave his attention to the painting in front of him, ignoring the commotion of the cameras and the people surrounding them.  

Removing her headset, it rested around her neck when she heard a soft grunt, a little ‘hm’. She smiled, biting the corner of her bottom lip as she dropped her head down, stifling a chortle. She then turned her head to the man as he spoke under his breath. 

“She is overrated.” His gaze hadn’t moved, his words disappearing into the collective but not to her.  

“Then why are you here?”  

Her tone wasn’t accusatory. Instead, she was indulging him almost, amused at the fact he still stood and stared at Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.  

He was taken aback by her comment, not having realized she had heard him. He turned his head to her and huffed - almost a chuckle - as the corner of his lips curved upwards. “Good point.” 

She turned her eyes back to the painting, her head slightly tilting as she searched for her words. “I find her… intriguing.” The man remained put, his one good eye reverting to the piece of art that hung a few feet away from them. “She is hiding a secret, forever kept in the back books of history.” 

He chuckled, not fully impressed by her remark. He thought it generic even though he knew, in the back of his mind, it was made to amuse him. “That is what everyone is saying.”  

The lopsided grin won him over, her eyes meeting his. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” She had quickly glanced to his injured eye, the color now a simple faded crystal blue. It didn’t bother her, and no reaction had come from her, which he silently appreciated. 

He inspected her as she, once again, looked away. She wore a wool wrapped coat that covered her down passed her knees, the belt tightened around her waist. Her hair looked almost disheveled from the knitted beanie she had removed, though her locks covered her gracefully as they rested around her while highlighting the shades of her eyes. 

He saw the headphones around her neck and smiled to himself; his own pair were held captive in his coat pocket. 

They stood for a few more minutes in silence, looking ahead at the painting.  

She was ready to move on but lingered, not wanting to part ways with the man standing next to her. 

He had grown annoyed with the crowd, desperate to leave the herd, but refrained as he was not ready to separate from her just yet. 

She picked her phone out of her pocket and looked at the time, the clock dangling above her paused playlist. She then pivoted to him, biting down her lip as she gathered courage to speak to him again. 

He noticed her changed position and peered at her, entranced by her stature. She had placed her arms behind her back, close to rocking on her toes as she quickly scanned the people around her before setting her eyes on him again. 

Inquisitive and hopeful, she held her breath. 

“This might be a bit forward, but… how do you feel about Van Gogh?” 

      It was overwhelming to say the least. 

Diving headfirst, they were transported into a new reality, surrounded by moving images, the projectors guiding them across the several rooms that inhabited Van Gogh’s life through his works of art.  

Submerged under the rays of colors, bathing under their illuminating glow, they were consumed by the sensory experience; bodies were wrapped within the various masterpieces, from the elegant portraits to the hundreds of landscapes. The duo was entranced into captivation as the musical score resonated from wall to wall, catching the essence of the paintings into its staff where the clefs kept the notes afloat with the shifts and swirls of the artist’s hopes and dreams.  

He was buried under the cascading lights, their intensity following the waves of the moving pictures. He was lost in his own amazement, in the thrill and sheer emotional rollercoaster he had embarked on; he enjoyed these works in passing, but only now could he truly understand the man’s pain.  

He turned around, his sight taking in the floating petals washed away by the wind to the waves of the oceans, to the ogling stares of portraits and voiced-out letters, until he eventually saw his companion. 

She stood a few feet away, intently staring at Van Gogh’s Self Portrait with a Pipe, when he was pulled in. 

She had been staring at it for a while, her eyes never wavering away from the man’s stare as he would blink while the smoke of his pipe danced in the air. She couldn’t tell what it was that shook her, what made her tremble to her very core, when she broke down. Silently tearing up, the old man was looking down at her as melancholy soaked his eyes, the gaze — a feathered touch of poignancy. 

Her guest was befuddled at his sight, to find her quietly crying in the dark was perplexing. He couldn’t have known the truth behind her tears, the reason her emotions strangled her through the music. The heartbreak she endured months ago, when she was forced to part ways with her fiancé due to his indiscretions — she had finally let the bourgeoning storm find her, drowning her in her impending ache. 

“Are you alright?” He approached her, worried while she remained frozen in front of the portrait.  

“Y-yes!” She had forgotten about her surroundings, his inquiry pushing her away from her trance. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what happened…” She let out a broken chuckle as she wiped the tears that strung across the corners of her eyes.  

“Was it the painting?” He was still curious, wanting to understand the circumstances of her gentle unraveling. 

She tilted her head to him, offering him a small smile. “I think the painting just brought it out of me.” 

As she spoke, the old man went away, the projectors continuing their route as they rode the audience into other works, welcoming them with more notable pieces, such as Starry Night. 

She took a deep breath, finding herself a seat on a bench and watched the stars move around them from across the four walls to the ground, right under their feet. 

The instruments’ chords brought her back to her trance, leaving only the boy in their shared reality.  

He could only stare at her, the echoes of her voice quieting down the static noise that lived in his head; all was now left unplugged, creating utter deafness.  

It was peaceful, and he felt he could finally breathe. 

He watched her in awe, the variation of blues etched across the sky where the golden stars warmed the hues; she was absorbed by the landscape as if she had been part of the picture itself.  

He was enthralled by her presence, the feelings thrumming against his heart and rekindling the spark of a dying flame, the embers laying low within the desert of ash around them. 

It had been way too long since he last felt this way.  

The heat raised his skin, shivers covering his entire body as he stuck to her, unable to partake in the rest of the exposition any longer. He had lost himself in her, taking in the way she had been immersed in the moving brushstrokes as they danced and rippled to her every footstep, her ability to appreciate the works around her, her knowledge of these renderings, the connection she had built by the simple look just enough to bring her to tears. 

All he could do was take her in, like fresh air, and admire the work of art that stood in front of him.  

      And then the lights went out, the room once again diving into the darkness until a voice was heard above their heads, reading out loud the written words that were shared between the painter and his brother. 

The young man was pulled out of his reverie and looked away from her, taking in a slow breath to calm the bombardments in his chest. 

His mind was still quiet, which he thanked.  

It had been a while since he could last hear himself think. 

But even now it seemed, his words strung nonsense. 

The woman had taken his senses captive, luring him into complete ignorant bliss, and he loved it. 

The expo, eventually over, the ending was presented with simple sentences that were etched across the walls.  

They made their way towards the exit, both parties reluctant to walk away from one another. 

She turned to look at him, catching a glimpse of his bi-colored gaze into her sight. She held her breath, enjoying the way the remaining lights captured the shades of his irises into perfect harmony.  

Afraid to end the momentum, he took the lead and stepped forward, though not too close as to invade her personal space.  

“I would like to see you again.” He spoke gently, carefully, patiently waiting for her response. His words were not a request, nor were they imposing. 

She smiled, flattered. “I’ll make room in my schedule, then.”  

Questions were not part of their relationship; they always held affirmative back-and-forth instead, knowing that inquiring was unnecessary.  

“I’m honoured.” He spoke up, cheekiness underlaid in his tone as he indulged her with his infamous smirk, the one that always made her bite the inside of her cheek to hold herself back. 

She grinned at him, dropping the playful charade they have been sharing this evening. 

“It was nice to see you again, Aemond…” She sighed, content. “It’s been too long.” 

He nodded, pensive. “It has.” 

He had missed her terribly.  

They lost touch in the last few years. She had moved away after getting engaged and started a new life on the other side of the world while he was left alone, their love for each other withering away before it had a chance to bloom, the dirt drying up without water. 

Silence hung between them, like a friend wrapping its arms around the couple’s shoulders in a joint trio. 

She then spoke again, biting her lip in thought. “I’m not really ready to go yet, and god knows I could use some air…” She let out a breath, her courage gathered on the tip of her tongue. “Do you want to go and get some coffee? We could catch up.” 

He agreed to her proposition, marching towards the door as he opened it for her, inviting her into the cool air of the city’s night. 

She smiled and graciously walked through before he followed her. 

They stepped outside meeting the dim lit stars and their moon hovering above them; the golden colours were present whereas the blue had been transformed into its reality counterpart - pure darkness wearing an essence of sublimity instead of its usual malevolence. 

Side by side, they took their time walking down the streets, his name tickling her lips into a softening smile. It was better than any orchestra, he thought, the composition of her voice alone making him feel like a spectator at his own opera show, his lost love becoming the conductor of their renewed symphony. 

The past caught up to them, taking them left and right without a real destination anymore. 

The roads were open, the warmth of their encounter illuminated under a starry night. 

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

a/n: the exposition was based on something I attended. Loved it. If you need an outing and this happens in your city, go for it. You don't have to be an art advocate, or even really know Van Gogh in depth to appreciate his work and this immersive experience. It's overwhelmingly beautiful (does that make sense?) and worth the 1-2h :)

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

Thank you again for all of those still with me, I hope you’re enjoying the story thus far. If you’re wanting to make suggestions for future parts of the story, please feel free to leave comments. I’d love to hear more about your thoughts! Last time, we were finding out how the information is given to Star, and the results show up that:

1 The mayor himself is more than happy to talk.

Sorry, this one got a bit long on me.

Having filled up, Star left Luna’s enchanting music behind to knock on the door to the Town Hall. The squat stone and wood building being only slightly better kept than the rest of the town. Instead of finding some bored bureaucratic servant barely awake at their post, she was greeted by the mayor himself.

“WELCOME! Welcome!” the portly man proclaimed as he opened the door and ushered her into the hall. “I’m Mayor Gregor, and welcome to Tricreek! I see your bard friend has drawn quite the crowd. Quite the crowd indeed. How wonderful!”

With a hearty laugh, he stroked the bushy white mustache that consumed the entire area of his face above his lips and going well into his rosy cheeks. “Now you must be curious about all the going ons about the town, I dare say.”

“Actually mayor, I was wondering if there were any messages from Castledale? Star Crescent would be the name they’d be under,” the poor mage student cut in gently, trying to be about her business.

“Oh of course, of course, pardon the mess, I gave the scribes a chance to go enjoy the bard, young people you know?” he chuckled as he meandered over to the shelves, and began going through one marked ‘Castledale’ above it. Pulling out a set of reading glasses he settled them on his nose and began going through the sheaf of papers. “Let’s see… No, no, notice of the college of magic being closed to new admissions temporarily due to the magic disruption, no, no, ah, here we are. A letter from the dean to you.”

Holding out the folded letter, she recognized the wax seal and took it. It was from the college, and probably important, however she felt like indulging the mayor. “Now that the official business is finished, I noticed that you have a druidic presence in town, were they a part of the founding?”

It felt odd, pushing off her duties and self-imposed quest to restore magic to learn more about a town that was so close to her goal, but she knew that her thirst for knowledge would not let her leave such a font of lore and wisdom untapped. Perhaps, there was something in the history that could guide her further in unlocking magic once again.

“Oh right you are! Sharp eyes on you, but that’s to be expected from a student of your caliber to be attending the university there with the dean’s attention on you,” the mayor praised her as he stood in front of the window, watching the bustling town center. “Oh it was many generations ago that the druids helped some farmers form the little village. Back then there was only a farmer’s market and town hall if you can believe it. We thrived due to trade, and the mill a ways up the road. That I suppose you might have visited, since you came in on their cart.”

Seeing her expression, he let out a laugh. “Oh don’t worry so much youngin’. It’s the way of the small town to know everything going on within minutes of it happening. Why I remember back in my day we knew that the old mayor was having a row with his wife before even he did! Real scrapper that woman, and their fights were the stuff of tales. Never could look at a cast iron pan the same again after their last one.”

“Was there a reason for their fights or…” she probed, curious about the nature of the fights..

The mayor let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “Oh, the usual, he was sleeping with her lover behind her back, and they hadn’t worked out the laws on multiple partners back then. There’s parts of the story that followed the fights I dare say would be topics of some books you’ve never read in the library.”

Not that she was going to correct him, but there was most certainly a very robust section of the library that she may or may not have had a browsing through between semesters.

“So, the druids?”

“Ah yes! The druids, wonderful folk. If you’re going to Castledale from here, you will pass one of their groves,” the mayor explained before tapping his chin in thought. “Yes… hmm…”

Turning back to the shelves, he began going through a drawer on the side, pulling out packages and looking them over before setting them back inside. “Perhaps you might do me a favor, young lady. It will only be an hour out of your way, and if you leave first thing in the morning, you’d be able to stay the night in the grove.”

Pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment, he peered through one end, reading the words before putting it back. “Forgive me, it has been a while, but we have some things to send to them, and have not had a chance to do so with the recent weather and loss of magic.”

“You said that it would be on our way?” she prompted watching him pull out a small tube and read the label on the side before putting it carefully back into the drawer.

“Yes, yes, quite right, a lovely grove, I took a trip there once myself, met my husband there if you would believe it. Ah!” he cheered, pulling out a scroll case with Celestial Grove on a tag on one end. “Here we are. My father-in-law is the head of the druidic order. Could you please take this to him. I’ll arrange for you and your bard friend to have a room at the inn tonight, and the finest meal on me.”

“Thank you sir, I’m honored to help you,” she offered, taking the scroll case from him. “Might you give us directions?”

“Certainly, certainly. It’s just up the main road out of town towards Castledale,” he began pointing in the direction they were heading. “There will be two trails to the right, and then one to the left marked with a flat stone shaped like a tree. Take that path and stay on it. The druids will find you long before you get to the grove and guide you the rest of the way.”

“Understood, thank you for the room and meal.”

“Of course! You are doing this town a great service,” he offered with a laugh before going into another story about the old days, never finishing his first one about the druids.

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[jeannereames]

In "Dancing With The Lion", you seem to say that Alexander was not handsome. But when I searched about Alexander's appearance on Google, I found that almost everywhere he was described as a handsome man. He was even called extremely handsome in a couple of articles. I have seen the copy of Alexander's bust originally made by Lysippus. It's said that Lysippus made the bust during Alexander's lifetime & Alexander looked like that. The bust doesn't look bad. Why do you then think that Alexander wasn't good looking enough? By the way, I loved the guy who seemed to represent Alexander on the cover page of "Dancing With The Lion". Alexander might very well look like that :-)

First, a comment on my description and why I made it, then some background on the history.

What Hephaistion thinks to himself is actually, “Only a flatterer would call him handsome.” He doesn’t say he’s ugly or plain. He’s just normal looking. I made that choice partly for historical reasons, but also because I wanted to humanize him. Same reason I gave him acne. 😉 I don’t see him as unattractive, I just don’t see him as especially handsome. (A link to the novels, for anybody looking, with the new covers.)

I would caution about taking seriously much that you find via a Google search. It’s kinda a dumpster fire, honestly, unless you know exactly what you’re looking for.* Always check who wrote an article. How did they learn the information they relate? That’s part of why I cite things here, even if I don’t load y’all up with citations the way I would in a scholarly article. But I want readers to be able to chase down references for themselves, even as, in our post-expert era, I also want readers to trust that I know where to look in the first place—what’s reliable.

Although it’s now 30+ years old, probably the best book on Alexander’s appearance is Andrew Stewart’s Faces of Power: Alexander’s Image and Hellenistic Politics (1993). I know it’s expensive (LOTS and lots of picture plates inside), but because it’s been out a minute, you can probably find it used, or in a library.

So, let’s look at the history. There are several things going on here:

The ancient Greeks conflated wealth, class, intelligence, and beauty with heroic status. So Achilles is beautiful but Thersites is malformed and ugly. This motif rolled over onto historical individuals, and the Greeks purposely practiced “idealizing” in their sculpture, especially of anybody presented as heroic. There’s quite a lot written on Greek idealizing, but again, beware a simple Google search; I just tried to find something useful and gave up by the time I was on page 6; the best thing was an article in the NYT, behind a paywall. I’d suggest grabbing an art history textbook, especially a specialized one, like Shiela Dillon’s.

The Alexander head on the Akropolis (which was used to find the model for the cover of Becoming) is a perfect example of Classical-era idealization. We’d call it Photoshopped. 😉 Yes, it’s recognizably Alexander, but his face is made to match the canon of Greek ephebic beauty. (The publisher liked it. ha)

Add to this the divinization of Alexander and its impact on his sculptures across time. See Stewart mentioned above for a great description of how his Successors molded his image for their own purposes. Generally speaking, his hair gets longer and flowier, his eyes get larger, and his face get softened until he looks feminized. The sculpture below, from the Capitoline Museum, is a great example. It’s Alexander as Helios (the sun god), a Roman copy of a Hellenistic original, and that original is speculatively dated to sometime in the late 200s or early 100s BCE, based on style.

We in the modern world are inclined to these same assumptions. We got it from them! I’ve noticed that most sketches (especially AI pictures) of Alexander on the internet turn him pretty. One (below, yes with 6 fingers) has him looking suspiciously like Henry Cavill! LOL

There have been some better attempts to use AI to render him, based on ancient statuary, but most use statues I’m less fond of. Yet the one that uses the Azara Herm is, I think, pretty close. I agree with Stewart that the Azara Herm is as near to a likeness as is out there; see Stewart’s discussion as to why. I believe it’s the bust you’re referring to in the ask. Below with link to Royalty Now, who made it. I want to be sure she gets credit. I bought myself a copy of this one. She did two reconstructions, but I don’t care for the other because of the statue used. Royalty Now may have airbrushed him a bit (he lacks scars, for instance—highly unlikely in a soldier), but at least in basic facial structure, it’s good. Note the long face. If a long face with sharper features is more accepted today—largely thanks to what photographs well—the Greek ideal was a rounder face, like the Akropolis head above.

So the real Alexander wasn’t an ugly man, no, but if you passed him on the street, you probably wouldn’t stop and stare. Unless he wanted you to. It was his CHARISMA that people noted, not his physical appearance.

That, I also tried to note in the novels. At one point, Aristotle remarks to himself that Hephaistion might have the looks, but Alexander would always be the one to draw eyes. 😊

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

* For instance, my educational website on Hephaistion appears pages and pages and pages down from the top on Google … even though it’s written by one of the two leading world experts on him (Sabine Müller is the other). Ergo, you have to wade through a lot of stuff put out by sites that know how to rank themselves higher before you get to the actual specialist. Once upon a time, btw, it popped up higher, but pay-to-play has changed search engines.

[qqueenofhades]

For a winter-themed prompt: our favorite time travelers and something involving piles of blankets?

"Lucy," Flynn says, with just enough bite in the growl of his voice to make it plain that this time, he really means it. "Come over here."

"Just a minute." Lucy doesn't look up from the stack of essays scattered across the kitchen table, which are making her lose the will to live the longer she beholds them, but if she doesn't finish them now, she'll have to worry about them and/or work on them over Christmas, and that sounds even worse. "I'll be right there."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago," Flynn points out, with his usual sardonic unconcern. "And twenty minutes before that. I'm sure the world won't end if Johnny Freshman doesn't officially earn his C- in the next three hours." He considers, then shrugs. "Though if we're going by the excerpts you were reading to me earlier, I think that might be generous."

"These grades were due to be submitted yesterday, and the department only gave us an extension because MyWeb crashed." Lucy's voice, by contrast, is increasingly brittle. "I don't have time to just throw that aside, even if I want to. I have to finish this first."

"Ah." Flynn regards her shrewdly. "It's your mother talking in your head again, isn't it?"

Lucy flinches. It is truly unsettling how well this man knows her -- and yes, the shrill taskmaster in her head does sound suspiciously like Professor Carol Preston, reading Lucy's own essays with red pen and making any number of helpful suggestions. But it's true that she has end-of-term responsibilities that cannot just be errantly flung aside, no matter how tempting it is to just snuggle with Flynn on the couch in front of the tree, and she looks back down at the essay. Which is a mistake, and she groans aloud. "Another AI-generated one, are you kidding me? Aren't these kids supposed to be smart?"

Flynn looks at her with a I-seriously-doubt-it expression.

"Right. Forgot who I was talking to." Lucy sighs, writes PLEASE EMAIL ME TO DISCUSS THIS on top of the page in large capital letters, and sets it aside. She's grimly reaching for the next one, hopefully not "written" by ChatGPT, when Flynn pulls out the chair next to her, sits down, and whisks the pen out of her hand. She goggles at him. "What are you -- "

"If these need to be finished," Flynn says, "I'll finish them. Go sit."

"What? You don't -- it would be against the rules for you to grade my papers, when this is my class and I'm the faculty of record -- "

At that, Lucy stops short, shakes her head, and sighs deeply. She and Flynn stare each other down, which as usual, he wins. She rubs her eyes, gets up, and leans to briefly kiss the top of his head. "Please don't fail everyone, all right?"

Flynn makes a sound as if to suggest he makes no promises, then gets to work, ripping through the papers with his usual terminator efficiency: whether altering history or grading history, there is nothing and no one that can stand before his stubbornness, and it is, if she's being honest, definitely one of the sexiest things a man has ever done for her. She pads to the couch, wraps up in the blankets, and lets her exhausted brain veg out, staring at the glowing tree, until Flynn signs off on the last one, gets to his feet, and crosses over to join her, settling on the couch with a creak. He puts his arms around her, and Lucy burrows into his chest, letting him hold her close. "Thanks," she murmurs, as he tucks the blanket around them both and pulls them into a more comfortable position. "I love you."

Flynn grins into her hair. His voice, this time, is very soft. "I know."

[440mxs-wife]

Mail Order Bride, Part 7: Family

Pairing: Sheriff!McCoy x Paige Stone (OFC). Other characters: Nyota Uhura, Deputy Jim Kirk, Eleanora McCoy, Donna McCoy. Evan, Lyla, Jacob, Tyler (Stone family OCs), Doc Anderson

Word Count: 4804

General warnings:  As the title implies, mail-order bride arrangement, parent’s illness, outlaws, overprotective sister, Wild West-level violence but some fluff as well. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

Chapter warning: Talk of pregnancy, probably still more medical inaccuracy, parent's illness, reunion with family, Leonard being just the best husband ever, fear of parental death

A/N: This is set around the 1930′s in the Western U.S. I will endeavor to remain as true to the historical timeline as I can. There may be some....bending of history to fit the narrative, but hopefully nothing major. This is, after all, a work of fiction. :) Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

As always, thank you for reading. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Where is she?? Where's my wife?" Leonard barked as he burst through the front doors of Doc Anderson's clinic. Mr. Sulu had sent word to the sheriff's office about Paige collapsing in the store, and informed him that she'd been taken to see the doctor.

Nyota appeared and rushed over to Leonard's side. "She's all right, Sheriff," she assured him with a hand on his arm. "Doc Anderson is just finishing up his examination and will be out shortly to speak to you," she promised with a knowing grin.

At that moment, Dr. Anderson entered the office and beamed a warm smile to Leonard. "Ah, Sheriff McCoy, how wonderful to see you! I was just about to send for you, but since you're already here, let's go back and have a chat with your wife, shall we? She's in Exam Room One, if you'd like to follow me," he directed, patting the sheriff on the shoulder as he passed him.

When the door opened, Paige looked up and gave her husband a tired smile. Leonard rushed to her side, instantly engulfing her small hand in his larger one. With his other hand, he brushed the hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. "I'm fine, Len," Paige murmured.

"Sweetheart, what happened? Are-are ya still sick? Any dizziness or are ya feelin' lightheaded? I-I know how you feel 'bout doctors, with your momma and all. But I think you know that Doc Anderson is the best there is in these here parts," he rambled. Paige put a finger on his lips to prevent any further spiraling and giggled when his lips twitched against her skin.

"I'm not still sick, Leonard," she paused. "However, I will probably be seeing a bit more of Doc Anderson over the next few months." He gave her a puzzled look. "What I'm trying say, very badly I might add, is that....I'm....I'm pregnant."

She peered into his eyes to gauge his reaction and watched as understanding dawned across his face. "So, when you couldn't keep anything down, then you were so tired all the time? And the weird food combinations? All of that means we're....having a baby?" he whispered. She nodded, and a couple of tears slipped from her eyes.

Leonard wrapped his arms around his wife, engulfing her in his embrace. "Oh, darlin', you've made me the happiest man alive. I'm going to be a father!" he mumbled. He pulled back a bit before leaning forward and gave her a fiery, passionate kiss. "I love you so much," he choked out.

"I love you too, Leonard. So much," she replied, throwing her arms around his neck.

Dr. Anderson smiled fondly at their interaction. Then he spent the next few minutes going over the latest obstetrical information so that both McCoys would know what to expect. With the sheriff being a first-time father, he needed to know how best to care for his wife in her condition.

He estimated that Paige was around thirteen to fifteen weeks along, thus in her second trimester. From that the doctor was able to give a ballpark estimate of her baby's due date, but cautioned them that every woman's pregnancy was different. He then explained his preferences for examinations throughout the process. On their way out, the happy couple visited with the nurse to make the next appointment, then headed home to celebrate.

***

The next few weeks were filled with Leonard showing his overprotective side to his pregnant wife and everyone else. He was determined to take the very utmost care of Paige so that nothing happened to her or their precious cargo. She was barely allowed to do much more than take care of her most basic daily needs before Leonard was stepping in to "help". Fortunately, he had a patient and forgiving wife, who allowed him to dote on her. However, when it got to a certain point, she had to put her foot down.

Paige gently explained that she understood why he was so keen on being at her side, day or night, in case she needed something. She also reminded him how she was still capable of performing most tasks around the house, and that she wasn't some delicate flower. She was accustomed to taking care of others, and didn't need or want to be waited on hand and foot. With a heavy sigh, he finally relented, if only on some things, though she agreed to let him spoil her every once in a while.

One morning, Paige was making some scrambled eggs for breakfast while Leonard was getting dressed. When he came downstairs, he paused at the kitchen doorway, admiring his wife. She was humming a tune under her breath, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and swaying her hips. She had one hand on her rounded belly when she felt a fluttering sensation. It was so unexpected that she called out as she bent forward a little, which had Leonard rushing to her side.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Any pain?" he asked worriedly.

Paige took a deep breath to steady herself, then she felt it again, like a rolling sensation in her stomach. "Feels a little funny, no pain though. Can you please turn off the stove then help me to the table? I need to sit down, except I don't want to burn breakfast," she chuckled.

"Absolutely, my love, anything you want," he replied as he slipped one arm around her waist and clasped her hand in his. He guided her to a chair and waited until she was sitting comfortably before he knelt beside her. "Do you feel okay?" he wondered.

Paige nodded as she caressed her baby bump and when it happened again, a beaming smile broke out over her face. "Leonard," she whispered, "I think the baby is kicking!" She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach, covering his hand with her own. She moved it around trying to catch the baby as it moved. "There! Did you feel it? That's our baby," she breathed.

Leonard gazed at his wife with awe and wonder. "That's....that's our baby. In there," he murmured. "This is the most amazing thing I have ever been a part of," he remarked, then took both of Paige's hands in his. "Thank you. So much, darlin' for this. For makin' me a papa." He rested his head on her belly and she tenderly ran her fingers through his hair.

"Don't forget, Leonard, you had a hand in this also. And there will be so many more wondrous moments yet to come," Paige giggled softly. "Thank you, my love. For makin' me a mama," she added. He rose up on knees to press a kiss to her lips, then returned to his previous position of his head resting on her belly.

***

Near the end of her fifth month, Paige attended a baby shower given by Nyota and held at her café. Eleanora and Donna were both in attendance, along with Deputy Kirk's girlfriend, Carol Marcus, and a few of the women from church. The ladies enjoyed cake and fruit punch, while those who already had children imparted their wisdom to the soon-to-be-mother.

After all the gifts had been opened, it was clear that Baby McCoy would have everything he or she needed to begin life. There were gifts of bottles, clothes, diapers, skin and hair products, and so much more. Eleanora had made a quilt for the baby, while Donna had sewn some receiving blankets. Nyota gifted the new baby a set of children's books, featuring tales from the Land of Oz, Winnie-the-Pooh, and The Velveteen Rabbit.

When Eleanora and Donna brought Paige home, there was one more surprise awaiting her. Leonard met his wife at the door, then asked her to close her eyes while he escorted her upstairs to what had been turned into the nursery. He guided her to the middle of the room, placed her hands on the object in front of her, and told her to open her eyes.

Paige gasped as before her was a gorgeous, hand-crafted crib made of oak. "Oh, Leonard, it's so beautiful," she whispered. "Is this what you were working on all those late nights?" He nodded in response. Despite his sometimes busy schedule as the sheriff of Boulder, Leonard found the time to provide his wife with the best gift of all for their little one.

"Do you like it?" he wondered. Paige nodded vigorously and told him it meant even more, since it was made with love and his own two hands. "I'm glad you feel that way, sugar, because....well, turn around."

Paige did as she was told, and watched as Deputy James Kirk brought in a matching wooden rocking chair. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, Jim, this is wonderful!" she exclaimed before gingerly lowering herself into the chair. She rocked back and forth a bit before sending her friend a beaming smile. "It's absolutely perfect, Jim. Thank you."

Jim bowed his head and smiled shyly at her praise. "Aw, Miz McCoy--Paige--it's the least I could do for my best friend and his wife. Little One needs a soothing way to fall asleep, and this is my contribution," he explained. The three of them stayed in the room chatting for a bit longer before rejoining Donna and Eleanora in the main part of the house for dinner.

***

Two weeks later, Leonard was sifting through the mail when he noticed a letter had arrived addressed to Paige with a Columbus, Ohio postmark. He recognized the return address, which showed it was from Jacob Stone, the second oldest of the eight Stone children. He had a feeling that if Paige's brother was writing to her, it was not likely to be good news.

Leonard wandered into the kitchen with the mail and smiled when he saw Paige standing at the sink, peeling potatoes. She was humming softly under her breath and paused in her efforts to stretch her back. In a few long strides, he was at her side and wrapped his arms around her to hold up her growing belly. His sudden contact caused her to jump a little in surprise, but Paige quickly recovered and turned to give him a welcome home kiss. "Good evening, my love. I thought you were going to be working late tonight. Is everything all right?"

He thought of the correspondence sitting on the kitchen table and hoped its contents were of a benign nature. "Yeah, sure, everything's fine, darlin'. Work just didn't take as long as I thought it would, that's all," he replied softly. "Sweetheart, why don't you take a break and come sit down for a bit, hmm? You um....you got some mail today," he added.

"I did? Okay," Paige shrugged then dried her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder. With Leonard's assistance, she eased into a chair. The envelope was face down, so she didn't immediately see the sender's information. Once she saw it was from Jacob, her hand flew to her mouth and tears prickled behind her eyelids. "It's from my brother," she whispered.

"Go ahead and open it," he gently prodded. "Only way you're gonna find out what it's all about, you know," he remarked.

Paige heaved a deep sigh and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she tore open a corner of the envelope and slid her finger along the seam to reveal the contents. Inside were four sheets of tri-folded paper with Jacob's familiar scrawl on them and she began to read.

Leonard watched as her eyes darted back and forth across the page. When he heard her sharp gasp, he quickly looked up to see her hand covering her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. He reached over to tug her hand away and engulf both of her small hands with one of his, silently begging his wife to explain. When she finally caught his gaze, a strangled sob escaped her lips, furthering the crack in his heart at her pain.

"Baby, what is it?" he implored as he gingerly squeezed her hands in support.

Paige took a few deep, calming breaths before responding. "It's my mother," she began. "Jacob said that at first, the new treatment was helping, or at least the disease wasn't progressing anymore. She started feeling better, she was getting out of the house, and was almost back to her old self again. Then something happened and it's like the medicine wasn't working anymore."

"Oh, my love," he whispered. He held his arms out and gently guided her to sit on his lap. "Is there anything that can be done, some other medication?"

She shook her head. "There was one she had tried before, but it had such horrible side effects. It had to be taken with food, but she could barely keep anything down long enough for it to have any benefit. So she stopped taking it, and we were so scared that in doing so, it wouldn't be very long before we'd lose her." Paige hastily swiped at the tears on her face and abruptly stood up from her seat, pausing until she regained her balance.

"Where are you going, darlin'?" he wondered.

She was halfway across the living room and to the stairs leading up to their room, then she turned around to face him. "I have to go back to Ohio, Leonard," she responded wearily. At his surprised expression, she held up her hand. "Only for a visit, though, I promise. Doc Anderson said I'm doing okay with Little One here, and there are doctors in Columbus in case there's an issue."

Leonard quickly left his chair and in a few long strides, he met Paige at the bottom of the stairs. He grasped her hand in his and gently tugged her around to face him. "Darlin', wait just a minute. Do you really think I'm going to let my seriously pregnant wife sit on a train for hours on end by herself?"

An unexpected flash of anger crossed Paige's face. "'Let me go'? At a time like this, do you really want to try and stop me, Leonard McCoy?" she retorted.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you're right. I'll admit, that was a bad choice of words. However, I'd feel better if someone went with you," he remarked. Her chin tilted upwards at him in defiance, and he had to fight like hell to keep from breaking out into a grin. "What if I went with you? It's the perfect time for me to meet your family, and I can be there in case something happens with your mama or the baby. Please?"

Paige's expression softened. She should've known that he didn't mean to imply that she needed his consent to go. Rather the opposite, because he was asking for permission to accompany her, for reasons that had nothing to do with him wanting to "control" her. "Okay. I would love to introduce you to my family and let them meet the most important man in my life. Can you leave, though? What about the office?"

His face broke out into a grin. "That's why I have deputies, sweetheart, to help carry the load," he replied. In fact, over the past few weeks, he and Deputy Kirk had been training a new guy, Carter Davis. He also had one that was arriving by train in a couple of days.

The other new deputy's name was Pavel Chekov, from just outside of Brooklyn, New York. He was already experienced in law enforcement and had been living there with his family until he lost them all. His parents, grandparents, and a brother, all died of influenza. With no family ties, Chekov was looking for a fresh start, which he felt he could find in Boulder.

"Then it's settled. I'll start packing in the morning, while you square things away with Jim and the other deputies at the office. Your mother and sister are coming over tomorrow with some things for the baby, so I'll let them know what's going on with my family. After that, we'll get our train tickets and head for Columbus," she explained.

"Got it all figured out, hmm?" Leonard gently teased, to which Paige nodded. He could see her eyes getting glossy from unshed tears, so he held out his arms and she ran gratefully to them. As soon as his arms wrapped around her, the dam broke. Her tears flowed and soaked his shirt, her sobs muffled against his chest. One hand stroked the back of her head in soothing motions, while his other hand rested on her back, holding her close to his body.

"I'm so scared, Len," she whispered. "I'm not ready to lose my mom yet."

"Shh, I know sweetheart and I understand you're not ready. Try focusing on her reaction when she sees you after you've been gone for so long. Especially when you get to show off what a handsome husband you have," he quipped. His casual remark brought a smile to her face and a giggle from her lips.

"I am very much looking forward to that, my love. Thank you," she replied.

"You never have to thank me, darlin' Whatever you need, I'm here for you. It breaks my heart to see you cry, and I would do anything to see you happy," he stated simply.

Paige's hand cradled her husband's cheek, her thumb caressing it as she gazed into his eyes. "I love you so much, Leonard," she affirmed before capturing his lips with her own in a sweet, lingering kiss. They both climbed the stairs to their room to get ready for bed. There was a lot to be done in the next couple of days to get ready for a trip out East. Leonard and Paige knew they would need every minute of rest they could get to prepare for the long journey.

***

Over the next couple of days, Paige did her best to get herself and Leonard packed for their upcoming journey. Eleanora, Donna, and Nyota each took turns ensuring that the couple had enough clean clothes for their travels. Paige pointed out which dresses still fit her well enough to be included and explained which of Leonard's clothes should be added to the trunk.

As they worked, Paige shared what information she had about her mother's condition. She explained that it was a pulmonary disease, one that severely affected her breathing. There were times where she remembered her mother being in the hospital for several days as a result. Thanks to the mail-order-bride arrangement, the money went directly to medical supplies for her mother. The influx of cash had helped keep her hospital stays to a minimum.

Because she was the oldest, Paige had no choice but to assume the duties of caring for her siblings during those times. She didn't regret it at all; it was what the family needed her to do, so she did it. "Besides, it prepared me for being able to take care of a husband, though Leonard and I mostly share the household duties. He made it clear from the beginning that we were a partnership, not one of us 'serving' the other." Eleanora beamed at her daughter-in-law's comment, knowing she'd raised her son with the correct mindset on how a marriage works.

***

Four days and a couple of train changes later, Paige and Leonard arrived at the Columbus, Ohio train station. As before when she arrived in Boulder, their luggage was offloaded and placed on the platform. Leonard assisted his wife down the steps and off the train, then directed her to stand with their belongings.

While she waited for her husband, Paige scanned the area, trying to catch a glimpse of a family member who would've been sent to collect them. If they were kept waiting too much longer, she figured they would need to hire a taxi to take them to her parents' house. Paige checked her watch pendant, a gift from Leonard upon learning he would be a father. Not too late, she thought. Someone should be showing up for us soon.

Her stomach began to feel fluttery, and she wasn't sure if it was from the baby or if she was nervous about seeing her family again. Although she'd been gone from home for less than a year, the time had passed rather quickly and so much had happened in her life. She went from being a mail-order bride with a dead mail-order husband, to marrying the Sheriff of Boulder. Now she was going to be a mama, and she was afraid of losing hers.

"Paige?!?" a voice broke through her thoughts.

She whirled around to find a sandy-haired young man, who couldn't have been much older than twenty. "Jacob?? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, who'd ya think?" he shot back, his eyes widening when he noticed her change in appearance. "Whoa, sis!! What happened to you? Did you get stung by a bee or something?" he snickered.

Paige glared at her brother, one hand on her hip and the other on her protruding stomach. "Ha, ha, very funny. Come here, you troublemaker," she grinned and pulled her brother into a hug.

"So where's your husband, or did you come out here all by your lonesome?" Jacob asked, stepping back from his sister's embrace.

At that moment, a strong pair of arms encircled Paige from behind, while a bearded face nuzzled the back of her neck, causing her to giggle. "Len, you know how that tickles!" she exclaimed. "Jacob, I'd like you to meet my husband, Leonard McCoy."

Leonard reached out his hand and was treated to a firm handshake from his brother-in-law. "Great to finally meet you, Jacob. Paige has told me quite a few stories about you and the rest of your siblings. Nice to put a face to a name," he remarked.

"Oh, hey, wow, good to meet you as well, Leonard," Jacob returned. "Wait a minute, I thought you were supposed to be marrying someone named Matthews?" At his sister's puzzled expression, he revealed that he had seen the original paperwork for the agreement.

"Ah, so then you know about that. It's a long story, one that I'd rather explain only once, if you don't mind," Paige muttered. "How's Mama doing?" she asked tentatively.

Jacob took a deep breath. "When I left, Papa was helping her with a breathing treatment. She's doing all right, today is one of her better days. She will be so happy to see you, Sis. We've all missed you," he added. "Do they know you're coming?"

Paige shook her head. "That's why we sent the telegram to your boss. You're the only one we told because we wanted it to be a surprise."

Jacob snorted. "Well, you certainly accomplished that, Sissy! Not only are you here, but with your husband and now a baby!"

"Then why don't we get our things and head for the house?" she suggested. "And let's be honest, Jacob. It's not me you missed, it was my pancakes in the morning."

At her teasing remark, Jacob laughed and Leonard joined in. "She does make the best pancakes, I will admit. I haven't quite been able to determine what she does to the batter to make them taste so good. Fortunately, I've got a lifetime to figure it out," Leonard reasoned, then pressed a kiss to Paige's temple. Jacob rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the public show of affection, as he chuckled and shook his head on the way to the car.

***

Some time later, they had arrived at a 4-bedroom two-story home in Grove City, a suburb of Columbus. Jacob pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition, then turned to his sister with a grin and said, "Well, here we are. Home sweet home."

Leonard exited the back seat and opened Paige's door then held out his hand to help her out of the car. She placed her hand in his, while his other hand grasped her elbow to make sure she didn't fall. When both feet were back on the ground, she tilted her head to give her husband a soft smile.

The three of them walked up the path and into the house, which was bustling with activity. Jacob entered first, and as soon as he crossed the threshold, all noise stopped to see who was at the door. Tyler was the first to speak. "And just where have you been? Running around town with your fr--" he paused when he recognized the woman behind his brother. "Paige?" he whispered.

Paige had walked in after Jacob, trying to hide behind him to add to the surprise element in her visit. When Tyler noted her presence and called her name, she stepped out from behind her eldest brother. She faced them with a beaming smile on her face and one of Leonard's hands on her shoulder and the other at her waist. "Surprise," she remarked simply.

>>>

Evan Stone was in the master bedroom with his wife, Lyla, holding her hand while he administered a breathing treatment with a nebulizer. One moment, their children were fairly quiet, with occasional outbursts during the course of their playing. The next was near pandemonium with screeches of excitement and some crying. "What are those kids up to now?" he muttered. "I told them to keep the noise down because you were going to try and rest."

Lyla placed a hand on her husband's forearm and gave him a weary smile. "It's all right, they're kids. Making noise is in their nature," she chuckled softly.

"I'm going to go down there and see what's going on, but I won't be long. Will you be okay for a little bit?" he wondered.

She managed to take a couple of deep breaths without dissolving into a coughing fit, which was a good sign. She waved her hand as a signal for her husband to check on the kids and that she would be fine on her own. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, gave her hand a loving squeeze, and headed down the stairs.

>>>

As Evan descended to the main level of his home, the noise level grew until it was nearly unbearable. When his feet reached the last step, he could see them all gathered around a figure standing at the front door. "All right, what's going on here? I thought I told you all to--" he broke off as the crowd around the door dispersed.

Paige nervously moved closer to Leonard, whose instinctively wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder. Her hands twisted in front of her, as she didn't quite know what to do with them. Evan's eyes scanned his daughter from head to toe, his eyes widening and mouth popping open at her current condition. He slowly walked over to her, a smile growing on his face with every step he took.

When he had finally reached her position, he took her hands in his to calm her fidgeting. One hand reached up to gently cradle her cheek as if he needed confirmation that she was really standing before him. Sensing his unspoken question, Paige nodded to indicate that it wasn't a dream, that she truly was standing in her childhood home after being gone for nearly a year. "Hello, Papa," she murmured.

Evan responded by pulling Paige into his embrace, letting out a strangled sob as he finally held his daughter. "You're here," he whispered. "Just look at you. My daughter, a married woman, and about to be a mother." His eyes left Paige's face long enough to register the man standing behind her. "Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? My name is Evan Stone, and you must be Paige's husband. It's so good to meet you," he rambled, shaking hands with Leonard.

"Papa, this is my husband, Leonard McCoy," she explained. Before he could comment on this fact, she held up her hand. "It's a long story, and as I told Jacob, I'd rather only tell it once. Where's Mama?"

Evan grinned as he held Paige's hand to guide her up the stairs, while Leonard assisted with a hand on his wife's back. "Better let me go first, make sure she isn't asleep," he remarked when they had reached the master bedroom. A moment later, Evan opened the door, smiling to reassure his daughter and son-in-law. "Come on in, kids," he whispered.

Paige wasn't quite sure what to expect when she saw her mother and what the illness had done to her. Lyla was propped up on pillows in more of a sitting position, and Evan sat next to her on his side of the bed. She appeared smaller than Paige remembered, but there was still an undeniable look of determination and strength in her eyes.

Leonard took his wife's hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, giving them a gentle squeeze of reassurance. She turned to face him and when she saw the absolute adoration in his eyes, a smile crept across her lips. She clasped his hand and led him over to stand at the foot of her parents' bed. "Hello, Mama."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@marvelouslytrekking​ @writercole​ @spacedancer1701​ @anna-phora​ @hlabounty96 @darkestfireee​​  @rooweighton​​  @phoenixisred @xspacedemonx

[astraldrake]

tfs thoughts beneath the readmore note: contains spoilers for the entire campaign

the opening vision we get when we enter the traveler... i ended up watching it multiple times (computer issues ;-;) but MAN was it cool the inside of the traveler in general looks super funky, im going to have to do a no hud run at some point just for screenshots. shoutout to bungie for giving us a sparkly pink rainbow subclass, just in time for pride month lol weapon unsunsetting means i get to pull all sorts of old friends out of the vault. (python, the vow, steelfeather repeater, perfect paradox, etc...) i'm pretty ambivalent abt cayde generally but they did a good job w/ his characterization. i was worried he'd end up being kind of grating but so far he's been okay i was (initially) delighted to see targe. i was not anticipating that they were introducing him just so they could kill him off 5 minutes later. i have mixed feelings on zavala's characterization but it's been a minute since i buried my face into the ishtar collective lore vault so maybe it's just my memory being unreliable. for him to just lose it and start acting irrationally like that felt odd. maybe it's bcs we havent seen him in a while? idk it just felt off. (tbf you could point out that it's probably a byproduct of being forced to relive one of the most unpleasant moments of his entire life so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ fear and desperation can make people do strange things) ikora was cool, idk she didn't read as ooc or anything to me, her reunion with cayde was very sweet, though in hindsight i wish they'd given her a little more to do. seasonal stuff has struggled to give consistency to crow but i appreciate this expansion's efforts to tie up some of those threads more neatly. (i lost it when he pulled out an iron battleaxe, i did not expect that plot point to get touched on!! also it was cool!) i am still irritated that they fridged amanda ( i ignored that part of canon so hard it kinda smacked me in the face when they mentioned her.) i love luzaku, and i would kill for luzaku. ( finally! friendly hive!) i did like the emphasis on ghost and guardian relationships throughout the expansion's story. (also ghost as the location vendor!!!! having regular chats with him while we go through the story!!! the fact he becomes increasingly damaged and wounded throughout the campaign giving me the distinct dread that he might die!!!)

the fact the traveler is letting out intermittent shrieks of pain... MAN... the return of the glowing bird as our guide! (also the fact that the grenade projectile for song of flame looks like a bird... i dont think they're actually connected but it is giving me Ideas.) speaking of song of flame, i kind of expected it to be more underwhelming than it is?? it's actually pretty fun! prismatic is a lot of fun to mess around with! nothing like throwing a storm grenade at an enemy to simultaneously proc devour and amplify. the speaker mask exotic is also giving me Ideas >:) i lost my shit when they mentioned Micah-10. she's one of the last lore characters i expected them to pull out of the hat but i am delighted to see her in game, and seemingly as more than just a cameo too, as far as i can tell. pretty ambivalent abt the whole "player character is the most powertful being in the universe and the chosen one" thing. it's kinda where i figured they'd take it and i dont hate the trope so eh whatever. im glad they actually gave me cover for some of these story missions. i did not super enjoy lightfall's strategy of throwing me in a room with one million guys and a few tiny scraps of cover. ( the radial mast double tank fight... *shudders* ) difficulty wise legendary wasn't all that painful, there were a few fights i struggled with, but a change of loadout, or a little trial and error was pretty much all i needed. i def understand why they've saved the witness fight for the raid, but if my raiding history is anything to got by im certainly not doing day one, but that doesn't mean ill never touch it. (ive missed most of the newer raids, im just not that much of a people person.) ill try and take some day 1 screenshots of the opening area at least. also wrt post campaign!! i loved playing projectile tennis with savathun. all the two queens stuff was great tbh sav is such a fun villian. like yes!! you do owe us nothing and are only going to swoop in to help us bcs we have a bigger threat to deal with!! we can go back to trying to outscheme eachother once this is over!! ( also hey, they brought back adventures! i thought they'd never do that!) also what ive played of the crode camping trip (i forgot the mission name) has been fun. just me and the bois, out exploding screebs. ( then the game crashed so i guess i gotta go play that again lmao) overall i think this expansion is pretty good! i havent even gotten to the seasonal stuff yet, much less some of the regular patrol stuff for the pale heart.

[nunlucky-novel]

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

October 25th - Madison Hills, Main St

The telltale arrival of Halloween rode into Madison Hills on the scent of amber and cinnamon, black candles in windowsills, and intricately carved pumpkins by storefronts. BèBè always loved the sound of crunching leaves under her boots this time of year on her walk to the Temple, warmed by the festive buzz about the town despite the autumn chill.

The Western Temple of Collybus ran through her family history like an arrow- straight back to the very founding roots of Madison Hills. It had such a subtle elegance, her temple, her sanctuary, directly facing the town hall’s more ornate front like two siblings with a cobblestone well between them.

The town itself was built as a safe haven from the ancient war between demons and angels- as well as their followers. Steadily, over the years, it shifted from a symbol of resistance to a bustling oddity of tourist fame. But, it put food on the table, so ever-pragmatic, BèBè couldn’t much complain.

It wasn’t until BèBè arrived at her favorite coffee shop just before the temple, hoping to pick up morning treats for herself and her two lifelong friends and fellow Lux, Lolo and Amber, that the most garishly dressed man she had ever seen disrupted the peace of her morning, dressed in furs and gold, and attempting to overpay for a latte by a startling amount.

‘Oh God...’ BèBè groaned internally ‘Not him.’

“Sir, I don’t have change for $300!” the poor barista cried. They had been fighting with this man for several minutes now. “I don’t even have change for $100! We just opened! Don’t you have a card or something?”

The man huffed, frustrated. “Jeez Louise, you people need to do better with your money management!”

BèBè scoffed. The one man she didn’t want to see. Koda Dorado, the Mayor’s very strange and annoying (at least to her) adult nephew. He had no idea how the normal world worked. While he didn’t exactly flaunt his wealth in your face, he would remind you that the gap was there. Rumor has it that he was actually quite generous with his money! Almost to the point where people were concerned that he’d be taken advantage of.

But that’s not reason BèBè disliked him. It was annoying attempts to get her attention. All summer long Koda had been, in her opinion, bothering her. Trying to shower her with gifts, or requesting her to take his confessions as an attempt to strike up a conversation. It started out simple with him just visiting the Temple for service on Sundays or him offering to buy her a small coffee. It was cute at first, then he started to become somewhat overbearing. She tried to let him off gently, saying that while she appreciates all that he’s given her, he’s going overboard. That did get him to back off, but not completely.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in dating, it’s just not what she’s focused on right now. He did stop trying to buy her attention, but he would still come by the Temple for confessions. Her friends said he was trying to wear her down, but she wasn’t going to let him.

After what seemed like an eternity , BèBè finally stepped up to the register and offered her card to the cashier. “I’ll pay for the drink, Marte. And could you get me the usual? Thank you.” She said waving her card over the card reader. BèBè gave a side eyed glance at the other. “Isn’t it a bit too early to be causing trouble, Mr. Dorado?”

“Dollface~!” Koda exclaimed. He immediately perked up, completely forgetting about his order now that his favorite person was in front of him. “I ain’t causing no trouble! Not my fault these guys don’t know how to make change!”

Marte the barista glared at Koda but said nothing. They went about fixing BèBè’s order while silently cursing Koda.

“Well this isn’t like the coffee shops in St. Fortuna where they have money to break $300 first thing upon opening.” BèBè said. She sidestepped past Koda towards the other side of the counter. He followed behind her. He leaned against the counter, trying to look cool in front of her. She thought he looked uncomfortable leaning on that short counter.

“So, uh, where ya heading this early in the morning, hm?” Koda asked.

“You should know since you’ve been stalking me since June.” BèBè said sarcastically. Koda put on a offended expression, placing a hand over his chest as if he just heard the most shocking piece of gossip.

“Stalking? Me? Oh I’m hurt, Dollface.” Koda said, wiping away a non existent tear. “Just hurt, boo-hoo!”

It wasn’t untrue. His previous behavior could be categorized as stalking. Knowing her schedule, her daily route to work, the excessive gift giving. He had no idea why that would get this girl’s attention. He’s lucky he didn’t get a restraining order! That would have definitely put a pin in his plans. Lucky for him, BèBè was nice enough to give him another chance. A fresh start as he put it. This was much more work Koda had ever done to catch anyone’s attention.

Marte the barista walked to the end of the counter and set down four drinks along with a medium sized brown with the shops logo printed on it. The scent of something sweet wafted through the air.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but here are your orders.” Marte said, not sorry at all “A pumpkin spiced latte with whipped cream and extra espresso and pumpkin sprinkles. And two blonde lattes and one decaf caramel macchiato along with three breakfast sandwiches. Thank you and come again.”

BèBè grabbed her drinks, and the bag then strode past Koda without so much as a goodbye. She knew this was rude, but she needed to get to work. She would mind her manners next time. It took the other a moment to realize that he had just been snubbed. He turned around frantically as he tried to catch up with her.

“Hey wait up, Dollface!” he called out. He quickly went back for the coffee he left behind unaware that the lid wasn’t secure. He spilled some of the drink on the counter in his frenzy.

Koda chased after her, running into the door. His head bounced off the glass making the little jingle bells that hung above rattle like maracas. Some of his drink splashed on his gaudy fur coat, but it seemed to magically drip off without so much as leaving a stain. He ignored all this however as he jogged up to BèBè. She was very fast despite all the things she was carrying.

“Hey, Doll, let me help you with that! It’s the least I could do since you bought me breakfast.” Koda said. He reached out to take one of the items. BèBè refuse as she could carry it just fine. She’s done this since high school. But it was nice of him to offer.

“No thank you.” She said “Its not that heavy.”

“Well at least let me give you a ride?”

“But we’re already here.”

Koda looked up. They had arrived at the front entrance of the Temple. He looked between it and the coffee shop, surprised at how close they actually were. Then again this town wasn’t very big to begin with, so he didn’t know why he was surprised. It was weathered brick building that had been around since at least the early 1910s. The windows had iron bars over them, keeping out intruders. The building was simple, and much smaller than the giant glass monstrosity that was the Eastern Temple of Collybus in St. Fortuna.

The building next to it, the old Town Hall, stood next to it’s twin fully decorated in spooky bats, pumpkins and such. The Temple had a few pumpkins near the big stain glass doors at the entrance, but was devoid of any Halloween whimsy.

“Can you get the door please?” BèBè asked, tilting her head towards it. She let out a small sigh a second later. “If you are here to confess then please wait in the lobby. Please do not touch anything or sneak around, ok?”

“Whatever you say, Dollface! I’ll be the perfect little gentleman~!” Koda grabbed the old brass handle, and pressed down in the little switch to unlock the door. He ignored the stinging sensation he felt as he held the knob. The holy power surrounding the building was strong. Strong enough that he could feel it through his human disguise.

“Ladies first!” Koda said with his best movie star smile. He did a gentlemanly bow. BèBè rolled her eyes and stepped in. Koda merrily skipped behind her.

★★★★★★

“So I saw you walking around with your little boyfriend this morning.”

“He is not my boyfriend! Stop saying that!”

BèBè glared at her friend as she giggled to herself. Her eyes narrowed angrily in her direction while the other looked away with faux innocence. It was late into the afternoon, and BèBè was already irritated. Koda had made his 45th? Maybe 46th confession? She wasn’t sure, but she knew he had been there enough times for her to count on both hands and then some. BèBè huffed as she ungracefully flopped in the wore leather chair in her father’s office. It was a decent sized room, filled with cardboard boxes full of old papers, photos, with a big oak desk that has seen better days. The computer was the only modern thing inside the room.

A woman, tall with tan skin, green eyes and blonde hair pulled into a braided bun, leaned over against the desk. She was grinning mischievously as she watched her friend type away on the computer in front of her. BèBè ignored her, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. She was busy going through today’s schedule. It wasn’t a very busy one but occasionally the Temple would host short tours around the grounds. It wasn’t a big place, but people liked taking pictures in front of the decorative statues near the altars. There was also an old graveyard a few feet behind both the Temple and Town Hall.

BèBè skimmed through the scheduling app. There was a meeting later that evening, and a retirement party for the financial advisor on Saturday. Nothing else was booked for the week, which offered some relief. Noe she could just focus on preparing for the retirement party. “Lolo, did you order the banner yet? Brother Franklin’s party is coming up soon. Bastian took care of food, and drinks. So we just need to get the daycare cleaned out, and..”

The blonde woman, Lolo, pouted, “You can’t ignore him forever, you know. Sooner or later, he’s gonna wear you down.”

“Never! I told him that I’m not interested right now.”

“And yet you gave him another chance!”

“I believe in second chances. Besides I think he’s more of an idiot than a murderous stalker.”

Lolo pulled out a foldable chair from the corner and sat it in front of the desk. She twirled a loose braid between her fingers. The silence between them was broken with the clicks and clacks of the mouse and keyboard. “I think you should give him a chance! I mean, he seems like a good guy! Not to mention that he's the Mayor’s nephew so that’s an advantage! Oh! Maybe we could hire him to replace Brother Franklin!”

BèBè let out an airy laugh. Koda? The financial advisor? Just this morning he tried to pay for a $2 coffee with $300 dollars cash! Just from that alone she felt that he could run her family’s legacy into the ground within days of employment. Maybe in seconds! No, he wasn’t suited to do financial work. Never.

“Father already said he has someone in mind so I’m letting him handle it. We just need to handle the party planning. By the way, where’s Amber?”

Lolo’s expression soured a bit. Amber, the third member of BèBè’s friend group, was always off somewhere or worse, running late for work. Both ladies loved her very much, but neither could deny that she wasn’t really suited to be working at the Temple. It was a miracle of the Goddess that she barely graduated high school.

“I saw her trying to flirt with Koda before he left. I don’t know where she went after that.” Lolo scoffed. She pretended to examine her nails. Her sparkly fuchsia nail polish was chipping and her manicure was ruined from her picking the nails into uneven ridges. She peeked out the corner of her eye watching her reaction.

Anger flashed across BèBè’s face. She was always short tempered. Even back in high school, when an angry outburst got her banned from the varsity tennis team for two months. Poor dude need stitches. Now, even as an adult with a temper having been cooled with maturity, you could see that she was close to exploding. Amber had been ditching her job, the job BèBè painstakingly fought for her to do who knows what. It gave her a headache.

“I wouldn’t put it past her if she went to go see Koda. He’s always hanging around Main Street or at the Countryside Club.” Lolo said, leaning back in the chair. “When is she gonna get the hint that he’s taken?”

“Lolo, I don’t want to talk about them right now. Please just help me plan this damn party.”

———-

Prologue -— > Chapter 2

[skoulsons]

Triage Analysis part 2

First part is here since I pick up right where i left off :)

Again, if I repeat smth, i apologize since I wrote this very out of order

“Yeah, I reckon you do.”

“So, time heals all wounds, I guess.”

He does know she knows. Surface level, he knows she does. But, personally, I think he wants to hold her (maybe im projecting a smidge, maybe not shh). To tell it to her over and over and repeat it until his throat runs dry. So she really knows. So she feels how much he wants her to know. To feel how much he loves her. How much he cares and wants to carry it all for her. How he wishes she’d just tell him so he can do more than attempt to cheer her up during the day. He can’t solve it, of course not, but to be of more use. To be able to do something more for her. To give every ounce of what he has to her.

“So, time heals all wounds I guess.” Personally, just based on the time I’ve spent on the analysis, that is how I see it. He has opened up to her about this part of him. The same Joel Miller who told her “we keep our histories to ourselves,” is the same Joel Miller sitting here beside her telling a big part of his history. She mentions time. That time is what has allowed him to open up to her. That time has healed enough to talk openly about Sarah, or openly at all. That time is what has made him smile more. She doesn’t view herself as that important to Joel. She loves him (will cover in their roof analysis but who knows when that’ll happen), but she does not think that he loves her the same. She downplays her importance to him. She doesn’t believe she’s played any role in healing him. She doesn’t think he looks at her and sees the person he loves most in his life like how she looks at him. But we, as viewers, know that is so far from the truth. I mean, ten minutes prior to the giraffes? During the giraffes? I know that man's face was sore watching her smile and giggle. I thought he was gonna pass out from smiling as big as he was. But Ellie doesn’t see those types of looks. She doesn’t see him stay up all night to watch over her. She does underestimate what she is to him. Who she is to him.

He, again, does not look at her for a moment. He knows it was her and not time, and very accurate to their relationship, finds a way to beat around the bush of ‘being direct with your words’ when it comes to their more heartfelt and emotional conversations. He fidgets with his mouth again, showing his anxiety in what he’s about to see and the hope that she understands the weight of just how heavy and meaningful it is.

“It wasn’t time that did it.”

My! Funeral! IT’S SO PROFOUND. This is EXACTLY like their porch conversation. Okay, maybe not exactly for obvious reasons, but it’s very similar. I mean that in the similarity of, “If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again.” In an anon ask earlier, I (and that anon) mentioned how the first game and their game relationship in general is more work-based love as opposed to a more spoken or verbal love, which is more the theme of the show. But that line in tlou2 is very much a spoken “I love you,” from Joel, much like Future Days also was. But for this line to happen in season 1 and it being so similar to tlou2 game Joel and how he says “I love you” to her struck me as being comparable.

I mentioned how Ellie has downplayed her importance to Joel. She does not hold an understanding of what she means to him like what he means to her. She believes he cares, sure, but she doesn’t know exactly the weight of what they are. What she is to him. Who she is to him, and how that someone, that family, that daughter, the role in his life that has been left barren for the past twenty years is now sealed again with her.

He has been fidgeting this whole scene. Fidgeting with his feet, hands, biting his cheek/lips and messing with his jaw. It’s the anxiety and being open and vulnerable. But the second he says this, he’s still. He doesn’t move or fidget in the slightest because he is so sure of what he’s just told her. There’s no room for anxiety because he doesn’t feel anxious saying it. There are no nerves attached to it. He has believed it for so long and so strongly that, once it’s out there, there is no fear. He is so sure of it.

The way he looks at her. The tears in his eyes. Sure, he’s been thinking about Sarah, her death, his attempt, his feelings back then, all of that. But those tears are not for that. He’s crying over her. He’s crying because of what they’ve become. That he’s looking at his saving grace. The little girl who gave him something to fight for. How that barren part of his heart has been filled with her presence. Her killer smile he’s grown to love so much. Her laughing that brought him out of a panic attack. The little girl who made him giggle like a little kid until they fell asleep. This little girl whose hands are so tiny compared to his and who fits into his side like she was built for it. How her puns annoyed him at first and borderline uncomfortable, what he then ends up encouraging and even rating them with her.

And instead of an “I love you,” which, truth be told, they really don’t need, he tells her she’s the object of his healing. She’s the reason. After twenty years of endless trauma and baggage and violence, she is what’s healed him. She’s healed the cracked fatherhood in him. It is…so incredibly loud. To look at her this way. To agree with her that he has been healed, is healing, and she’s the reason. She is the reason. She is his reason. He is looking at the little girl who saved his life. His face, everything about it, is full of love and the realization of who she now is and what she’s done for him, and he could not be more grateful for her.

Another anon in my box the other day mentioned that, in the episode 5 podcast, Craig and Neil say that Joel has this thought of, “this is going to be me and her” when he looks at Henry and Sam’s grave. And, as anon said, this hits much harder knowing his past now. She would die and he would not be able to handle that again. He wouldn’t miss, would not hesitate, and would not flinch. Why flinch? He just lost the light of his life for the second time. Losing her once and then hanging on by half a thread of twenty years until you find her again only to lose her soon after would be too much for him. That grief would consume him for all but two minutes until he did it again, not flinching this time.

And she realizes it now. As much as he means to her, she means the same to him. You are what healed me. To know that she is the reason for the biggest change in him as a man. That she, just as she is, has let her light shine on the Joel Before that has been buried so deep. That that man is brought to life again because of her.

To quote Craig or Neil from The Last of Us podcast: “But never did it occur to her what she meant to him. It was always, ‘What do you mean to me?’ And when a child hears something like that, it is overwhelming to them. And you can see her struggling to process it.”

I think that she does struggle to process it, but I think she also understands what he’s just said. She hears his “I love you” and she settles on it. She accepts it. She accepts that she means way more to him than she ever believed she did. She accepts her importance to him. That she has shone light on him. The reason he is changing is because of her.

She accepts her position in his life now. As family, but more importantly as his daughter. She has never been a daughter. Marlene was not a parent to her and she never knew her mother. She’s never even had any idea as to ‘what’ a father is or what he should even be like. It wouldn’t have been a big concern for her, either. But then this man comes in and he just can’t help himself but protect, provide for, care for, and look after, even though she was just a job. Then, through their time together, that’s what they become. Joel associating Ellie as his daughter earlier than she would’ve viewed him as an ‘actual’ father considering her view on exactly what that is may be a little skewed having never had one, but I think this is what does her in. To hear this man tell her just a fraction of what she means to him. Her eyes go wide for a second when she realizes, and she inhales and exhales, letting the words settle and take root in her heart. She accepts it completely, right then and there. And she tells him it back without words, until she does.

Even after she looks away, he watches because…well he loves her. And you see him swallow the lump in his throat. The type of lump where you’re very emotional and trying to keep from crying and it just builds and builds until it’s burning in your throat and you have to force it down.

And I just. I want to eat a bin full of cotton balls. I want to swallow fiberglass and bite my fingers off like carrots. Waterboard me. Pepper spray me. Bury me alive so I suffocate alone and under six feet of dirt. I’m in agony.

“Well, I’m glad that…that didn’t work out.”

I believe her “I’ll follow you anywhere you go,” is as much of an “I love you” as this is. She wouldn’t have him if he succeeded. They wouldn’t know each other, she would’ve never known or had a father like him, and she wouldn’t have felt as loved as cherished or love and cherish someone else nearly as much. There is so much they would’ve missed out on if he succeeded. And she, as good of an emotional communicator that he is, tells him she’s glad it didn’t work out. She is glad he’s alive and that what they’ve gone through has brought them together in this way. With them, you know, having trouble communicating their feelings and emotions with each other, I think that’s why she hesitates after her first “that”. She doesn’t want to be blatant (because they don’t really do blatant and in your face) and say, “Well, I’m glad you’re here and alive,” because that’s a little too feely, so she changes it to the action not working out and, while understood, his life. But he knows exactly what she’s saying.

“Me too.”

He has…an appreciation for being alive now; and it’s because of her. He has gained a reason for living, breathing, and protecting, and she is it. And he is as glad as she is that he didn’t succeed. That he did flinch. His head turned or his hand shook too bad. His prolific “no’s” and his trembling hands, cursing himself and crying for missing but failing at the courage to try again; to being thankful and crying BECAUSE he missed. Twenty years later, he’s glad he flinched.

And he wipes his tears away as she watches him, similar to episode 4 after he apologized and she used her sleeves to wipe away her tears (except he looked away lmao ep9 Ellie doesn’t care about privacy). He has never been like this with her before, so to see him CRY OVER HER and to wipe those tears away really shows her the love he has for her. She never saw the way he cried to Tommy nearly begged him to take her because he loves her too much and was too afraid he’d get her killed. I mentioned her settling on that love and understanding it, and a part of me believes she does, but to watch him cry OVER HER is, like from the podcast, an overwhelming thing. She means so much to this man, her father, and she doesn’t really know what to do or if she should comfort him or reassure him. I mean, if my dad did something like this, I also think I’d feel awkward about receiving something as profound as that.

“We should probably get going.”

“Yeah.”

She gives him a moment to wipe those tears and lets them have a moment of silence before changing the subject with how uncomfortable the air is getting with how open they just were with each other. She brings them back to what their goal at hand, lightening the mood slightly and Joel immediately grabs his rifle to stand, but Ellie stays for a moment, watching him go to sling the rifle over his shoulder. With everything that was just talked about and revealed and the very obvious confirmed love between the two of them now, she watches him. From slamming her into a wall and threatening her life, calling him an asshole, her being blamed for Tess’ death, their Jackson argument, and anything in between, they’re here. They’re here, bonded and secured fully as father and daughter, as each other’s best friend, and help any motherfuckers who stand in the way of that.

[kiss-my-freckle]

I'm gonna put a nail in the Joe Goldberg debate. It'll take a little bit, so just follow along to my recent Twitter thread.

One of the things I love about the night Damon and Elena first met, is the difference between him and Stefan as it relates to their scene in 1x22. This is where Stefan tells Damon that Elena's relationship with Jeremy is none of his business.

Stefan: Elena's relationship with her brother is none of your business. So stay out of it! Damon: Oh, there's only one "do-gooder" role available. My bad.

Mind you, it's not Stefan's place to say as much. One of multiple scenes where Stefan speaks for others even though they're quite capable of speaking for themselves.

This is Damon respecting Elena's relationship with Matt on the night they first met. Respect he gave even though he didn't have to because Elena invited him into her business.

Elena: Got into a fight with my boyfriend. Damon: About what? May I ask.

Mind you, she's getting the same advice from Damon that she's getting from Bonnie and her mother. She knows what she wants, period.

At the same time, Stefan digs into Elena's family history. Literally dives into her business without invitation or consent.

Stefan: It didn't make any sense to me. You were a Gilbert. She was a Pierce. But the resemblance was too similar. And then I learned the truth. You were adopted, Elena. Elena: How do you know all this? Stefan: Your birth certificate from the city records. It says Elena Gilbert, Mystic Falls General. But there's no record of your mother ever being admitted. There's no record of her ever being pregnant.

Season 5 only shows how ridiculous it is for Stefan to have no idea that Elena wasn't Katherine.

Stefan: When I pulled you out, I looked at your face. You looked like Katherine. I couldn't believe the resemblance. After that, I spent months making sure that you weren't her. I watched you. I learned everything that I could about you. And I saw that you were nothing like Katherine. 

Ridiculous it is that it took four months for him to figure this out. He knew the moment he saved her on the bridge.

You mean to tell me that Stefan believed a man would actually beg him to save Katherine first.

That a vampire Katherine who'd simply die, wake up, smash out the rear window and save herself would actually need someone like Stefan to save her? lol

As if a vampire like Katherine couldn't do this to a car door.

Or this lol

They didn't just drown Stefan in season 5. They drowned Katherine when they put her in that safe with him, which then completely obliterated what he claimed in 1x11.

Had that safe been made of glass, Stefan would've only drowned once, just as Katherine would've saved herself in that car. They literally put Katherine into the context of drowning in that car with Elena's parents when Stefan saved her life. "In this moment, are you going to feed on me or are you gonna save my life?"

Then what? You're gonna tell me that Stefan actually believed Katherine somehow cured herself of vampirism?

That he actually believed Katherine was just as human in their car as she is in that safe with him in season 5? lol

The same guy who, when Rebekah tells him there's a cure for vampirism, straight up says there's no cure for vampirism.

Stefan: There is no cure for vampirism. Rebekah: He's telling the truth, Stefan.

For Stefan to believe Elena was Katherine, even for ten minutes... he'd either have to believe a vampire Katherine would need him to save her, or believe a cure existed to make Katherine human... neither of which would be true.

So, not only did they destroy the night they first met...

Elena: How could you?! My parents died going over this bridge. I almost died. You knew that. You're the one who saved me.

They straight-up turned Stefan into Joe Goldberg, and they did this by obliterating his claim in 1x11. He already knew Elena wasn't Katherine, and he stalked her for four months anyway.

Stefan: I have to know her.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Hello! Sending some numbers from the end-of-year book ask, I'm not sure of everything you've already answered, so if you'd like to do any or all of these: 4, 5, 12 (especially because you write about reading books with vibes related to your projects), and 17. I hope you feel better!

hiya!! thanks for the ask! referencing this post.

4. If you DNF any books, what was the pettiest reason you put a book down this year?

so one of my toxic reader traits is actually that i DON'T tend to DNF things--i'm very stubborn, and i tend to read fast enough that it doesn't feel like a waste of too much time, AND i usually flip from "Reading to Read" to "Reading to Tear That Shit Apart" (as a writerly exercise, mostly, or for a hate read, which i find cathartic because i am frequently full of rage these days).

one book that is taking me Much Longer Than Anticipated to get through, though, is DAEMON VOICES by Philip Pullman, which i started in....september. a writer friend gifted it to me, and i was pleasantly surprised by the last book she gifted me, so i'm slogging along. but. this man. grates on me. it's mostly his hot takes on religion, so i keep putting him in time out when he conflates shit he has no business conflating. some of his general story thoughts are interesting! but every time he mentions religion, he's on thin ice with me, and he keeps winding up in Time Out About It lol. (also the lectures transcribed to essays format isn't really working for me, pettily.)

5. What's a scene you read this year that sticks with you?

oof okay i LOVE the specificity of this question but it absofuckenlutely made me bluescreen haha.

after staring at my shelves about it for a few minutes (quite a few minutes), i have to confess that MOST of NETWORK EFFECT is imprinted on my grey matter (but that's my second time rereading it, so i don't know if it counts. shout out to "ART sent me" and "you little idiot," especially).

for things new to me this year: the last scene of ROADSIDE PICNIC by the Strugatskys has apparently ALSO imprinted on my brain (unexpected), and mumu's delightful narration in WALKING PRACTICE by Dolki Min has great sticking power (there's some VERY cool text formatting going on there that feeds into the voice, which i loved!).

12. Did any book inspire you to create?

first off, it made my whole week that you mentioned the reading/writing/vibes thing, i feel seen and known, thank you!!

second off: WALKING PRACTICE gave me excellent writing-related vibes and inspiration for my weird little monster child book, and i loved the cool formatting/voice things it did. (it definitely comes with content warnings, though, for things like graphic on-page sex and body horror and eating people (frequently all three of those together/concurrent), so proceed with caution if that's not your jam!)

the SKYBOUND SAGA also inspired ~creation~ for me, from the opposite direction: very much a "damn, if this can get published, mine can too, let's gooo" type of inspiration. (i am a spite-fueled being, sometimes.)

17. A book you reread this year. Did it hold up to how you remembered it?

oh! i did actually quite a bit of rereading toward the end of the year!! i reread ARTIFICIAL CONDITION and NETWORK EFFECT in preparation for SYSTEM COLLAPSE, and those absolutely held up--ART and murderbot are my beloveds, and i stayed up way past my bedtime for like a week in a row (even though i have reread both of those at least once before, so hypothetically i know what's coming and i could put them down any damn time)(reader, i cannot).

my other rereads were VICIOUS and VENGEFUL by VE Schwab. VICIOUS held up perfectly, too--i've reread it before, and this time i did it specifically to dissect her timelines, and it's just a masterpiece of tension and pacing and history and reveals.

VENGEFUL, on the other hand, was Fine™. i don't hate it, but i don't love it--i could set that one down easier (which was good for my aforementioned bedtimes), and dissecting it wasn't as helpful of an exercise. don't get me wrong, i love victor and mitch and syd, and i enjoyed eli's backstory, but. it wasn't VICIOUS.

thanks again for asking!!

[allie-campbell-bradshaw]

Chapter 3: Oath

A/N: Welcome to the third chapter of Top Gun: Baby, a love story following Bradley Bradshaw and Allie Campbell. This story is sequential, so if you have not already read the first few chapters, please go back and do so! All links to chapters and their mood boards can be found on my masterlist. I am dozens of chapters into this story and I absolutely HATE going in and editing these. I promise my skills in writing improve as we move forward. Like any story, the first few chapters are used to build background. Once Allie comes into the story, it gets WAY better. I had so much anxiety editing this chapter you have no idea! I mention this in my notes for every chapter, but just in case you missed it– I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Swearing, Angst against a loved one

Chapter Three: Oath

BRADLEY’S POV

I was already finished getting changed into my white works, holding onto my copy of Reef Points as others were still messing with their white fabrics and dixie cup hats. This is the official “handbook” if you will that all Naval Academy students have to have memorized by the end of Plebe Summer. All it is are facts and details about the USNA and Naval missions, histories, and traditions. Like a textbook that you use for a college course.

Lucky for me, I was able to get my hands on one earlier this year thanks to Hollywood, another naval man that flew with my dad. He contacted me after I received my acceptance letter and promised that if I ever needed anything, he would help. That was code for “If you want me to put in a good word, I’ll do it”. I am a man of my own integrity and have every intention of creating my own repudiation. What the fuck am I saying? There’s no way anyone generational can create their own rep in this field. I am and will forever be known as “Goose’s kid”. It fucking sucks. I hate it, and am headstrong enough to prove them wrong with any misconceptions they might have of me, but I know for some navalmen, that will be excruciatingly difficult. I want to do this on my own. I want to prove that I should be here, not just that I could be here because of my dad.

Within the next few minutes, we were assigned our ICAO Company. A group of ten women were assigned to the Alpha Company. Natasha was one of them. She gave me a wave as she walked over to her quarters, in her dress whites, which fit her perfectly. I looked like a clown. I hated the uniforms, but didn’t want to complain too much, because there was a point in my life where I thought I would never get the chance to wear them.

I was one of the last to be called to a group, assigned to the November Company. Once we made it to our quarters, which was on the first floor of the building, I heard an Officer yell out “102 Bradshaw and Frasier”. Someone Frasier, whoever he was, was going to be my roommate for the next four years. 

I walked forward and made eye contact with him as he walked to the front as well. “Looks like it’s us!” He said in a comedic tone. I could already tell he was going to be a character. Honestly, I would’ve preferred it this way. I would rather be with someone goofy like me than be with a hardass.

We walked into the room and noticed that there were 2 sets of bunks. Whoever Frasier made his way to the one on the right, so I made my way to the one on the left. The bunks were made of a deep gray metal and the room was covered in tan white paint. There were two white sheets on both ends of the beds, a fitted one and a flat one. Both polyester. Score! I loved polyester sheets. My mom would surprise me on random occasions and take me to a hotel to sleep when I was younger. Most of the time it was when I did something good in school, like scoring a 100 on a big test or reporting a bullying situation to the teacher. I was considered a tattle tale when I was younger, but I didn’t care! I got to sleep in a hotel and swim in their pools! So, you bet your sweet ass when I found someone getting pounded at recess, I was the first one to run to the teachers and alert them of the situation. I would do ANYTHING to get to sleep in those polyester sheets! Damn, I was a hot dog.

“I’m Bradley.” I introduced myself, holding out my hand.

“Emmett.” He said with a big smile on his face, gripping my hand and giving it a light shake.

“Nice to meet you.” I said, watching him as he put on his sheets.

“Quit staring at my ass man.” He muttered out with a corner of the fitted sheet in his mouth, swaying his hips from side to side as a way to show off his backside.

I let out an airy laugh as I turned to make my bed. I was going to like this guy. He was equally as well humorous as me. Just maybe a little more immature.

“So what’s your story?” I asked him as I focused on my sheets.

“Buy me dinner first.” He quickly responded. I chuckled at his remark and shook my head a little. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to respond, which he eventually did. “My mom caught me and my buddies getting high and told me that I had two options: report my dealer to the cops or enlist in the military”.

I shot up from my bunk, looking over at him, his hands here resting on his hips in a way too casual way for his recent admission.

“What?!” I asked, still in disbelief.

“No, I'm just kidding,” He said, turning back around, “Well, not about the getting high part. She found my bong and I knew I was fucked. So when she confronted me about it I was able to shoot back with the ‘I’m already planning on applying to the Academy’ card. Which was true! I was already going anyway, it just bought me some leverage”. 

“I maybe wouldn’t share that story with the Officers on base”.

“Oh yeah I know! They think I got the idea in church. Sitting in the front pew, on my knees, getting the idea all of a sudden, saying it was God talking to me. They ate that shit up”. Shit that was good. My admissions essay was about him, and my mom, and my dad. Basically how my whole life has been a fucking mess. I was able to buy myself some pity, but his essay topic, now that was just genius! “What about you?” He asked me.

“It’s generational” I said to him, which was just the abridged version of all of my shit events. I tucked the pillow case in the pillow and threw it to the edge of the bed.

“Cool!” Emmett exclaimed sarcastically. “You look a little old to be here”. He stated boldly.

This caused me to smirk and let out yet another airy laugh. “I’m 23.” I answered coldly again.

He had his hands back on his hips, looking at me as though I had more to add to our encounter. “Well, this has been a fascinating conversation” he remarked, yet in another sarcastic tone. “Got a girl?”

I shook my head as I adjusted the sheets on my bed.

“Yeah me neither.” He said quickly.

“What!” I exclaimed, turning to him, “How does a guy like you not have a girl!” I was saying it more in a sarcastically joking tone, but there was some truth to it, because he was quite fun.

“I know, it’s not fair.” he said slyly. 

Just then, someone barged into our room. His eyes were a piercing green, his muscles protruding out of his solid black shirt, he wore navy green cargo pants and boots. His skin was a deep color of brown. “Ladies!” he yelled at us. He was definitely our detailer, the man in charge of training us for the summer.

“That would be us!” Emmett responded. Shit!

“Never speak unless spoken to!” The detailer screamed in his face. Emmett immediately went cold. “Now drop down and give me 20”. Before I could blink, Emmett was on the ground, doing pushups. “YOUR NOSE TOUCHES THE GROUND!” He screamed. Emmett went down further, until the tip of his nose grazed the tiled floor.

“And you!” He yelled to me, in less of an angry tone since I didn’t do anything wrong, “15”!

I got down quickly and did my push ups in perfect posture. The tips of my toes were on the ground and I went low until my nose was touching the floor. I couldn’t see him, but I saw an adjustment in his shadow, telling me that he was impressed with my performance. 

We both finished at the same time, standing up and looking at him. “You always stand at attention when being spoken to!” Both of us stood up, sticking our chests out, making sure to mirror each other so that if we messed up, at least we went down together. The detailer sighed and let out a “Jesus” before walking over to us and adjusting our postures to what it should be.

“My name is Denzel Housemen. You will call me sir until I tell you to stop”. He finished adjusting me and I made sure to memorize the position my body was in, holding my stance until I was told to stand down. “When I am not near you, assume that I’m close. I can approach you at any time of any day. So be ready”. He said as he adjusted Emmett.

He took a step back and examined both of us, “At ease gentlemen.” He said smoothly.

Both Emmett and I dropped our stance and looked at him, ready to go down whenever we should. We heard yelling coming from other quarters and assumed that everyone else was becoming acquainted with their trainers.

Denzel looked me up and down. “You must be the Bradshaw boy.” He stated, confident in his answer.

My face pulled down, knowing that he knew about me and the story of my family. “Yes, sir.” I said quietly.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” He started to scream at me.

“Yes, sir!” I yelled back, audible with clear diction.

“We expect great things from you”. He said calmly, before acknowledging Emmett. “Oh yeah, the kiss ass ‘found my calling at church’ admissions essay. Mom bust you for drugs or something?” He asked.

Emmett was about to answer and then froze, opting not to answer. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” Denzel yelled at him.

“No, sir!” Emmett yelled back. 

I had to bite my tongue hard, fighting back with everything I had not to laugh.

“Well, you both seem very intelligent. We’ll see if you last the night. Follow me gentlemen- and in proper posture! Pivot on your feet when you make a turn and never look down. I promise I will let you know if the ground erodes from the Earth”.

Emmett and I followed him as he made his way to the commons area. Men and women were lining up in their white works, standing at attention and facing forward. Most parents had stayed for this portion, the most important portion. The oath of office.

Right at 18:00, a Commandment of Midshipmen began the ceremony. They first informed us about our statement of intent and then ordered us to raise our right hand and repeat after him.

I looked over my left shoulder and saw Natasha, she raised her right eyebrow quickly, moving it up and down while she raised her right hand. I smirked at her and then looked over my right shoulder, he was standing right at the end of the row I was in, which only had 3 of my classmates separating us. Although he wasn’t beaming with happiness, he didn’t look upset or angry either. One could say he looked proud. 

I shot him a disapproving look before raising my right hand, keeping a sharp glare on him as I repeated after the commanding officer;

“HAVING BEEN APPOINTED A MIDSHIPMAN IN THE UNITED STATES 

NAVY,

 I SOLEMNLY SWEAR THAT I WILL SUPPORT AND DEFEND THE 

CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES 

AGAINST ALL ENEMIES, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC; 

THAT I WILL BEAR TRUE FAITH AND ALLEGIANCE TO THE SAME; 

THAT I TAKE THIS OBLIGATION FREELY, 

WITHOUT ANY MENTAL RESERVATION OR PURPOSE OF EVASION; 

AND THAT I WILL WELL AND FAITHFULLY DISCHARGE THE DUTIES OF THE OFFICE 

ON WHICH I AM ABOUT TO ENTER, 

SO HELP ME GOD.

I closed my mouth and continued to stare at him, keeping my right hand raised as people cheered around me. I was now in the Navy. He lost. I won.

He didn’t cheer. He didn’t even smile. Instead, he looked at the ground before shifting his weight and walking away. Having no intention of staying any longer.

Yeah, that’s right. YOU lost. I won!