#my mom is barely in touch with this person but the norm is to still send out an invite and most ppl would take offense if not

[daniclaytcn]

your tags about chim and tommy at the wedding took me out lol i know tommy had to say something so the soot gag would work but it is so funny in context. like it would actually be less weird for buck to have invited someone they don't know at all as a plus one than someone who has known chimney for 20 years and did not get an invite. if i were tommy i'd have been too embarrassed to go in case they thought i was being passive aggressive about not getting an invite lol

i think i'm just too indian for this conversation because personally i would have taken deep offense and probably would have never spoken to chim again. lmao.

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[starbuckie]

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

challenge: winter warmers writing challenge by @spaceodditybarnes

prompt: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by michael buble

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k without lyrics, 2.1k with lyrics

warnings: i genuinely don’t think i can say anything besides FLUFF, oh wait theres some mentions of the shmexy sex (i promise im a functioning person)

summary: in which they take a little holiday stroll and talk about what they are.

a/n: THIS MADE ME VERY HAPPY THANK YOU FOR HOSTING THIS CHALLENGE JADE!!! i kinda veered off the idea of christmas with this one, but my mind created another idea and i kinda just went with the flow. anyways, i really enjoyed writing this one, and i hope you all had a lovely holiday season <3 LOTS OF LOVE Y’ALL

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy cane and silver lanes that glow

Snow sprinkled to the buildings and sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan, making the traffic clog up to the oh so lovely sounds of taxis and cars honking. It was far from what people pictured it, really, New York was absolute hell during the holiday season. Sloshing boots and teens smoking pot outside the scantily decorated discount store that held very little, sad-looking Christmas lights.

It didn’t bother Bucky. No, he had never been a big fan of the holiday season. Even back in the forties, with his ma and little sisters, they had never been huge on celebrating Christmas, instead choosing to work those shifts during the holiday so they could make a buck or two more to hold them over. Now in the twenty-first century, the holiday just reminded him how truly lonely he was, everyone and everything he used to know long gone.

But then he found Y/N. Granted, it had not been a formal introduction. The poor girl had nearly damn run him over with her motorcycle for Christ’s sake, but nonetheless she crawled into his heart that cold December morning two years ago, and had not left ever since. 

Now she walked by his side at Rockefeller Center, her cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones, admiring the tree while he admired her. He already had every part of her memorized, from late night escapades in the sheets to studying the slope of her nose at team breakfasts. Even when he wasn’t with her, he was always looking at her, unable to pull his eyes away from Y/N’s radiance. 

This little… dalliance of theirs had only started a year back, and they had still yet to put a label on it. Sam had called it friends with benefits, Sharon called it being a couple without the name. Bucky had shut both of those ideas down, claiming that they were taking it slow and weren’t looking to call it anything yet they still had not really talked about it. Was it really worth ruining the bond he had with the girl he fell madly in love with? Whatever it was, they had never taken time out of their day to actually discuss what they meant to each other, but, God, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to know.

“Bucky?” Her sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, the glittering red and white lights of the Christmas tree reflecting in her eyes. “You seem kind of distracted right now, sweetheart, are you bored? We can head back to the compound if you like.”

He smiled at her worried tone, delicately kissing the tip of her nose. “‘M just thinking, doll, wanna stay as long as I can out here with you.”

The grin he received in return was breathtaking, her red-painted lips turned upwards and a little twinkle (literally and metaphorically) in her eyes. “Good.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Oh, look at that helicopter, Buck! That’s so cool!” Y/N pointed at a little boy in the store controlling the airborne toy with a small remote. “They didn't have those when I was a kid, I just had my Tamagotchi.”

He scrunched his nose, staring at her with an emotion that could be described as nothing other than distaste. “What the hell is a Tamagotchi?”

“A Tamagotchi was like this little digital pet thing that you could take care of, mainly used for kids who were trying to prove to their parents that they could take care of a real pet. That’s why I had one at least, but I never did get a tabby cat like I wanted.” Y/N continued to ramble about her weird pet thing as they walked through the toy store, though Bucky didn’t really care. But he’d never stop her either. The way her eyes lit up in childlike wonder and her fascination with the toys on the shelves was too precious to destroy. This was the girl who he had seen slit throats and blow aliens’ brains out, and in the moment she was ogling an American Girl Doll like it was the last pancake at the breakfast table. 

Y/N finally convinced herself that she was done looking at the toys, claiming that she was too mature for such things (she really wasn’t), but he let her lead him out the door, before she halted right in the doorway. “What is it, honey?”

“Mistletoe.” He glanced up at the little sprig of green and red berries above their heads, hanging by a small strand of twine. A small group of kids with families stood around, watching them with both happy and annoyed faces. How could they not notice Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes? Bucky’s vibranium arm may have been recognizable, but Y/N’s cheery, a little-louder-than-normal humming had caused a little group to watch them throughout the store. “I think they’re waiting for us to kiss, Buck.”

She leaned into him, placing her lips on his and placing her freezing hands on his cheekbones. Though Bucky had never been big on PDA, the rest of the world seemed to slip away when he was with her. He grinned into her lips, hugging her tightly around the waist so she squealed. When he forced herself away from her intoxicating mouth, she was sporting a bright smile and smudged lipstick that had rubbed off onto his. 

Giggling, she took her thumb and swiped off some of the red residue she had left. “You had a little something there, sweetheart.” 

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

Bucky watched Y/N point out all the different street cart vendors as they walked to Radio City Music Hall. She’d insisted that they go look at the window displays there as well, and who was he to argue? Strangely enough, they hadn’t talked much, other than the occasional “are you cold” from Bucky, to which Y/N assured him she was not. Her quiet voice sang the lyrics to Last Christmas when a little girl stopped in front of them, two auburn braids and green eyes boring straight into hers. 

The small child pulled on Y/N’s skirt, a silent plea to go down to her height. “Hi there, are you lost, sweetie?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she looked back to an older woman, who gave her a thumbs up and a smile, “because you are my favorite superhero and I hope you have a very good Christmas.”

Y/N nearly melted at the toothless smile the girl, who she assumed was named Sadie by the necklace she wore. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I hope you have a good Christmas too, and do you know this guy?” She dragged Bucky down next to her, the large, buff man hulking over the small girl. “This is my friend Bucky, do you know him?”

He eyed her warily, as if he were absolutely terrified of the tiny human. “You’re the Winter Soldier!”

Uh oh. The name was one that struck a chord of fear through everyone, still in shock of the events that had taken place in D.C. in 2014. While he and Sam had tried to label a new brand for the Avengers, people didn’t forget all the horrors of HYDRA and their prized assassin. Of course it hadn’t been him, even he knew that, but trying to convince people otherwise still made him feel guilty.

“You’re my second favorite Avenger, after Y/N, of course.” Sadie brought her hand to hover over Bucky’s vibranium one, her eyes wide with excitement. “Mr. Bucky, can I touch your metal arm?”

The man in question could barely utter out a word, muttering some sort of agreement before nodding with a timid smile. Giddily, she touched his arm, feeling all the cool ridges of gold-plated vibranium against the gun-grey metal. Sadie continued to pelt questions at him, about Sam and Redwing to his “adventures” with Y/N on the team.

Bucky, though shy at first, got more and more relaxed as they continued their conversation, his grin growing wider. Y/N loved her fans, she loved them so, so dearly, but seeing them interact with the man she loved was something different. Not a bad different, but a word that could only be described as pure joy. 

“Darling, I think we better leave Ms. L/N and Mr. Barnes alone. Say thank you and happy holidays.” The little girl looked sad, turning to look at her mom with a little pout, but she reluctantly obliged and soon the duo were off, into the crowded streets once again. 

“Y’know once upon a time I had dreamed about having kids,” Bucky commented. They walked along the sidewalks in a comfortable quiet after the encounter with Sadie, but Bucky’s mind had not stopped reeling from the happiness his conversation brought him. “Was gonna come home from the war, settle down with a gal, and live to be at least seventy years old.”

“Well, I can tell you you’re good on the last bit of that, Buck.” He snorted at her jab at his age, something that has become a norm for their little makeshift family of four. “What do you want now?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked over at her with a fond tilt of his lips. “Oh, just something real special.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Y/N, what are we?” She glanced over at him from where they sat on the Met stairs, giving their feet a break from walking for hours. 

“What do you mean, Buck?”

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest, trying to make her understand the amount of confusion and impatience he had with this one burdening question. “We’ve been sleeping together for a year, Y/N. We make each other breakfast, we go out together, I literally have half of my closet dedicated to your stuff, but even after all that we haven’t given us a name yet.”

Y/N sat in stunned silence, staring at the outburst from the man in front of her. To be completely honest she had never really thought about the question, choosing to enjoy each second she got to spend with the wonderful man with her. What she had noticed however, was how whenever they parted ways or were in the most intimate of moments, three little words nearly slipped off of her tongue. Every. Single. Time.

“Well, what do you want to be, Bucky?”

“I want to be the man you love. I want to be the man who loves you with his entire heart, though I like to think I already am. I want you to be my best gal more than anything in the world, and that I want to be the man who gets to hold and love you every night.” Slowly they drifted to each other, a magnetic pull bringing them to each other. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think,” her lips split into a grin, hovering over his own with the exact same expression, “that I want to be your best girl and the one who gets to make you pancakes in the morning and I want to be the one you get a cat with, who we’ll name Alpine because if I know you, names are the most important part of having a pet. I want to be held and loved by you every night, Bucky Barnes, and I am the girl who loves you more than anything in this entire damn world.”

Not another second to spare, Bucky pulled Y/N in close, letting himself get lost in one of her sweet, loving kisses, finally knowing that he was hers and she was his. At long last.

Sure, it’s Christmas once more

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, SE03, Ep1

I’m here! The final season continues from where se02 oddly left, right in the middle of a conversation! XD.

-Tohru’s crushed heart (scarf): Excellent symbolism!

Tohru, burdened with trying to lift the curse of teen & adult sohmas, is now also troubled by trying to help Arisa’s romantic life is sad for akito! Too much for compassionate selfless tohru. Unable to help, protect & erase the pain, tohru crumbles. Freezes. Her white scarf (heart) flies away, gets crushed by cars & becomes dirty. But here comes a boy ( who thinks himself a monster) picks it up, cleans & returns it back. He thinks nothing of his deed. nothing heroic abt saving a scarf, really. But do we need to be heroes to save others? kyo saves tohru by being kyo. Not the zodiac cat & not the menacing monster. Her heart is saved by him, shown much care & returned back. Mind you, the heart (scarf) is not brand new after the delima. It’s not very clean after being crushed, some marks remain, but these are marks of growth!!! you walk away after hardships carrying minor scars of victory. This scene solidify kyo’s role in tohru’s life as an equal companion. Not a heroic prince charming. It is the little things he does that shows who he is. kyo isn’t abt big soft words, he doesn't say the best things. he is a man of action. His care, love & compassion comes so very easily & naturally to him thro actions. This is what yuki meant by saying he’s jealous of kyo. Yuki over thinks his steps & doubt everything before he acts. Kyo acts spontaneously then doubts himself later. He saves the scarf (heart) then tells her directly to buy another one if she feels it’s not clean. He failed to see how this trivial action meant the world to tohru. Tohru smiles lively cuz her heart is back to her.

Why is the scarf scene so important? (aka furuba’s best usage of symbolism yet!)

It symbolizes tohru’s toxic flaw that she must overcome! It represents tohru’s tormented heart over other ppl’s pain with severe neglect to her own problems & issues. Arisa’s love life shouldn’t be tohru’s delima, nor Akito’s complex or Kureno’s or the damned curse. Tohru toxically chooses to bear other burdens’ until they crush her.

Hana can’t come to save tohru from pain each time tohru indulges in it. Tohru must realize her own flaw & grow up beyond this toxic type of kindness. Feel & help others, but don’t use them to escape your pain & don’t indulge in their own struggles & neglect yourself. There is a reason hana’s knowing of tohru’s pain is thro “magical” waves, to symbolize that this can’t become a norm, not real. You can’t depend on magic to grow. I love that!

The white scarf bearing smudges of the tires even after kyo washed it shows that kyo’s love & care can’t magically heal all tohru’s pain. It parallels kyo’s words from se01, ep,24 when he said tohru didn’t heal all his pain, but he feels better simply cuz she stayed by his side. Tohru now is feeling better cuz kyo chose was there for her. Love doesn’t magically heal you, kids! But it sure puts you on the path! Also, this once again adds more depth to the (tohru/kyo) equal give & take dynamics.

This scene deconstruct the image of Tohru represented as an angelic mother throughout 2 seasons. Instead, It paints her as a real flawed girl with much need for growth. Exactly, like how we have learned by now that kyo isn’t a horrible monster nor a prince charming saving the day, but a flawed boy with much need for growth. However, these two push each other forward in a subtle way through daily situations! Excellent writing!!

-Kureno. (aka. who tohru should never become):

The harmful kindness: Kureno is someone who hurts himself & hurt many others (akito, arisa, shigure, & consequently the rest of the zodiacs) by giving the harmful types of kindness to akito, by completely erasing his own needs, desires & living for the sake of someone who would be far better without him. Kureno is who tohru might have become if she selflessly continues fighting solely for the sohma’s sake & trying to break the curse while ignoring her own life. She’ll become as miserable as kureno & the zodiacs will become dependable on her.

The destructive pity: Kureno pities this tormented child (akito) & chooses to stay with her until her tears dry. This pity is destructive cuz it is done while he wishes to be miles away with Arisa & it encourages akito to stay as she is. Look, a child whose mom hates her deserves pity. But an adult woman needs to learn to build relationships based on mutual affection & respect. This talk of pity reminds me of kyo & kagura. Kagura pitied the cat zodiac. The relationship was doomed cuz kyo refuses pity. It doesn’t matter if her pity turned into love later. Kyo doesn’t want that from her or anyone. There is NO equality there. We know tohru came to love kyo for all the times he was there for her & all the times he pushed her to improve, to complain, to want things! she said so in se01, ep, 24. But we also know that young baby tohru pitied the cat when her mom told her the zodiacs story. what if kyo thinks tohru’s affection is pity???? that’s a big NO for him & for every person. I really want tohru to be as far from any kurno’s traits as possible!!!

-Akito, the pitiful woman:

Akito was born a girl, forced to be raised as a boy by her mother’s demands? where is the father?? she was hated by her mother. why? she also hates her mom. (hate your child & they’ll hated you). So, akito is doomed by her mom. Akito tries to prove that she’s loved by the zodiac “she specified the male zodiacs” interesting! we saw how she hates both Isuzu & kisa & doesn’t give a damn abt kagura. This woman, forced to pose as a man, actually desires to be treated as a woman. As for the other zodiacs:

No worries abt hatori leaving cuz he’s 24/7 attending to her health.

Ayame makes tea exclusively for her & hatori.

she thinks Ritsu is too timid to attempt leaving.

Hiro’s a baby, momiji is hated cuz she can’t break him.

Kyo is destined to be locked. but Why she cares abt the cat anyway?? She publicly hates him & feels disgusted by him.

She used to control yuki but can’t anymore.

she uses intimacy to bound those who “can” leave her the most: kurno! & shigure? she sleeps next to shigure in the valentine ep. hatori remarked: don’t let akito catch cold. We saw the sexually charged rage in se02, ep10. So, she isn’t faithful to kureno. They don’t have a relationship. She doesn’t even have a relationship with shigure, either. to her, sex is a tool to tie them both to her?

It is ironic that the person who said she despises woman & accuses Isuzu of seducing hatori is herself seducing others. Except, tragically, kureno isn’t with her for herself, but cuz he pities her. We saw her slapping & embracing him. Next scene; her bare shoulders & his unbuttoned shirt clearly implies they got intimate which is what akito does to feel secure in kureno not leaving her. Kureno is not even interested in her despite submitting to her advances, needs & orders. He does it out of pity. Truly the most tragic form of physical affection: sex for pity. wow... how tragically pitiful is the abusive ruler of the zodiacs who looms over them & demands respect & eternal bonds. How can she find someone who’ll love her for herself, if she doesn’t learn to show good sides of her? Yuki wasn’t loved for who he is in school, but for being the “prince”, he showed his real character & got himself true friends & soon a lover!!!  Kyo, was feared & pitied for turning into a “monster”, but once he showed his kind & harmless self, he got himself true friends & a girl who loves him for his actual personality! Who will love akito for who she is if she only shows a spoiled child, horrible family head or a pitiful woman? What does shigure love in her? he doesn’t seem to pity her nor pamper her much, does he?  perhaps we’ll know more abt the real akito later.

Side notes:

Akito’s mom reminded me of kyo’s dad. Abused children, who are hated by their parents, don’t let go of the hurt easily. they’ll always try to either get their approval, show them they were worthy of their love, or they’re NOTHING like their parents think they are. eg: Kyo’s biological father’s hate has destroyed kyo. Kyo have kazuma & tohru & he still wonder why they love him. It took kyo 17 years to actually promise to call kazuma "dad” one day in se01 finale. You need time to heal the wounds inflected by the ones who should love you the most. Being loved by others doesn’t magically heal you! You need to take few steps forward.

Isuzu is Ren’s clone! finally understanding why the severe hate from akito towards Isuzu. I’ll wait for more Ren/Akito content before analyzing their relationship.

Ren is so sexy. ngl, the scene of the zodiacs touching her belly after she just *conceived* akito is so creepy~ ew! 

Hana picked up tohru first before kyo, cuz this show isn’t exclusive for romantic love as much as it isn’t exclusive for friendship. There is balance. 

Tohru needs her own future, so does Arisa & hana! Learn to accept the limit of what you can do as a friend, tohru.. forever loving furuba for steering away from “friends stay together forever~yay” anime trope! Furuba is abt independent & individual adult life! building your own future! Epic writing!

Forever fascinated by how much the little small ordinary daily life things has really built kyo-tohru love! It feels so real & very uniquely built! Excellent writing!

Arisa is stuck with an adult man trapping himself in the most unnecessary love triangle. Kureno’s cage is self made, no curse. A very sheltered boy/man not living in the real world. Only two options for kureno if he continues this path: he’ll hurt akito, or akito will hurt him. We know the answer from the trailer, don’t we?

Arisa letting go of kuron is growth! Let go & live, girl!

There is a subtle theme of learning to let go in furuba~

Yuki is the biggest kyoru shipper!

Tohru intentionally hitting kyo with scarf’s pon-pon is my fave side of her! intentional flirting shows change from her little girl’s good girl attitude to her own type of a feisty woman! after all, she’s nearly 18!

The way the camera moved when kyo spotted the scarf was so good!

The director is obsessed with flying!! did he work on attack on titans? cuz the Ren-akito flying fight reminded me of Titan Eren strangling Titan Annie in AOT se01 finale! but chibi version! XD. I’m sorry for akito’s pain, but I was distracted by laughing! XD

look, if you plan to dramatize a situation, know your budget & your skills. Obviously, the director knew the scene is badly done, hence, the wide far away, dim lit shot to hide as much as it can. Couldn’t he do without it? let akito strangle her to the ground without flying!

oh well~these over-the-top shots are now a furuba trade mark~ just praying they stick with one weird shot per season.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 13)

Summary: The reader heads to her parents house to find out exactly how the movie is back on...

Masterlist

Square: Free Space

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: mature (language, angst, post domestic abuse, self-doubts, smut (protected sex))

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo​​​

_____

“Hey,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pulling open the front door of the house before you were all the way up the steps. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?” you asked, slipping inside and setting your shoes and coat down by the door.

“I came over to get to the bottom of what happened,” he said. “I can’t believe your dad would ever purposefully hurt you so I went to look for myself.”

“Obviously something happened,” you said. “The movie is back on, with me still directing and acting.”

“I know. I was there when your dad made the call to the studio heads,” he said. “Come on. Your parents are in his office.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood to talk to him,” you said.

“Y/N. For me,” he said, holding out a hand. You slipped yours into it and went down a hall to the right, your dad sitting on one end of the couch in there, your mom sipping on a drink as she stared out the window. “Alright. I got her here. It’s up to you at this point,” said Jensen.

You sat down on the opposite couch, crossing your arms. 

“Play nice,” he said. “I’ll be with your brother and sister if you need me.”

Jensen left and you glared at your dad, your mom sighing.

“You had a hell of a day,” said your mom. You looked over to the fireplace, pursing your lips. “Your father told me about Logan and while Jensen didn’t say anything while he bitched out your father, it was enough to fill in the gaps.”

“I can’t believe you told her,” you mumbled.

“I’m your father. I don’t keep secrets from your mother, not ones like that,” he said.

“I kept your fucking secrets,” you shot back.

“Enough,” said your mom. “Dad was right to tell me. It makes so much more sense why you’ve been the way you have the past few years.”

“He had no right to share that.”

“I’m your mother. I have every right,” she said.

“I��m not your child,” you said, your dad staring at you. “I was baggage you had to deal with.”

“Tough shit, kid,” she said, storming over and getting in your face. “You are exactly like your father and I know all of his tells so don’t try that crap with me. You’re my daughter so deal with it.”

You blinked and swallowed, looking to your dad.

“You and your father are going to attend a therapy session together,” she said.

“No way. I-” you said, the look on her face stopping you.

“It is a decision that we along with Jensen made,” she said.

“He’s my boyfriend for all of five seconds and he gets to make those kind of decisions for me now?”

“Your boyfriend for all of five seconds loves you. You have no idea that he is exactly what you need right now, maybe what you need the rest of your life. You know how I know that? You were that person for your father. You are going, you both are, and you are going to talk about what you both went through, together. Understand me?” she said.

“Dad could have talked to me before ruining the movie,” you said.

“He regrets that,” she said. “He did something stupid and he was not expecting that reaction from your bosses. So after your fight, he came home, very upset, and by the time he’d calmed down, your boyfriend was here and starting another one. Your father did not mean to hurt you. He made a mistake and he went and fixed it. Parents are not perfect, Y/N. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay. He saw you spinning out yesterday with all of the new work. He handled it wrong but he just wanted to get you some help directing, not shut the whole thing down. He made a mistake. It’s all it was.”

“Why isn’t he talking?” you said, your dad staring down at the floor.

“I don’t know. He’s barely said a word since he got off the phone with the bosses. Neither one of you is leaving this room until you talk through this,” she said. She went past towards the door and you stared off out the back window. You felt a hand touch the top of your head and a few fingers fix some hairs. “I love you, sweetie.”

“I know, mom,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I love you too.”

“It’s okay. Work this out. Please,” she said. The door shut after a moment and your dad turned his head, staring at the gas fireplace.

“Dad. Say something. You’re freaking me out,” you said.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said quietly.

“Too late for that,” you said. 

“I had no idea they would pull that. None. I thought they would send down help, not give an ultimatum. All I wanted to do was get you some help. I never would have done it if I thought they’d do what they did,” he said. “You were right to yell at me. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve all of it,” you said.

“Yes, I did.”

“Dad, what I said about my birth mom-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was just me she treated like that. She was a kind girl to everyone else. Maybe it was just me she hated. Maybe you would have been better off with her,” he said.

“You honestly think I would have been better off with a woman that abused her boyfriend? With a woman that’s family didn’t want a thing to do with me?” you asked.

“Maybe you would have been better off with anyone besides me. You wound up just like me. Just like me. The worst things that happened to me happened to you too and maybe if you had normal parents, got adopted, that would have never had happened,” he said. “Maybe you would have stayed safe and had a mom your whole life and you wouldn’t have had to deal with me and all the crap that ever-”

“Dad. Shut up,” you said as you stood and took a seat next to him. “You were the only person that ever wanted me. It’s my life. You can’t protect me from every bad thing in it. I should have said something about Logan but I didn’t. I was scared and embarrassed. You can’t keep me in a bubble away from the world though. It can suck out there but it’s not all bad.”

“You know I’ve never had someone simultaneously ask if I was okay while ripping me a new one,” he said with a dry laugh. “Jensen’s a good boyfriend.”

“He’s a good friend,” you said.

“Good. You figured that part out, them being your best friend,” he said.

“Dad, can we just forget today happened?” you asked. “I’m sorry I said that stuff to you. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said. “I should have talked to you first.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You rested your head on his shoulder and he pulled you into a hug, the two of you staying like that for quite a while. The door finally opened and you both looked up, Jensen and your mom walking in.

“Told you,” she said with a smirk to Jensen. “Y/N, why don’t you stay the night. It’s pretty late.”

“You guys okay?” asked Jensen.

“Yeah. We’re good now,” said your dad.

“I knew you two just needed to sit in a room together and talk,” said your mom. “Come on, up to bed the both of you. I don’t want anymore drama in this house.”

“We’ll do our best,” said your dad.

You paused by the bottom of the stairs, giving Jensen a hug as he headed for the front door. 

“Thanks,” you said.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You look better.”

“I am,” you said. He stared at you and you saw him smile.

“You gotta do it still,” he said, your head cocking. “Something you like about yourself? Practice.”

“Oh,” you said, leaning your head on his chest. “I like how quick I picked up that stunt today.”

“Alright. We’ll count it,” he chuckled. “I’ll swing by work around lunchtime, check on you. I assume you’re going to have a busy few days.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I’d rather have that than the alternative.”

“I’ll bring something by for you and your staff,” he said.

“You’re too sweet,” you said.

“Jensen,” said your dad, leaning over the balcony after he got up there. “It’s late. You can stay the night too if you’d like. I’d prefer she had some company tonight.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be okay,” you said. “I took up most of your day already.”

“Are you ever going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I like being with you?” said Jensen, resting his hands on your hip. You blushed and heard your dad head down the hall. 

“I hope someday I do. Let’s go to bed, Jay,” you said. You walked upstairs, pulling him down the hall away from the master and towards the kids section of the house. Your old room was on the end, Jensen whistling when you pushed the door open. 

“Hot damn. I think my bedroom was the size of your closet,” he said as he looked around.

“I used to sleep in a one bedroom apartment with my dad for years. This was not always the norm,” you said. “It’s also not that obnoxious. You will not be complaining about having my own bathroom when my brother and sister get up for school in the morning.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said. You didn’t have too many clothes left at your parents place but there were some pajamas for you and you managed to find a pair of clean sweatpants from Anthony in the laundry room. After Jensen changed you slipped into bed, Jensen plopping down beside you. “Tomorrow will be better, I promise.”

“I hope so, Jens. Goodnight.”

“Morning,” you yawned, Jensen on your tail as you wandered into the kitchen around six thirty. You caught Anthony staring at Jensen and raised an eyebrow. “Anthony. Stop staring at my boyfriend’s ass.”

“Those are my pants,” he said.

“You can share,” you said, Jensen chuckling as he took a seat at the kitchen counter beside them.

“It’s okay. Your sister stares at it too,” he said.

“I am your girlfriend. I can stare at your ass,” you said, your dad walking in with a cup of coffee in his hands.

“It’s too early for this conversation,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“So is there gonna be another meltdown today or what?” asked Anthony as he sipped on his cereal.

“Behave,” said your mom as she finished plating some eggs for your dad. “It’s grown up stuff, Anthony.”

“It’s always grown up stuff,” mumbled Ella. Your gaze flickered over to your dad and he took a sip of his coffee.

“Dani,” he said, giving her a nod. “They aren’t little kids anymore. I think they’re old enough to know.”

“Y/N knowing is one thing-”

“I don’t want to keep secrets from our kids anymore,” he said. Jensen stood and was about to excuse himself but your dad shook his head. “You can stay if you’d like, Jensen. You don’t have to but you don’t have to go either.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” said Jensen. Your dad looked at you and you looked over to Jensen.

“Jensen can keep a secret,” you said. “He’s a good guy. It’s your choice though.”

“I know. It’s the reason I’m willing to let him hear this,” said your dad. 

“Is this about yesterday? Or your guys other fight earlier in the week?” asked Ella. 

“It’s actually about what happened when I was eighteen.”

“Hey,” you said, stopping over Jensen’s apartment after work that night. He gave you a smile as he waved you in. “That smells delicious.”

“Thank you. I hope it tastes as good. How was work?” he asked.

“Surprisingly good. The guys and me got a good game plan put together of how to function while I film scenes and overall. I’ll still be busy but it can work,” you said. “How was your day off?”

“I caught up on a few chores before I went over to hang out with your dad for a few hours,” he said.

“How was he? I know Anthony and Ella were kinda shell shocked this morning, including you.”

“He was okay. I asked why he felt comfortable telling me something so personal to be honest. I get that we’re dating but it’s only been three weeks.”

“What’d he end up saying?” you asked as you skirted into his kitchen to wash up.

“He just said he had a feeling I was going to end up sticking around and I might as well know now,” he said. “He really never has had that perfect life the world thinks he did.”

“No,” you said. “Thanks for checking up on him.”

“He’s my friend. It’s no problem,” he said, chuckling as he stared at you. “You didn’t happen to spill some pasta from lunch did you?”

You looked down, speckles of orange red all over your white shirt. You threw your head back and he laughed.

“You’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you take a shower and slip into some of my clothes while I finish cooking? I’ll spray some stain remover on your shirt and throw it in the wash,” he said.

“That sounds kind of fantastic,” you said. 

“Towels are in the bathroom closet,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You popped into his bathroom and tossed your dirty shirt out into his bedroom, finding you had some on your jeans too. You placed them next to the shirt, hearing Jensen come in a minute later to gather them up. The bedroom door shut and you got under the shower, smiling to yourself.

It had not been an easy week in the slightest but it was getting closer to the end and Jensen had rolled with all of the punches. You used some of his shampoo to wash your hair, humming to yourself. You didn’t want to know what kind of hot mess your life would be right now without him in it. 

You were still grinning as you got out of the shower and dried off, Jensen knocking on the door to let you know it was done whenever you were ready. You stepped out to the bedroom, a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt waiting for you along with your underwear and bra. You slipped on the underwear and glanced back at his closet, a smirk crossing your lips.

You didn’t know if he wanted to go there yet. Or if he was ready. 

You could tease without pushing for anything though.

You walked into his closet and found a blue flannel on a hanger before you pulled it off and put it on, buttoning it up for the most part. You took a deep breath and left the bedroom, Jensen whistling to himself as he stirred a pot.

“How was the shower?” he asked, back to you still.

“Good. I can’t wait to try dinner,” you said. He looked over his shoulder with a smile quickly and went back to his pot. He froze and turned back to you slowly, looking you up and down. “You did say to put on your clothes.”

“This is true,” he said. You tucked your damp hair behind your ear, biting your bottom lip as he kept staring. 

“I can change,” you said, spinning around and trying to get to a pair of pants as quickly as possible.

“Don’t,” he said. You looked back and he looked you up and down once more. “You look good. Very, very good.”

“We should eat,” you said. He nodded and went back to the food, dishing some up as you sat at his counter, Jensen joining you after a moment. You were quiet as you ate together, Jensen staring at you more than once. “It tastes wonderful, Jensen.”

“Thanks,” he said. You smirked when he nearly knocked his glass over and he quickly put it back. He seemed to devour the rest of his food and pick up while you finished with your own. “You’re uh, going to stay the night?”

“Would you like me to?” you asked, handing over your plate.

“Yeah. I like having someone stay over,” he said. You smiled and helped him finish cleaning up, heading into his family room when you were done.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” you asked, running a hand through your hair, Jensen staring down at where the hem of his shirt lifted up your leg. “Or...we could do something else.”

“Are you okay with something else?” he asked. “You said the other morning…I don’t want to push you into anything.”

“I’m okay with something else with you,” you said. “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said. You stepped over in front of him and took his hand, pulling him back to his bedroom. He shut the door and you put a hand on one of the buttons of your shirt. “Wait.”

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks, kissing you slowly, the taste of dinner still on his soft pink lips.

“You are beautiful,” he said quietly, kissing you, leaving his lips on yours.

“I’m all yours,” you murmured before you kissed him again. He put his hands on your face, your neck, holding you close. Your hands worked on the buttons of your shirt before you pushed it off your shoulders and opened your eyes. Jensen did the same and looked down as you stepped back towards the bed, pulling him with you.

“Wow,” he breathed out. 

“Want to take off the rest?” you smirked. 

“Oh fuck yes,” he said. He ripped his shirt off his head and you reached out to put a hand on his belt, undoing it slowly, finding the zipper of his jeans and pulling it down. He pushed his pants off and his boxer briefs in one go.

“Well fuck me,” you said, his cock already hard and slightly bigger than you were expecting. “Someone ate their wheaties.”

“Someone’s hot as hell,” he said resting his hand on your hips. You pushed off your underwear with him, Jensen smiling as he lay the two of you down on the bed and leaned over top of you. 

“You gonna do something or you just going to look pretty?” you teased.

He winked and started to kiss down your body, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

“Relax. Gonna make you feel good,” he murmured, kissing near your hip. You arched your hips up and he rested his palms on them, hot breath fanning over your clit. 

He lapped his tongue over the bud, so light you barely felt it. You tugged on his hair, urging him to give you more. He opened his eyes and you nodded, Jensen diving in. 

You sunk back into the sheets, floating in the good feelings he was giving you. There was a presence on your hips, enough to keep you in place if you squirmed, but otherwise he was extremely gentle, giving you a nice build up.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “You know what you are doing down there.”

“Good,” he said as he pulled back, licking his lips. “You taste delicious.”

“Hey,” you said when he went to go back for more. You tugged his hair, Jensen crawling up the bed. 

“Hi,” he teased, pecking a kiss to your lips.

“On your back,” you said, sliding your hand down to his cheek. He cocked his head adorably and you giggled. “Let me return the favor.”

“I am plenty hard,” he laughed. “We got all the time in the world for that. This is about reminding you that this can be good tonight.”

You smiled softly as you looked up at him, Jensen nuzzling into your hand for a moment. 

“It’s good,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he whispered, dipping his head low and kissing you. He rolled to the side of the bed and dug around in his nightstand drawer, swallowing when he suddenly sat up. “Y/N. I don’t have any condoms. I can run out really quick-“

“My purse in my bag. There’s some in the side zip pocket,” you said. “They’re new.”

“You are amazing,” he said, jogging out of the room and back in, tearing open a condom. You sat up and held out your hand, Jensen setting it in your palm. You sat up on your knees on the bed, carefully rolling the condom on his cock, Jensen’s breath hitching. 

“Almost didn’t fit. I’ll have to buy bigger,” you said. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up as he crawled onto the bed, lifting you up and gently lowering you down on his cock.

You dropped your head to his shoulder and your mouth fell open, Jensen holding you close as you adjusted to him.

“Slow?” he asked quietly. You nodded and he trailed a finger down the curve of your spine, whole body shuddering around him. He shifted his hips back, barely pulling out before delivering a deep thrust, his tip hitting your g-spot. He did it again and you turned your face into his neck, Jensen pausing.

“M’okay. Don’t stop,” you mumbled against his skin. He touched a hand to your cheek and you raised your head, Jensen’s lips finding your own. You parted them, a teasing kiss turning deeper as he started to move again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, rolls of your hips falling in line with his, smacking your skin together.

He breathed hard and ran a hand up to the back of your hair, almost like he was more interested in the kiss than the screwing. You smiled and felt him return it, thumb brushing over the back of your neck. Your foreheads rested against one another as you caught your breath, bodies catching on and moving in a perfect rhythm together.

You giggled and got a big kiss for it, Jensen let out a cute little sound when he pulled back.

“I love that noise,” he whispered against your lips. 

“Feels so good,” you said.

“I know,” he said, your hips rolling back as his thrust forward. “Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your hips and he bit his bottom lip. One of your hands reached up to his hair and pulled him closer, devouring him in a dirty kiss. He sank into it, your pants mixing together as you rocked back and forth. It was slow and lazy and you felt a low simmer in your core, the kind that would rip through you and ruin you when it finally hit.

He kissed your neck, your back arching, his lips kissing under your jaw and making you keen.

You tightened around him and he did it again, your hips moving a little faster, Jensen matching you for it, returning to your mouth to map out the warm wet cavern there.

His body was tensing up and you knew he was holding back his orgasm. You grabbed one of his hands and slid it down your chest. He slipped a finger through your folds as your bodies broke apart for a moment, finding your clit and starting to rub. 

Your mouth fell open and you squeezed every muscle in your body, hips working in time with his as he kept working the bud with his fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, crest of an orgasm hitting you and stealing your breath away, Jensen slamming his hips into you harder. You made some kind of deep and low moan as pleasure ran through you, Jensen’s body going rigid as he came. You moved your hips as long as you could, head dropping onto his shoulder as you tried to get some air back in your lungs.

He thrust slowly a few more times, riding out the last waves of his high before he stilled and wrapped his arms around your back.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his whole body starting to relax. You shakily lifted your head, Jensen doing the same. His green eyes were a little darker and a whole lot hazier. You could barely think, didn’t want to feel anything but the after effects of an orgasm like that. He crashed his lips to yours, somehow finding enough energy to steal your breath away one last time. 

Your head felt dizzy when he pulled away and he lay you down, slipping out of you. You felt him get out of the bed for a moment, returning after a second with no condom and tucking into your side.

You lay there with your eyes shut, Jensen rolling you to use his body as a pillow and you were more than okay with that. Your arm rested over his waist and you pressed your chest to his, head resting on his shoulder, his arm lazily wrapped around your back.

“Wow,” he finally said, his chest rising and falling more slowly.

“You are fucking amazing,” you said. 

“Takes one to know one,” he laughed. “That was okay?”

“More than,” you said, forcing your eyes open, Jensen looking down at you. “Thank you for making that fun for me again.”

“I could say the same to you,” he said, kissing your temple before his eyes fluttered shut. You kissed his chest before you shut your eyes and fell asleep listening to his slow heartbeat.

______

A/N: Read Part 14 here!

[deiitaelric]

Soulmates au where a stain appears on your skin if your soulmate touches you BkDk // KrKm

bakudeku // kirikami // angst // lots of miscommunication

Izuku heard about it when he was a little kid, but he thought it was a farytale. But at the age of 8, he learned that it was something real.

His mom showed him her stain and when he told Kacchan about it, the blonde didn’t believe him. The little 8 yo Kacchan asked his mother and she showed him her stain, and the boy demanded his father to show him the matching one.

The little boy didn’t sleep so much that night.

Yet, Izuku was excited because he was sure Kacchan had to be his soulmate, so one day he tried to touch his arm.

Katsuki pushed him away, glaring with scared, angry eyes before running off.

Next day, Katsuki appeared in a sweater and Izuku didn’t see much of his skin anymore.

Almost ten years have passed since then and Katsuki still wears sweaters every day.

Izuku didn’t attempt to touch him again.

They went through a little weird period after that incident and Katsuki was really tough with him for a while, but nowadays they’re friends.

Not intimate friends, but close enough.

They hang around sometimes, and are a constant in each other’s lives.

Izuku thinks he’s the only friend Katsuki has, because he’s tough with everyone else around them, like he didn’t want anyone else around him.

But Izuku knows him well and knows he’s lonely, so he introduced Katsuki to some of his other friends, hoping to expand his social circle. Though the thought pained Izuku, he believed that if Kacchan finally found his soulmate, it would be worth it.

Given the circumstances, after years and years waiting, Izuku started to think about his own soulmate, assuming that Kacchan couldn’t be the one. If a person is so scared of being your soulmate, they can’t really be your soulmate, right?

So Izuku started searching.

He hadn’t touched anyone else up to that point, which was just a societal norm in this world. So Izuku started going on dates as it was the best and least awkward time to touch another human being. Though his dates ended bitterly when they touched each other by accident, or on purpose, and nothing happened.

And every time he talked about the searching thing, Katsuki would bark something like “Fuck off” and further distance himself from Izuku.

 When Izuku was looking for somewhere to rent during college, he thought about asking Katsuki to move in with him. They were going to go to the same college, and Izuku was his closer friend, so it made sense, but he couldn’t find the courage to voice the question.

Having Kacchan by his side, day after day, knowing they were something impossible?

So he moved in with another guy, a redhead named Kirishima, and Katsuki moved to a nearby place with a guy named Kaminari.

Both roommates ended up becoming good friends with Kacchan, so it became common for the four of them to meet up to hang out.

One night, Izuku and Kirishima called the two blondes to watch a movie and play some games. Kirishima was out grabbing some snacks so Izuku received them.

The blondes settled in the living room as Izuku prepared some drinks. He was setting the colas on the center table when they noticed a bandage covering Izuku’s elbow and upper arm.

“Hey, what’s that?” Denki asked.

“Ah, hm…” Izuku started, tugging at the bandage, and he stopped when he heard the door.

“I’m hooooome!”

“Welcome, Kiri! You need help?”

“If you don’t mind”

“I’m coming!” He left Kaminari searching for a movie in the catalog and Katsuki just sitting there, staring at the air, frowning.

When the boys came back, Izuku sat on the ground, passing some snacks to the other boys. He kept a bowl for himself and started eating. Kirishima looked at him, still standing, and gave him a light kick.

“You’re eating my stuff”

“Share with me”

“I asked you what you wanted before I left, Mido, just-”

“Please?” Izuku whined, pouting.

“Uh. ‘Kay” the redhead relented.

Katsuki’s eyes widened in shock as he watched the redhead pat Izuku’s fluffy green hair. Kirishima then sat down next to Katsuki, beckoning Izuku to join the group on the couch. Izuku plopped down on the floor beside the redhead’s legs, and the latter periodically reclined to grab snacks from the bowl nestled between Izuku’s knees.

He felt eyes on him and turned his head; Kaminari was looking at him with an expression he supposed reflected his own face.

They watched the movie in silence. Well, the two blondes were silent, barely paying attention to the movie as they searched for marked skin or matching bandages.

Katsuki knew Izuku was looking for someone, but really? Izuku didn’t even tell him?

And even if Katsuki thought he was prepared for such an eventuality, he wasn’t.

Part 2

(This’s part of a twt thread. Follow me @\deiitaelric)

[choruscas]

suptober day 10: sweet rides

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

(THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS! ONCE IT’S OUT, I’LL EDIT THIS ONE AND LINK TO THE SECOND PART ONCE IT’S FINISHED!)

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

October 10th, 1890 - Lawrence, Kansas

Castiel drew his breath in as the cold air of fall hit his face. He looked around the town, seeing no signs of anybody out.

Most of them were probably in saloons or shops of some sort, drinking their sorrows away with cheap whiskey and tapping all their fortunes out with gambling.

He had lived in this town his whole life, but downtown he has only recently grown familiar with it.

Two months ago, his parents disappeared from him. And the rest of his family either moved away from Lawrence or were arrested for felony and murder charges. Castiel wasn’t like that. Being the youngest in the Novak family was hard, but he managed. He was the last of the Novak’s and he never made any promises to carry the family name, since he wasn’t interested in women of any kind.

So he wouldn’t. Once he drew his dying and final breath, the Novak’s would be no more.

However, in the meantime, he could make fault of his name. He wasn’t the proudest of being a Novak, but like previously said, he managed.

Walking through the dirt roads, marked with horses hooves and wagon’s wheels after years of use, Castiel found himself at the Roadhouse, like he did every Friday night.

He enjoyed the company there, and the beer was cheap but it was decent. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as his mom had drank her heart out all his life, but alcohol was the norm, so he occasionally had a beer or two.

He went inside, pushing the doors forward to be greeted by Ellen Harvelle, the Roadhouse’s proud owner. She was serving a man, who Castiel had never seen before, with big ears and a long nose.

“Hello Ellen. Is Jo working tonight?” he smiled at her while approaching the counter. Jo Harvelle was younger and was also Ellen’s only daughter.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “She’s got studyin’ so she’s workin’ on that upstairs.”

Castiel nodded and looked around the room, there were the usuals that were normally around, like Bobby Singer with his friend Rufus Turner, Meg Masters (a devil in disguise, ask anybody) and...

Dean Winchester.

Town’s heartthrob. And Castiel would never admittedly say this, but also the only man Castiel had currently sought out for.

About a month ago, Dean’s father had died and so him and his brother moved all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Lawrence. He became a regular and were familiar with some of the townspeople, since he had lived there until he was four. His mother had died in the paper’s fire at their house, and so they moved across the country. Since the town was celebrating its thirty-sixth anniversary soon, it meant that the town was still young, and so was Dean. John Winchester — thy boys’ father, was a state-famous cowboy, which gave Dean and his brother Sam a good name.

However, Castiel’s has barely usurped a full-on conversation with the man. Castiel was fairly confident, but pretty boys like Dean made his throat close up. Normally their conversations were around five minutes long, until some girl comes and ushers him away.

Although Castiel has never heard that Dean has gotten lucky with any of the women in the town. Maybe he kept it a secret, or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex. With a body like his, Castiel was surprised he didn’t. He could do so very easily, with anybody in the town who was willing.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called out, waving a large arm up in the sky. Next to him was who he thinks was his younger brother, with shaggy hair and a lanky body, Sam Winchester.

Assuming Dean’s gesture was meant to usher him over, Castiel got up from his stool and walked over, taking off his black cowboy hat and placing it on the pool table once he got to his destination. Dean tipped his Stetson in greeting and flashed a toothy smile to Castiel, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“You here for a beer, angel?” Dean asked.

That was new.

“Uhm, yes. Like I normally am.” Castiel replied solemnly, a little bit skeptical since Dean was being extra flashy today.

Perhaps it was because Sam was around.

“Well,” he started. “I’d like ya to meet Sammy, my lil’ brother. Sammy, Castiel. Castiel, Sammy.”

Castiel nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The younger brother stuck his arm out, signaling a handshake. It was firm, despite his young age. “You too.”

Dean gave his brother a grin and a wink and Sam had almost immediately left to go to the counter, instantly striking up a conversation with Ellen.

Odd.

“So, have you heard about Lucifer?” The question just popped up out of the blue. Dean was leaning on his cue pole, his hands over the top and his chin resting on his knuckles.

Castiel quirked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The murderer, guy got his face on the wanted posters ‘bout two months ago. People are sayin’ he murdered two people and some animals or somethin’. I don’t gossip like some people do here but it’s somethin’ I’ve heard goin’ ‘round.”

He licked his lips. He hasn’t seen any wanted posters of any kind, so either he was blind or oblivious to his surroundings. Hopefully the latter.

“I haven’t. Is his real name Lucifer?” Castiel asked, now engaged in the conversation, curious.

“Naw, Lucas or somethin’. Lucas... Shurley, I’m pretty sure.” He bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

Fuck.

“Lucas Shurley? I...” Castiel’s mouth went dry and the world suddenly got dizzy. “I need to sit down— o-or leave... I—“

Dean put down his cue stick, and it clattered to the ground. He gracefully swept over to where Castiel started leaning over the pool table. He put his hands on his back and laced his fingers with his to support him up.

“Cas?” His voice was soft, like of those of a kitten. “Hey... hey, man. Are you alright?”

“I have to go home—“ Castiel started, his stomach feeling like thousands of volcanic ruptures.

“I’ll take ya, man. How far do you live?”

Castiel looked up to face Dean. “About— about two miles up north. You... I can walk.”

“Walk? No. Where’s your horse?”

“Don’t have one anymore. Horse disappeared along with my parents.” Castiel said like it was nothing.

In all honesty, he didn’t believe it was nothing. He just didn’t want to worry Dean.

It was everything. Chuck and Naomi Novak were his favorite people in the world. Sure, the both of them smoked their lungs dry but without them, Castiel would be a goner. They’ve saved him, fixed him, in more ways and times than he could count.

“I’ll take ya, Baby can fit two.”

“Baby?”

“My black mare. God, she’s a beaut. Love o’ my life.” Dean smiled with pride.

Castiel nodded. That’s how Lincoln was to Castiel and his family. He was a very obedient crime colored horse, and he was very fond of him. However, after his parents disappearance, Lincoln had gone with them. Over and over Castiel theorized where they could’ve gone, but nothing of the sorts came to mind. They’ve always sort of stayed around Lawrence. Never the adventurous type, which was why their disappearance was odd.

Baby was a very comfortable horse, but it was even more comfortable to wrap his hands around Dean’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against his body. His chest was touching his back and Dean talked to him as Baby slowly rode ahead. Dean had reassured Castiel that since he didn’t feel well, Baby wouldn’t go as fast as she normally would’ve.

Hiding his blush in the night sky, Castiel’s eyes were weary and droopy. He never even got the time to get a beer, nor talk to anyone else. His trip was cut short. However, so was Dean’s.

“Sammy’s a genius, I’m tellin’ ya.” Dean filled the empty silence with something to talk about. “Been studyin’ to go to this new college called Stanford. ‘Bout five years old, fairly new. It’s all the way in California, poor guy.”

Castiel didn’t respond, but Dean could feel the nod of his body against him.

“You got any siblings?” Dean genuinely asked, cocking his head back to meet eye to eye with Castiel. Dean seemed like a good horseback, so he trusted him.

Castiel thinned his lips. “Yes... two. They don’t live around here anymore. Older brothers... uhm, Michael and Gabriel and-“

He stopped himself.

“And what?” Worry sort of filled Dean’s voice.

“I also have an older half brother... but I don’t talk to him. He sort of made my life a living hell growing up.”

“‘M sorry to hear that, Cas.”

Baby stopped in her tracks slowly, and Dean eyed Castiel’s cottage. It was on the outskirts of town, and the wooden place wasn’t the biggest, but it managed. He was proud of it. It’s been there since Lawrence founded in ‘64 and he wasn’t planning on demolishing it anytime soon.

Dean hopped off of Baby and grabbed Castiel’s hand to help him. The sickness started riling back in his gut and he walked to his front door quickly.

The wooden patio could barely hold one person without creaking in vain, crying out because of the heavy steps heaving on it. Let alone two. However, Castiel couldn’t tempt away from the green eyes and peppered freckles face with a smile he’s grown so fond of since Dean moved back.

Dean took off his hat and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around the crease and pinch of it. He looked down.

“I just realized ya forgot your hat at the Roadhouse.” Dean chuckled, his laugh music to Castiel’s ears. “Could I stop by tomorrow afternoon ‘n give it to ya? I promise I won’t mess wit’ it.”

Castiel nodded, his face becoming red. “Thank you, Dean.” He paused, then he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean simply blinked and didn’t hesitate. “Because you made me realize that angel’s were real.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel laid on his bed, first taking off all his clothing except for his undergarments. His sheets were cold with lack of use, as it has been a while since he’s used them.

Thoughts of Dean and his freckled body filled Castiel’s head. The imagery of his cock in Dean’s soft ass pumped his heart and he bit he lip, to try and attempt himself from getting hard. He had nothing but his hand to relieve himself, so he couldn’t tonight.

However, if he got lucky with Dean, he would be a sweet ride indeed.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[the-black-birb]

Rekindle [Futakuchi Kenji]

Pairing: Futakuchi Kenji x Reader

Summary: Futakuchi gets a phone call from an old triend and soon finds himself in over his head.

A/N: Had to write this bc @miyulovestowrite 's smau had me thinking ab the futacoochie 😔✌ I never intended this to be this long but it looks like it's gonna be multiple parts!!

I listend to Katelyn Lapid's "When Somebody Love Me" and Death Bed by Powfu when writing this so that's?? The inspo

[Part 1] / Part 2 / Part 3

Without a doubt, most people that met Futakuchi Kenji would agree he had an awful personality. Whether it was in conversation or on the court, he was particularly skilled at provoking people just enough that they couldn’t quite call him out on it, but they still left with a bad taste in their mouth. His actions were almost always for his own benefit, he was rather selfish, and there was positively sour. This was the general consensus of Futakuchi Kenji, and he worked everyday to live up to his reputation.

Among all the people he’d met, you were the exception.

Even when he was bitter and angry, your soft hands would cup his cheeks and tell him everything was alright. When he was fuming, you’d press yourself to his chest, all love and warmth, and relax into him. Your presence was a lullaby, calming him and helping him. No matter how little he deserved it, you’d stand by his side no matter what. When rumors and voice engulfed him, wondering why you’d ever choose him, you’d be cradling him in your and pressing soft kisses to his hair promising you were the only one for him.

Your unwavering confidence in him was one of the reasons he’d never deleted your number from his contacts after the two of you split ways. It wasn’t really a conscious decision he’d made, but since Futakuchi had never held any ill will to you it had never really occurred to him that it might be strange to keep an ex’s number saved.

His memories of you were almost exclusively positive. Even his low moments and your rough patches were illuminated by the comfort you’d always provided each other. He kept all his photos of you and on the occasion that he found them while browsing his camera roll, he’d always smile fondly (one time, his teammates had seen and thought he was possessed).

Despite the impact you’d left on him, Futakuchi hadn’t spoken to you since the two of you broke up. Although you’d initiated the conversation, the end was entirely mutual (or so he told himself). You were going to college far away and he wanted to keep playing volleyball as well as attending college and you were certain it simply wouldn’t work out. Although it stung a bit, Futakuchi couldn’t bring himself to harbor any anger towards you.

You’d always been like a guardian angel to him, looking out for him and yourself. He couldn’t get mad at you for simply wanting the best for yourself.

While his friends insinuated it was quite possibly the most mature Futakuchi had ever reacted to, well, anything, he’d been more focused on seeing the path forward. If you were going to move on with your life and make yourself better, he couldn’t disappoint you by wallowing over a relationship that was long gone.

And so, despite the immense impact you’d had on him, Futakuchi hadn’t thought about you in years. He’d decided to focus on the now, his volleyball team and his job, before he’d let his thoughts drift back to you.

But he’d never forget you. Every time he got irritated, he’d remember your touch, lingering on his shoulder. Every time he drank chamomile tea, he’d recall you treating him after every game. Each time his friends teased him on his bachelorhood, he’d think about your hand firmly in his. There were traces of you everywhere, even if he’d never admit it.

Yet he thought of all places, his mind would be clear of you in a volleyball stadium. Even when you wore his jersey and visited practices, volleyball was always his before it was yours together. When he continued to college, he was able to clear his mind of everything except the sport when he needed to. Even today, sitting next to his intimidating best friend and watching the old freak duo play each other, he hadn’t a worry in his mind except the outcome of the match.

Until his phone started ringing.

Even worse, it happened while that (“snotty-ass” as Futakuchi called him) setter was up to serve, just as the whole gymnasium quieted down. He was so concerned with the eyes drawn to him; he didn’t even take the time to look at the caller ID before he picked up. Instead, he muttered a quip “what?” to his mystery caller as he briskly left the stadium, finding someplace he could speak in quiet.

“Kenji?” the caller said.

His heart dropped.

“Is that you?” It was a female.

Even four years later, he’d recognize your voice easily. It was just as gentle as he remembered, if not for the specks of tension he could sense. You sounded scared.

Not really sure how to react to his ex, possibly the person he’d come closest to ever being in love with, called him after four years of radio silence he found himself breathing out a shallow “Yeah.” He swallowed his worries. “It’s me.”

Futakuchi was at a loss for words. Should he be excited? Concerned? Angry? No, never angry. He couldn’t be angry with you, no matter how much he tried. Instead, he was silent, waiting for you to speak.

“How’ve you been?” you ask and although your voice is light and you’re doing everything in your power to sound nonchalant, he can hear the nervousness in your voice. Whenever you were anxious, your voice would pitch up and your words would become so slightly forced. It was barely discernable from your normal cheering speaking voice, but he’d spent enough time listening you to know something was amiss.

“What’s wrong, [F/N]?” he only assumed you’d call him if you absolutely had to. You chuckled from the other side of the phone and he could picture your nervous smile, like the first you’d confessed to him (he thought you were joking, it took three more times for him to get the point and two times after that for him to finally ask you out). So clearly he could see the way your cheeks glowed, always giving away how you were feeling.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you assured him, betrayed by your tone. “I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing.”

“[F/N].”

You grumbled at his stern tone. Of course, he saw through you, but what could you do about it? You at least wanted to attempt to be polite, but all sense of social norm was lost to Futakuchi. Concise and to the point, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“I need a favor,” you admitted. “I’m sorry I can’t ask anyone else I just-”

“I’ll do it.” Futakuchi was just as startled by his response as you were. He wasn’t sure what had taken over him, but in that moment, he was confident enough in his own stability to know whatever it was you needed, he could sacrifice some time for you.

You chuckled from the other side of the line and for a moment, Futakuchi pictured himself in his bedroom with you under him, his hands tickling at your sides as you laughed and protested. It sounded so familiar, yet so far away. “You don’t even know what I’m asking of you,” you reprimanded him.

“So tell me,” Futakuchi resolved, as if it was the easiest answer in the world. He heard your breath hitch before you spoke, nervousness clear. He’d do whatever he could to hear you relaxed and stress-free.

“My brother’s getting married,” you explained. Futakuchi remembered him; he was two years older than the both of you but far less intimidating than you. While he was an awfully sweet dude, Futakuchi had walked all over him in high school (because he let him!). “It’s a month from today and my mom’s pressuring me to bring a date. So, come with me?”

As much as he relished at the idea of seeing you dressed up and at his side, he knew there was more to this. “Why me?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. It had been four years since you’d last spoken, yet you called him up on a Saturday noon for a date like nothing had changed between the two.

He heard you moving over the phone, likely shifting position to sit comfortably and think over your words. He gave you time to figure it out, because he always. Futakuchi’s subtle talent was his patience for those around him who were quieter, like you and Aone. He didn’t come off as someone with that sort of resilience but you knew otherwise.

Finally, you were ready to speak. “You’re the only one I can ask,” your voice choked up and suddenly Futakuchi felt bad for asking. “I just… there’s no one else that knows about my family.”

Oh.

Suddenly, he was sitting in your bedroom, cradling you in his arms. It wasn’t often, but every few weeks when your mother was out of the house and your brother was away at college, you’d breakdown. But Futakuchi had always been there to catch you. Your parents had divorced long before he met you, but he witnessed the scars it left behind. He listened to you on countless sleepless nights, rambling about how it always felt like your fault. He’d even met your father, picking you up from his house one weekend when your mother had work.

Yes, he’d seen first hand the intricacies of your family. He knew what subjects were taboo and who he could joke around with. Most importantly, he’d seen you grow past what your family had taught you to become your own person. He was certain by now you’d have found someone else to share all of this with. After all, any guy or girl would be lucky to have you.

But it appeared you haven’t.

“I know it’s a month away,” your voice was strained. He prayed you weren’t crying, the thought of it making his chest tighten. “But I’m helping my brother prep and I don’t know how my friends would react and…”

“Calm down” Babe. The word was caught in his throat, almost thrown out instinctively. He imagined all he’d do to comfort you, gentle running his fingers through your hair and pressing kisses to the top of your head. How he wished he could hold you like that.

“I can go with you,” Futakuchi promised. “It’ll be okay.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he desperately hope it was.

“Thanks, Kenji,” you sighed out. Relief flooded Futakuchi’s chest as he realized you had finally released all your tension. Your voice was vulnerable, but finally truthful. “We should probably meet beforehand to get our stories straight. Are you free next Saturday?”

Futakuchi gulped hard, a million different emotions mixing in his chest. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to feel. It all felt far too casual for a rekindling with his old flame.

There was a part of him that felt like he’d always see you again. He didn’t know why, he simply knew it to be true. You were too important to him to be gone forever. But he’d always imagined it to be a shared glance across a coffee shop, or passing you in the grocery. He’d never in his wildest dreamed pictured you choosing to reach out to him. Yet here you were, fear lacing your voice right beside resolve.

“Saturday is good.” He didn’t know if it was but he was sure he could cancel plans. “Does two in the afternoon work for you?”

Your sigh of relief from the other side of the phone had him sighing alongside you. If you were in this together, it’d be okay.

“Two is perfect. I can text you my address?”

Futakuchi had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“Sure, I’ll pick up lunch on the way.”

But he knew you, and he wouldn’t let go of you a second time.

[popculturebuffet]

The Jeffersons: Sorry, Wrong Meeting (Comission by WeirdKev27) (Black History Month)

Welcome on up! HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!  Yup i’m going to spend a good chunk of the month celebrating the best and brightest in black characters in animation, amid valentine’s coverage in the first half and a few bits of the usual stuff throughout. But i’m still throughly dedicated to showing off some of the finest media about black struggles and starring black characters, and going through it the best I can as a white dumbass. If I slip up or misinterpret something, never be afraid to call me on it, but I feel I can still try my best to honor these amazing characters who’ve brought such joy to my life and these wonderful stories.  So starting us off is a commission from Kev that’s been sitting in the queue for far too long. And it’s not due to lack of intrest: While before today I’d never seen an episode of the Jeffersons, I had seen the live performance of an episode done for that live with norman lear thing nbc did in 2019, and it was excellent and piqued my intrest. But with me never thinking to get the dvd’s, and not having Starz nor really wanting starz, there was no real easy way to stream it. But a few episodes were on DailyMotion, so I was fine with reviewing it for Kev and giving this series an honest try and the fact the episode dealt with white supremacy, at a time where we’d JUST gotten rid of a bigoted, white nationalist backing, piece of shit president, I was naturally all for it, I just never thought to clear space on my schedule and by the time I was scheduling things better, I purposfully saved it for this month as while the Klan isn’t as prominent, assholes like them sure are. And given the Captial Riots last month with sedionsits shitheads proudly waving the confederate flag around, I’d say this episode is even MORE relevant than ever. 

But before we can dive into why this one is so good, yeah i’m not going to hide it this is a really fantastic episode of television, we have to talk about the series itself. The Jeffersons was created by Norman Lear, a progressive and prolific television writer and producer who is a legend in the business for damn good reason. He created All in the Family, which shattered norms and standards for the time, and would go on to create Sanford and Son, Maude and Good Times, all to massive sucess. However this show came about because the Black Panthers showed up one day at his office to raise a valid point: While he did have black characters in his tv shows they were mostly poor and barely scraping by, with his two black lead sitcoms dealing with characters in object poverty. And while this was still a worthy subject to tackle.. they were absolutely right there should be a counterbalance to that, to show the obvious truth black people CAN be successful. Norman agreed and set to work. Norman already had the perfect lead for that: George Jefferson, an opinnated dry-cleaner with several sucessful stores. George was, and still is, a fascenating character with lairs: being cranky and curmodgenly as you’d expect with some fairly average sitcom quirks: He loves money, often overspends on flashy stuff to revel in his sucess, snarks at his maid and likes to scheme as a sitcom character can. He’s also in the early seasons a bigot himself, not really fond of white people or interacial marraige, which naturally makes living next to an interacial couple and their daughter marrying his son thorns in his side. But as far as I can tell from looking on wikipedia he does soften with time and grow as a person and by this episode he’s fine putting up with both his neighbor Tom, said guy married to a black woman and his goofy british neighbor, if snarky as hell because hey, that’s who he is. I bring this up for reasons related to the climax, trust me. 

So eventually the Jefferson's moved on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky, hell of a theme song, and got into their own adventures with the aforementioned supporting characters.. and so here we are. And after the cut we’ll take a look at just why this sitcom is awesome, why I desperately want to get some dvds for it at some point now or a starz trial, and how much the klan sucks. 

We open at the Jefferson’s Deluxe Apartment in the Sky. where his wife Wheezy and aforementioned maid Florence are preparing to take a CPR class.. which were that possible I certainly would after this episode, as I feel Florence is right in stating it’s a skill everyone should have. She also remarks that George had every employee at his drycleaners take it, even if it was because he got an insurance writeoff. But hey, doing something that can help your workers and customers in an emergency even if i’ts just to save money is sitll better than MOST businesses these days so props to him. There’s also naturally some banter and it’s really damn funny. As with my Darkwing Duck reviews,, I won’t be going into it bit by bit, but it’s good stuff and holds up REALLY well. To me that’s the mark of a good sitcom, one that can show it’s age.. but still make you laugh, think or cry all the same. So yeah in less than a scene the show had won me over.  So as the ladies depart for CPR class, George’s peace is soon interupted by Harry Bently, british person and wacky neighbor. Aka me if I were british and lived in the 70′s. He returns a tv guide, last weeks hence why he’s done with it, and ther’es some schtick and what not before Tom Willis runs in, upset because he’s been robbed. They took all his stuff, and while he’s thankfull his wife’s gone for the week so she didn’t have to be there for this, he’s obviously worried and suggests forming a building watch to prevent this, with Harry on board. George.. has no time for this nonsense, and after making a joke about Florence in curlers scaring them of, bredguringly agrees to attend if someone else starts it then slams the door on them once their out the door.  At CPR, our heroines volunteer enthusastically and meet the cpr dummy. resuscannie.. I don’t know how to spell that and frankly I don’t wanna because she is FUCKING terrifying. 

She looks like she’s going to come to life and strangle me. She looks like a hollowed out corpse doll a serial killer makes. She looks like something Charles lee ray would rnasfer into. She looks like Micheal Meyers grandmother. She looks like the corpse of Jason’s mom come back for revenge. She looks like sue sylvester transferred herself into an auton. Look I could go on, but the series does make jabs at the thing and most cpr dummies are objectively terrifying, so fair play to them. After some more gags, things.. take a turn. Part of what makes this episode so effective to me is this turn. It starts with, and even goes back to after this for a bit, some sitcom gags and cliches.. but it lulls you into thinking this will be an average episode... so when the instuctor asks two men to go next, an older man and his college age looking son refuse to participate.. and their reason is he refuses to touch anything tha’ts been touched by a ... well he uses a certain word and let’s just say you know what it is, I know what it it is and if I could’ve reached inside my computer and choked the life out of hte man, I fucking would’ve. 

Yeah turns out these two are KKK, with the older asshole leading the local chapter and their about as reasonable or likeable as you’d expect with Wheezy BARELY holding Florence back from giving them a well deserved thrashing, and only doing so because it’d both sink to their level and because they’d just use it as more fuel for their racist bullshit. And that’s WHY this works so well: It seems excactly like a normal episode.. until it suddenly isn’t. Until suddenly things are a lot darker, a lot more tense, but the easing into it means it still feels like the same unvierse. To me the good “very special episodes”, are the ones that use this: that ease into the heavy topic before punching you in the face with it and tackle it with nuance and skill. A Diffrent World has a TON of episodes like this, and it’s why it’s one of my faviorite sitcoms: it tackles a lot of really heavy topics with  a steady brush and while it can be heavy handed, sometimes heavy hands are necesary to carry a heavy topic.  The racists showing up suddenly also fits because Racists hide in plain sight. You don’t know someone you know is prejudice or some stranger is till they reveal themselves. They could show up any time anywhere and you can’t be ready. And I cant possibly claim to know what that’s like, but I’m sad that in this nation of ours this shit has never, and probably will never go away. So it fits that our antagonist shows up out of nowhere, having until now perfectly blended in with the other suited white guys in the class. Naturally, the instructor orders them to fucking leave and naturally klan monster makes some big white suprimacist speil. And being a sitcom he runs into Tom, with Tom mistaking him for talking abotu the crime and White Supremacist mistaking Tom for a fellow racist. Tom decides to invite george.. and while it’s clumsily framed as a wacky sitcom misunderstanding.. it’s very clear things just got VERY dangerous. 

Speaking of George he’s awoken from his nap by the ladies who are both still worried and while he goes into his usual digs on florence, and questions why she needs her bat... he instnatly sides with her and prepares to go kick some racist ass once he finds out what happened. It’s a nice shift, as it once again breaks the tranquil normalcy of this sitcom with the violence of racisim. And while there was no phsyical violence form the asshole.. to me racisim itself is still a form of violence. Thinking you are suprerior to another race just because your skin’s a diffrent color and wanting them gone or not to be near you is in itself violent to me. And while Wheezy again has good reason for holding George back, tihs is just what the fuckers want, Geroge is also right: right NOW it’s talk.. but how long before they start burning stuff on thier balcony or come for htem in the night? there’s.. no easy answer her, no easy solution.. just a man fearing for his life justifably whose probably been through this time, and time, and time again, dealt with his buisnesses being vandalized and his life being threatend and probably been beaten some too JUST for being a black business owner. So it’s understandable he’s fucking fed up and just wants them gone. Tom naturally invites him to the meeting., and harry agrees, botht hinking i’ts just a floor meeting and not a disguised KKK Rally. 

So at the meeting, the KKK Fuck does his spiela nd tries to assure them that “what you’ve heard about us is wrong”. And again this si part of what makes the episode resonate: guys like this try to make themselves seem resonable. THat “Their not racist” their the right ones and your wrong for wanting equality. It’s why these movements gain traction, they tap into people’s inner ugliness and disastifaction with life and give them an easy target for it. It’s what the president did for four years, i’ts what his sycophants at fox news CONTINUE to do: try and present being a racist, homophobic, xenophobic peace of shit as a viable and stable option when all it makes you is a racist , a coward and a dinosaur who can’t accept change or things difffrent than you.  When this guy eventually goes into a rant, as George showing up triggers it and Tom and Harry dont’ take his shit for as econd, with tom proudly mentioning his black wife, and both holding George back for the same reasons Wheezy did with Florence, he talks abotu them “taking our property and destroying our homes”.. and it all sounds EERILY like when Tucker Carlson went on about property damage during the black lives matter protests last year... and as a wise tucan in a suit once said, fuck you tucker. And as John didn’t say but I certainly will, I Hope you choke on your own spray tan you racist seditionist prick. My point is this sort of rhetoric, trying to frame black people as the enemy.. never fucking went away and is on cable news every night. It was in our white house for four long years. It won’t go away and probably never will and everyone of every race has to be on guard to find these pricks and make sure their message is drowned out with love. And that’s what makes this whole thing relevant: that these pricks hide in plain sight and mask their arugments with civlities.. but at the end of day are just hateful monsters who just want a scapegoat for their problems or even may just hate because it’s easy, or because they just wnat to and don’t need an excuse to be the worst human garbage imaginable. 

It makes what happens next all the better: Asshole has a heart attack, HORAY, and no one knows CPR since the kid walked out on the class with his dad before they actually learned it. George relucntantly sighs.. and knows what he has to do. He goes and saves the fuckers life. And that, friends, is why I brought up George’s racist past and i’m glad I knew about it giong in: because it shows how far he’s come. From hating white people.. to saving the WORST of the WORST of white people.  He regrets it of course, saying the guy should’ve died, and that he won’t be greatful and he’ll just keep on hating.. but his friends point out the truth: George was the bigger man. He saved the life of a man who hated him just for existing and who’d gladly have him lynched if he could and was trying to run him out of his rightful place in the building, because it was the right thing to do. Because that fucker sure as hell wouldn’t. Because despite being a monster.. it’s still a life.. and he can waste it however he pleases.. but he’ll now ALWAYS know a black man saved it. George may regret his decison.. in the dark, where no body would blame him for letting the fucker die or even know he could’ve saved him until he got home, and his wife would’ve barely blamed him, he still choose to save the worst of humanity proving depsite his curmodgnley nature, he’s some of the best of it.  It dosen’t change the asshole, he leaves on a gurney telling his son “You should’ve let me die”. George is unsuprised and leaves with his friends. And I do like this: the racist dosen’t MAGICALLY change because he’s saved by a black man, he’s still a fucking monster. And that is what sets him apart from George: Whiel George was a bigot, he not only never went as far as this monster, but he changed. He learned to let go of his hate as it was eating him alive, and while he certailnly and rightfully won’t let go of his resintment for white people, he’s accepted he can’t hate ALL of them for what some did to him. This asshole has no such excuse and no such growth, he probably died being the same miserable piece of shit he was , resenting forever a black man saved him. And that’s hwo it should end.. youc an’t save everyone and you can’t change a person that dosen’t want to. George changed only because he wanted to and he realized he was wrong evne if he’s loath to admit it. This guy wont’ and never will becuse some racist pieces of shit just will never accept the truth that all people were created equal.

His son though clearly has, thanking George before he leaves, and later as the rest of the meeting, realizing what these people are and what they plan on, leave as the assholes right hand man tries to continue said son refuses to acknowlegde him rips up the poster and leaves. See the old man not changing worked.. but so too does this.. showing some simply dont’ know better and some CAN change.. but like George.. they have to WANT to change. Only you can change you. And hopefully it’s for hte better. 

This episode was excellent as i’ve made clear, and I don’t have honestly much to add to it. It was a pleasure and black lives matter. 

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

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

do the thing - send in all the prompts.    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you Tony?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[ofmermaidsandmarauders]

stolen dreams took our childish days - chapter 2

Read on AO3, FF, or below the Read More

February 2020

It was Fergus’ first day back to school and he was dreading it. His stomach was in knots and despite Jamie’s best efforts, he was essentially refusing to eat the pancakes that are placed in front of him.

“C’mon, lad. I even made them into wee Mickey’s!” Jamie stared at Fergus for a moment before letting his own shoulders fall. “Fine, fine. Eat some of yer fruit and then we’ll head off to school.”

Fergus felt like this was a fair trade-off, so he took a few bites of the berries that were on the plate. He knew that he had survived a school day on less. In fact, this meal was like a feast fit for kings. Claire and Jamie had wanted to make his first day back special, and he knew they were just trying to be nice, but it was making him more nervous. He was afraid that his friends would notice a new family dropping him off and ask questions. His teacher would likely know what had happened, and her eyes would be full of the pity that usually shone through after something tragic like this. 

He had observed the change last time it happened in front of his own eyes. He had only been six when his teacher asked where the bruise on his shoulder had come from. Fergus had tried his best to hide it but the shirt he was wearing was dirty and had slouched off while he was taking his coat off after their recess break. Looking at the bruise, he had just shrugged it off.

“Oh, that’s just from my mom’s boyfriend. He was angry last night.” His answer had been so matter-of-fact. He was only six. How was he to know that it wasn’t the norm? Most mommies didn’t have boyfriends who hit their six-year-old children. His teacher’s eyes had instantly shone with tears and from then on had looked at him with this pity and sadness. She had called someone. The police, maybe? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the next night, an officer and a caseworker had shown up at his mom’s door. They had talked with his mom for a while. Her boyfriend wasn’t there after they had gotten into a fight. The officer and caseworker had left after pulling Fergus aside and reminding him that if anyone ever hurt him he should tell a teacher at school again.

The minute they had left, Fergus’ mother was in tears and approaching him. Her hands were shaking and he noticed that she looked more tired than usual.

“What the hell did you do that for, kid? Can you imagine if Adam had actually been here? You would’ve gotten him in so much trouble! He didn’t mean to hurt you the other day!” She seemed to just be ranting at him rather than talking to him, so Fergus kept his mouth shut. Claudia was distressed, tugging her hands through her long, curly hair. It looked like she hadn’t showered in a few days. “God, it was just an accident.”

With an eye roll, she walked away from Fergus without another word. Not even to hear him whisper that it was all on accident, too. He hadn’t meant to tell. Moving forward he promised not to talk about his home life. None of the bad stuff. Unfortunately for him, his teacher had also vowed to keep an eye on him. For another month it was okay. A caseworker came out occasionally to check in with Fergus and Claudia. Adam somehow was never around when the caseworker came, but he didn’t care. It was less of a chance of something bad happening.

Almost a month to the day, Fergus came in with finger marks on his upper arms, peeking out from under the hem of his sleeves. There was also a long scratch on his chin he tried to blame on a cat, but his teacher was smart. She knew Fergus didn’t have any pets from their introduction assignment at the start of the year. She knew what the bruises meant and she called the police to come and take Fergus away.

He didn’t think it was fair. He had to leave and Adam got to stay with Claudia. Why was Fergus the one who had to leave his mom? Why didn’t they make Adam go away forever? If he would just go away, Claudia could be happy again. He could make his mom happy.

“Fergus, I asked are ye ready to go to school?” Fergus snapped out of his reverie and saw that Jamie was looking at him with a broad smile on his face, the brand new navy backpack hanging by his side. 

“Oui,” he mumbled, leaving his uneaten breakfast on the table and taking his belongings from the man’s hand. He looked happy to be taking Fergus to school. Adam used to complain when he had to walk Fergus a few blocks to his class. 

Fergus wondered when Jamie would start to get annoyed.

It was Thursday evening and Fergus was completing his homework while Claire finished up with some chores. Jamie had gone to pick up their dinner, a treat, and a surprise, he had said. She just laughed and waved him off as she tried to finish the laundry.

“Claire, have you seen my green blanket?” Fergus asked from the other room, having finished with his work. She popped her head in and nodded, the laundry basket in her arms.

“Yes, just finishing some laundry. I washed it so it’ll be clean. I’ll put it in your room before bed, don’t worry.” She assumed that he would be settled by this, but instead Fergus’ face appeared to grow red and he seemed to shake. His whole body was trembling, fists clenched at his sides.

“Why would you do that?!” The words came from his mouth like a burst of anger, raising to a decibel she didn’t even know he had in him.

“I… I just thought that you’d want it clean. For the… For bedtime,” Claire started stammering over her words, not sure what the issue is.

“I didn’t want it washed! I want you to leave my stuff alone! Do you hear me? Don’t touch my stuff! Don’t touch my stuff!!” He kept screaming, the tears running down his cheeks now. Claire stood frozen in the doorway, the laundry basket now feeling like it had concrete loaded inside.

“I’m… Oh, Fergus. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” she whispered, her own tears filling her eyes. 

Fergus knew that it was an accident. Claire was just being nice, but he didn’t care. It was the only way that he was still connected to his mom. His caseworker still hadn’t told Claire or Jamie when he could start visiting her again. Last time it had been over two weeks. What if it took longer this time? At least with the blanket, he could hold it tight and smell her, but Claire had taken that from him. Just like they had taken him from Claudia.

“Go away!” he yelled angrily, running to shove the door closed before she could come in. He didn’t care if it was going to hit her, Fergus just wanted her out of his face. 

Claire looked at the mix of laundry in her basket, letting the tears fall only after Fergus had effectively shut her out. She barely made it to her own bedroom before breaking down into hiccuping sobs. It hadn’t even been a week and she had already done something to make him hate her so.

Most foster parents spoke of the ‘honeymoon’ stage with a child. The child would be on their best behavior, no tantrums, no acting out, for at least a few weeks. They had all sworn it up and down in the classes. The worst part is that she didn’t even blame Fergus. She had obviously broken a boundary that he had set without realizing it. She was the only one to blame.

Claire wasn’t sure how long she lay in the bed, frozen with tear tracks on her cheeks when Jamie came into the room. 

“Claire?” he asked softly, moving to push some hair off of her cheek. It took a slight tug, glued to her skin by the saltwater that had dried. “What’s wrong, mo chridhe?” 

“He hates me,” she whimpered pathetically. Claire couldn’t bring herself to look at him. There was a reason she couldn’t have children. She couldn’t be a mother. She wasn’t meant to be a mother because she was bad at it.

“Claire, I’m sure he doesn’t hate ye. What happened? I was barely gone for twenty minutes, ye ken? I come home and ye’re crying yer eyes out and he’s in there throwin’ a wee fit.” Jamie had a slight smile on his face despite the situation, knowing that the two had obviously gone at it.

“I was just trying to wash his things. He just… He flipped out. He was angry I touched his things. And he’s right. I should’ve asked. I don’t know what he’s been through. They say in the classes that personal items from home can be a major trigger and look at what I’ve done! I just disrespected his boundaries!”

“Christ! Claire, ye ken that there was no way for ye to… Ye had to do the laundry.” Jamie pulled her into his arms, letting her rest between his thighs with her head against his shoulder. She took a deep breath and then let it out, her breath covering his skin in a sad exhale.

“Yes, but I should have asked what he needed to be washed,” she insisted, trying to find some way to make herself at fault. He knew what path she was heading down and was determined to steer her from it.

“Claire, ye ken that ye did nothing wrong. Now, we will go in there and deal with the lad, but I need ye to see that yer doing a wonderful job as a mother. Besides, ‘tis only the sixth day together. There will be plenty more fights where that one came from,” Jamie reassured her as his hands slid down her arms. She leaned back to look him in the eye and finally cracked a smile. 

“You’re right. We can fix this. He can’t stay mad forever, can he?” She smiled a little more and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love ye, Sassenach.” Jamie guided her to stand by her hips before standing on his own. 

Knocking on Fergus’ bedroom door, Jamie called out to him and heard a feeble mumble.

“I’m going to take that as an agreement that we can come inside,” Jamie called through the door, opening it a crack. Fergus was curled up in the window seat, his own tears now dried. His things had been tossed about within his bedroom, obviously the aftermath of a tornado tantrum.

“Och, now, what’s the matter, lad? I understand that ye were upset but ye canna leave yer room in such a state. Let’s clean it together and then we’ll all talk over dinner.” Jamie looked proud of himself, and Fergus perked up a bit at the thought of dinner. He was very hungry after his tantrum. “I brought home Italian. Spaghetti, meatballs, chicken parmigiana, and the likes!” 

“Alright,” he agreed, moving to grab the closest toy, opening the window seat where he stored most of his unused things.

With the room clean and the three of them settled at the table, Jamie glanced between his wife and their newest addition. The two of them both appeared uncomfortable. He nudged Claire’s shin with his toes, arching an eyebrow. She needed to be the one to fix this.

“Fergus… I…” She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry for touching your things. I didn’t understand how important they were to you and I should have asked you to give me what you wanted to be washed. I hope you can forgive me.” 

He stared at Claire for a moment, blinking repeatedly before nodding. Jamie watched the boy for a moment, waiting for him to say something, though he remained silent.

“Fergus, Claire just apologized. Can ye acknowledge her apology?”

“Oh, um…” Fergus looked nervous, his fork pushing some of the spaghetti around on his plate, though no effort was made to eat any of it. “I’m sorry I got mad at you, Claire. It’s just…” He froze, realizing that he was about to reveal exactly what had upset him. For a minute, he wasn’t sure he should say anything. What if they laughed at him? But then again, no. They had helped him clean up his room, even though the mess was his fault. And Jamie didn’t look mad at him for yelling at Claire. In fact, he looked like he was actually trying to take Fergus’ side and make things better. 

“I just miss my mom. She gave me that blanket and it smelled like her so now it won’t. And I was really mad at you, Claire. But I’m sorry I yelled and that I threw my stuff and made you guys help me clean. I won’t do it again I promise. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” The words tumbled out of him faster than he could think them. 

Once Fergus realized the gravity of what he had done, he was suddenly even more anxious that he would carry the weight of the blame for the situation, and the two would want to be rid of him. He had heard of kids being kicked out for less.

“Oh, Fergus. Honey… I…” Claire trailed off, her eyes fresh with tears as she stood from her chair and crouched in front of him again. Get on their level. That’s what all the books and blogs had said. Get to their level so they feel like they’re being heard. Well, she was trying that approach again, hoping that he knew how sorry she was. “I never should have touched your personal things. I’m so sorry for washing your blanket. I can’t imagine how much you miss your mum.” Her hand smoothed down his thick curls, a sad smile gracing her features.

“Och, lad. Of course ye were upset. Only an accident though, aye?” Fergus looked up at Jamie’s words, a flush of anger spreading over him before realizing that Jamie wasn’t mocking him. He had a similar smile to Claire’s, his own hand reaching over to rest on Claire’s shoulder. Claire didn’t look like she was in pain though, not the way that his mom did when Adam put his hand there. In fact, Claire reached up and squeezed Jamie’s hand, like she wanted him to hold her.

“Yeah, just an accident. I’m sorry for yelling,” he told Claire again, placing his own hand on her forearm. Their limbs all created a link, connecting them together as they got through their first argument as a family.

“Fergus, maybe tomorrow we can call Ms. Sutton and see how soon you can see your mom? If it’s not going to be for a while, we can see if she’ll let us call your mom in the meantime. Do you think that would help?” Claire’s offer was one that was foreign to him. Nobody had ever sought out his mom. Nobody had ever tried to offer him that lifeline before. Fergus nodded enthusiastically and leaped into Claire’s arms, hugging her tightly around the neck.

“Thank you, thank you. Merci, merci, merci!” He repeated over and over into her curly hair, tears filling his eyes.

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 6

Thank you guys for your continued support! Your comments really encourage me to keep writing through any personal doubts I may have in my own writing.

Read on AO3 or see Masterpost for more chapters!

Em and Timothy stood in the hall, Grey’s bustling around them, the occasional Purple or Warden passing them by with a sideways glance. It had been two days and Emily still hadn’t spoken a word to Em, making her feel isolated from the pair. She didn’t want to admit the truth in Langdon’s statement — she’d find a way to reconcile with the other girl even if it was out of spite.

“She’s coming around,” Timothy assured her, “you could always talk to her, you know?”

“She likes you more,” Em said, Timothy shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You two are not great at admitting our mistakes, are you?”

“I stand by my words,” Em informed him, “and I won’t apologize unless it is sincere.”

Timothy sighed, understanding her reasoning but none the less finding the situation stressful. Emily had given him the same response only hours earlier. The two were remarkably similar, only diverging in small, almost microscopic chinks of their moral alignment.

“Perhaps if I could better explain—”

“My mom always said the best thing to fix an argument was space,” he sighed, knowing how that conversation would end, “just… be patient.”

“Hard to be patient when she misses game night,” Em jested, a small smile forming, “I had to team up with Coco.”

Timothy laughed, “the world appreciates your sacrifice.”

“Timothy!” A voice called out, the pair looking down the hall behind said boy. Em peaked her head out from behind his shoulder to see Emily standing there. Emily’s face fell and her posture became stiff, lips pressing into a thin line.

“It’ll all work out,” Timothy assured one last time before walking towards his girlfriend, hand going out to take hers when he got close enough. Emily spared Em a glance before turning to walk the opposite direction, pulling Timothy close to whisper something.

Em wasn’t good at apologies. She knew that. Her mother used to drag her in front of someone she offended and force her to say the words even if she didn’t mean them. Insincerity was a trait the older woman had refined… a tone of voice Em knew all too well. 

So she turned on her heels and walked in the opposite direction, wondering if she was being sincere in her lack of action or simply being too proud. Her feet led her to the salon, not in the mood for Langdon to appear over her shoulder once more and bring up unpleasant emotions. The brunette wouldn’t even be able to focus on reading, anyways.

The salon was surprisingly empty and quiet. A Grey bustled around dusting and cleaning as a familiar tuft of white hair sat on the sofa.

“Where is everyone?” she asked rounding the sofa.

“Hell if I know,” Gallant sighed as she sat down beside him, “this place is a fucking maze.”

“Evie in an interview?”

He chuckled and smirked, “and I finally have some peace and quiet.”

“Where’s Coco?”

“She’s in one of her moods,” Gallant said, whatever satisfaction he had left him, smile fading into a frown, “God forbid I want to talk about something other than her.”

“As a hairstylist, I thought you’d be used to it.”

“It’s not like I worked the salon 24/7.”

Em reached for a glass of water, “fair.”

There was a moment of silence… peace. Naturally, Gallant couldn’t let it last for very long. 

“So what’s your deal?” He asked as she leaned back in her seat.

“I’ve made many deals in my life, some savory some unsavory,” She said, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Well duh,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I meant personally. You’ve got this whole… mysterious thing that’s great, don’t get me wrong, but also there are like… four men left in the world and three are gay so you’re going to have to change your brand.”

“Well, I’m bi so that solves that.” Em said before muttering into her glass, “bold of you to assume I’m straight.”

Gallant rolled his eyes, “Everyone’s bi in the right situation.”

Em’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had met people like Gallant, people who said the exact same thing — toxic. 

“Well I’m also ace so…” she says.

“So you’re either a prude or someone did ya’ dirty.”

“Or I just don’t like sex.”

“How can you not like sex?”

“I don’t know…” Em trailed, trying to press a point, “How can you?”

“How can you not?”

Em’s nerves were already wearing thin.

“Well, we all know where it got Stu.” She snapped. They all knew Venable was homophobic. Singling out the gay men? She didn’t even try to hide it.

“You really don’t pull the punches, do you?”

“It’s the apocalypse,” she said frowning into her drink, “If I held back I’d be dead.”

Gallant silently toasted her mentality, but the look on his face displayed a sort of… judgment. She knew the look all too well. It asked — “Are you really part of the LGBT community or do you just want to feel special?”

“Let me put it this way,” She said, putting her drink down and turning to the man, “Do you like Brussels sprouts?”

He looked at her like she had grown a new head, “no.”

“How can you not? I mean you must not have had the good ones…. Maybe it wasn’t seasoned right. No one just doesn’t like Brussels sprouts.”

“Alright, alright,” Gallant conceded, raising his hands in defeat, “I get your point.”

“I get it,” Em admitted after a moment of silence, “I can pass as hetero-normative if I need to and I have due to being in the closet. But both sides of the table always told me I was just seeking attention or going through a phase.”

“This conversation got way deeper than I was planning on it to be,” Gallant noted, eying his drink before mirroring Em and putting it on the table. 

“Yeah,” Em admitted with a chuckle, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, “Some things just didn’t die with the apocalypse, huh?”

“New world,” He said, glancing at Em as he mirrored her actions, “same bullshit.”

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

At some point, Em wandered back towards the library. It was a siren’s song she could not fight against. Also, one could only bare Gallant’s companionship for so long. The man had a way to take his good moments and completely ruin them. He had tried to ask her about multiple highly-sexual definitions as a sort of test of her sexuality or somehow prove it was real to begin with. 

To quell her irritation, she focused on what she was going to do once she got to the library. There was a first edition Hawthorne she had her eye on, but the ever-looming threat of death made her wish for more science books. Hell, she’d take her old high-school textbooks over Hawthorne any day if it gave her the information she needed. 

With a sigh, she took out her notebook and scribbled down yet another unanswered question to research into. It only grew longer as the days passed with no end or hope of answers in sight. The only way to survive was to wander out into the radiation, but she’d rather die at the hands of cannibals than fall victim to cancer and tumors. Perhaps if they focused on finding canned preserves the risk would be lower? It was more hopeful thinking than anything else.

Nose in a book, she barely even noticed the figure rounding the corner until her shoulder clashed with theirs. Pencil clattering to the floor, a hand beat hers to the mark and she pulled back as she kneeled on the floor.

Emily was before her, mouth twisting as she handed the pencil back and searched for the words to say. Em was the first to stand back up, Emily patting at her skirt to buy more time.

“Hey,” Em spoke, breaking the silence.

“Hey.”

“So…” Em bit her lip, looking to the floor to the ceiling and anywhere that wasn’t Emily before sighing and looking at the girl, “I’m sorry. I got so... consumed by surviving I talked to you like you were stupid instead of listening to your concerns.”

“As am I,” Emily echoed, shoulders losing their tension, “I pretty much called you a heartless bitch.”

Em chuckled, “we both got heated. It’s not like your mindset wasn’t warranted.”

With a half-hearted smile, Emily gestured to the library door, Em holding it open for her before following after. As always, everything was right where they left it. Books left to the side stayed exactly in the order she had arranged, bookmarks in the right places. It was the one corner of the world the chaos didn’t touch... or at least where she could begin to understand it.

They fell into place at a table, Em sitting in a seat and Emily sitting on the table itself. She looked around the room, obviously not having been in there since Em and herself fought. 

“You know,” Emily began, “before all this I was protesting a coffee shop for exploiting child labor.”

“Now those kids have more to worry about than poverty,” Em finished the thought, “and they didn’t have the luxury of a decent childhood.”

Emily thinks about it and shakes her head, “I was always told I was getting angry for no reason, taking things too far.”

She looked to Em, “I’m tired of not being able to do anything and then it being too late.”

Em broke from her gaze, trying to turn the chaotic disorder of her thoughts into words, “I wish I could jump into the deep end like you, but I just… I just can’t be a hero. It goes against everything ingrained in me.”

Emily smiled sadly at the girl, squeezing her hand. She always seemed to understand without asking. Em thought it was like her superpower or something. 

“Let’s collect info,” Emily reassured, “and when you feel like it’s time… we’ll strike.”

“When we think it’s time,” Em insisted, “ya’ll’s asses are on the line too.”

Emily smiled and shook her head, “we’ll take a vote. Do it like a jury or something.”

“Viva la revolution.”

They talked for a while, Em updating her on post-interview plans. They needed to find a way to conquer the radiation. There had to be more than one organization of doomsday preppers in the LA area.

“What about the cannibals?” Emily asked, “we don’t even know what or even if there’s an armory in this place.”

“That’s why I was thinking of sneaking into—”

They were interrupted by the screeching of un-oiled door hinges, both girls quickly turning towards the sound. Bookshelves blocked their view, but the telltale sound of steel-toed boots against carpet was unmistakable to Em. Emily looked to her friend as she stood, walking towards the sound.

“Erika?” 

The Fist appeared from one of the aisles, smiling at the girl as Emily looked between the two. Em fell back to sit next to Emily, giving her a reassuring smile as she closed the notebook they had been looking at.

“You have a good ear,” The Fist said, turning to nod a greeting to Emily.

“Emily,” Em introduced, “Erika.”

“A pleasure,” The Fist said, Emily offering a still anxious smile before addressing business, “Mr. Langdon wishes to speak to you.”

“Me?” Emily asked, hand on her chest as she looked between the two.

“No,” The Fist replied turning to the third woman in the room. 

Em’s brows knitted in confusion. “But some of the residents haven’t even had their first—”

“It’s okay,” Emily tried to reassure, nodding for Em to go ahead, “we’ll talk more about books later.”

Em gave a nod of confirmation before turning to The Fist, “lead the way.”

Once the woman’s back was turned Em sent a frantic glance to Emily. Had someone overheard their conversations? Venable killed people for just having sex. God knows what she’d do if she unearthed conspiracy.

“I’ll be with Timothy when you’re done.” 

The hallways suddenly felt more foreboding, her paranoia making every shadow into an enemy. Would she be able to fight her way out of there? No… not alone, at the very least. They had guns… she didn’t. She knew how to disarm them. Bullets only went in one direction, after all. Then again, things like that were easier said than done. It was incredible what people were capable of when they were put between a rock and a hard place.

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

Langdon didn’t look up at her as she entered, gesturing to the chair she had sat in before as he shuffled through papers.

“Miss Mead tells me you’re instrumental in keeping morale up among the residents.”

Em paused at the arm of the empty chair, hand resting on the back, “Do you ever start with a hello?”

Blue eyes finally lifted from papers, a smile crawling onto his face as he put his pen down. His hands sat on either side of his work as he stared at her with what seemed like amusement in his eyes. “Do you ever directly answer questions?”

“Sometimes.”

A smirk of her own crawled to her lips as she settled into her chair, “I simply make suggestions on how to pass the time. What they do with that is up to them.”

“You sell yourself short,” Langdon noted, examining her reactions, “there must be something that drives your mediation between residents.”

“Boredom?”

“Actions cause reactions. There has to be something you wish to gain.” 

Langdon leaned forward and Em’s skin prickled with anxiety. He didn’t know anything. He was fishing. He couldn’t prove anything. “Tell me… what do you desire?”

She had expected accusations, the lack of which made her at a loss for words. Langdon watched her think for a long moment. Her eyes trained on the floor, looking beyond it at something he couldn’t see. She shook her head, defeated. 

“Honestly,” she admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Everyone desires something,” he pressed, “luxury, prestige, sex... Ah, well. The latter not so much in your case.”

Em either didn’t notice the faux pas or simply didn’t comment on it. Langdon knew it was low-hanging fruit, anyways.

“Material objects bring such fleeting enjoyment,” she sighed, “and then you’re bored again looking for something to fill the hole.”

She paused, genuinely unable to think of anything.

“I guess I’d like to live comfortably,” she admitted, “… not worry over rent or if I can buy food… but being here has negated the need for that.”

“Then let’s speak immaterial,” Langdon proposed.

That. That she did have an answer for, “motivation… happiness.” 

Her interrogator was less than impressed, scoffing at her response, “sounds like something from an Instagram thirst ad.”

Em laughed, amused as she realized the truth in his words and how she must sound saying them aloud. Langdon was once again perplexed by her reaction. He had been expecting something much more defensive.

“But it’s true,” she assured, looking down at her skirt and fixating on a piece of fuzz that had settled on the purple fabric, “I want to have motivation to work on the things I love. I want those fleeting moments of happiness to last longer… but these days they only last a heartbeat before they’re gone.”

He continued to stare at her. She was an oddity among this lot, genuine in a way none of them could ever hope to be. Langdon could see the desire in her eyes and the sadness that came with knowing it was something that could never be given to her. It wasn’t fame or fortune… those desires were always so much easier.

“A material object gives focus to desire,” she finally finished, finally gathering the confidence to look back into his eyes once more, “but it is fleeting. I know that all too well.”

For once Langdon was the one who was at a loss for words. The two could simply look at one another for a long moment until Em broke the silence. 

“May I ask you a question?”

He waved his hand for her to continue, “Why am I receiving a second interview before some residents have received their first?”

“Maybe I think you have potential.”

Em’s face twisted into a wry smile, “or you want me to think I do.”

She did have a way of making him laugh.

“You’re quite the character,” he admitted, leaning back as he chuckled, “it makes me wonder exactly what would happen if you let go.”

“Let go?”

“Of that anger boiling inside of you.”

There it was. The dropping of the pin. Langdon liked to get you comfortable before he shoved in the knife.

Once again, Em felt the need to edge around the statement. A sinner in church felt themselves being watched by a thousand eyes when the reality was not a single one was focused upon them. No. She’d watch her words until he accused her of conspiracy. She’d play it safe.

Langdon watched her become guarded. Hands once placed on either arm of the chair became centered on her lap, fingers twisted together. Green eyes dilated and he could see a muscle tense around her jaw.

“Momentary catharsis isn’t worth the consequences,” she noted.

“There are no laws anymore,” he noted, rounding the desk, “no rules. Chaos has won.”

Em shook her head, “don’t tempt me.”

If she hadn’t of known better she’d of said he looked… enthralled. There was an eagerness to his gaze. Langdon felt his heart leap in his chest. It was as if he was witnessing a phoenix rise from the ashes.

“You’re picturing it now, aren’t you?” he asked, “taking back the power Venable holds, leading a revolt to—”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Em noted, pulling back and leaning back into the chair in preparation to rise from it, “until the cards are in my favor I won’t move.”

His tone scared her as he continued to press and press a button she had been trying to ignore. It was like staring at a snake alone in the middle of the desert, unsure if its bite will simply hurt or turn your insides to mush. Either way, it was just the two of you. Even if you managed to wrangle it off you and cut off its head there was a chance you wouldn’t survive.

“Hold the cards too close to your chest and they will be wasted.”

He only moved slightly towards her and she jumped to her feet as if his mere presence was a blazing inferno. The buzzing feeling began again, spreading from her chest to her head and all the way out to her limbs. 

“I think we’re done here,” Em said, words rushing from her mouth before they could catch in her chest. She took a step back. His hands moved quickly, but his touch was light as he grabbed her arm. He pulled her towards him, just as gentle.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, voice almost soft as blue eyes searched into her green ones, “I’m on your side.”

She yanked her arm from his grasp. Em did not care for cages, gilded or covered with rust. Langdon’s eyes looked hurt as she pulled away, gaze going desperately between her face and her arm as if trying to understand why she pulled away.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” She snapped before leaving the room as quickly as her feet would carry her. Langdon simply stood still and let her go, hand slowly falling to his side.

In her desperation to flee, Em’s surroundings seemed to blur around her. She had tunnel-vision and all that mattered was getting as far away from Langdon as possible. What he made her feel… there were no words for it. She was terrified and excited all at once. It was like being on a roller-coaster, the adrenaline rush making you run into danger again and again. No. She wouldn’t run into the fire. She wouldn’t play hero.

“Woah!” a voice exclaimed, “slow down.”

Timothy stood in front of her, hands on either shoulder as he bent down to look her in her eyes. They were frantic, dilated, and unable to focus on anything.

“What happened?”

Movement over her shoulder caught his eye from somewhere down the hall. Langdon stood there, hands coming to rest behind his back as he eyed the pair. A noticeable frown was on the blond’s lips, eyes narrowing on Timothy’s hands on the woman’s shoulders. Timothy felt like he had interrupted something… probably for the better. He honestly couldn’t tell.

Finally noticing Timothy’s gaze, Em glanced over her shoulder to find nothing but a dark hall. She quickly righted herself, calming her breathing and nerves.

“Where’s Emily?” she asked, voice almost robotically even.

“In her room…” Timothy said, pulling his eyes from the dark hall, “why?”

Em shook her head, “You were right… something is wrong with Langdon... wrong with this entire fucking outpost. We need a plan sooner rather than later.” 

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

Hours later, Em couldn’t place why she had been so scared. When she looked at his face she just felt pain striking right at her chest and there was only a moment before the venom destroyed her from the inside out. 

Timothy and Emily had noted her distress, promising to brainstorm ideas and meet up later once things settled down. While Em had been the first to propose that they keep their ear to the pavement, the patience to do so was quickly thinning. 

There was something in Langdon’s eye… like he could see everything she had ever done or ever will do. It was like he knew exactly what they were doing.

Em paced her room, trying to keep her mind on the tangible instead of giving in to fear. A plan… she needed to figure out a plan. The Warden’s, Grey’s, and Venable were her best bet at getting a base-level understanding of how the outpost was run. She had tried talking to the Grey’s, but they either knew

Things just didn’t add up. Most of the residents, no matter their station, seemed in the dark about The Cooperative’s movements. Venable even seemed perplexed. There could be information in the woman’s room, but doing so would lead them to a quick death.

Their best bet would be to gather information from the Greys, scattered and benign as it may be. Emily was probably talking to them now as Em paced and paced. Going as a group would make them larger targets and more suspicious, but it was maddening to just sit and wait.

A knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. Em raced to hide her notes in her desk. Putting them all back in order was taking more time than she expected. Another knock came, harder and more urgent.

“Just a second!” Em sang, deciding to just shove all the papers in the desk and organize them later. Smoothing down her hair and straightening her skirt, Em stalked to the door and opened it.

There was momentary relief when she saw Coco, quickly replaced with dread when she realized exactly who was standing outside her door.

“Yes?” Em asked, leaning forward as she had one hand on the door and another on the frame. Coco had a sickly sweet smile on her face which could only mean one thing.

“I need your help.”

At least this time she hadn’t beat around the bush and wasted Em’s time with an hour conversation about doing makeup in horrible lighting. She stared at Em, an awkward silence falling between the pair.

“With?” Em finally asked.

Coco gave her a look, “my dress! Duh.”

Em’s eyes scanned over Coco’s dress, confusion marring her features as she looked back at the woman’s face, “what about it?”

“Not this one!” Coco exclaimed, rolling her eyes, “the purple one… well… the purpler one. I asked Mallory and she had no idea what to do but I saw you out here once with —”

“Coco,” Em said, voice like a teacher trying to get a rowdy student to sit in their seat, “what do you want?”

“Can you mend my dress?” Coco grabbed on to one of Em’s hands as she begged, “There’s a giant hole in my armpit and my interview with Langdon is in an hour. I swear I’ll put in a good word with him for you!”

Em pried her hand away from the woman and resisted the urge to groan. Taking a deep breath she weighed her choices. Finally, she let out a sigh, resigning herself to her fate and trying to be as nice as possible.

“I guess I have nothing better to do.”

A grin spread across Coco’s face and she took her hand once more, hardly giving Em a chance to lock her door before dragging her along. Coco was only nice when she wanted something. Em logically knew that. Yet, somehow, the girl reminded her of an old friend, rambling about this, that, and everything as she tugged her along to god knows where. If she stared at the back of Coco’s head for a moment she could pretend the blonde hair belonged to someone else.

Em quickly threw the trail of thought away. Last thing she needed was Coco spreading a story about how she cried over the woman’s pathetic attempts at being a decent human being. 

Coco threw open the door to her room and quickly shoved the garment into Em’s hand, shattering whatever illusion of kindness she had briefly created. “Here!”

“What side?” Em sighed, turning the garment around in her hands.

The blonde looked up as she thought, raising one arm, then the other as if recalling the exact moment it ripped.

“Never mind,” Em droned, “I found it.”

The hole was quite large, probably due to its poor fitting. It wasn’t as if they had someone take their measurements before they arrived at the outpost. It reached from the armpit to halfway between the sleeve and the waistline. Coco had gotten lucky, the tear following the natural stitching of the garment.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” Em asked, Coco hovering over her shoulder as she examined the damage.

“Do I look like I mend my own clothes?”

The brunette sighed once more, “get a Grey to bring me something, then.”

“Don’t you have your own tools or something?” Coco scoffed.

Em rose her eyes to look at the spoiled brat.

“When’s your interview?”

Coco huffed and went out into the hall, leaving the door open so the other woman would be sure to hear her stomping. For a moment there was glorious silence, Em examining the inside of the dress to figure out how to sew it up. After a few moments, a figure caught her eye and she looked up at the doorway.

Gallant stood, leaning against the frame with a box in one hand.

“What’s she having you do for her?” he asked.

“Mending clothes,” Em sighed, holding up the dress, “you here for her hair?”

“Yup,” Gallant said with a pop, moving to set up in the room, “Don’t know how many more miracles I can pull in that department.”

“A comment on your lack of supplies or an insult to Coco?”

The man paused, turning back towards her as he eyes the ceiling in thought, “Both?”

They could hear Coco’s stomping before they could see her, the woman appearing in the doorway with a scowl.

“Here’s your supplies,” she snapped before turning to Gallant. She mouthed something Em couldn’t hear, but Gallant’s silent response was comically easy to read as he mouthed the words “I know.”

Wearing a plastic smile she had learned from customer service, Em took the needle and thread from Coco’s hand and pulled out what she needed from the spool. 

“Did you get scissors?” Em asked as she looked around.

“No.”

Regretting her decision to help, the brunette turned to Gallant.

“Uh-uh,” He said, shaking a finger in front of him, “no way.”

“Just do it!” Coco snapped, falling back into a seat before her vanity.

With the grace of a sulking toddler, Gallant made his way towards Em, reluctantly cutting the thread. His frown persisted as he went back to deal with Coco’s hair.

“You owe me,” He grumbled. Em couldn’t tell if the statement was directed at herself or Coco.

“Did they ever figure out what caused that power out earlier?” Coco asked Gallant, the two quickly creating their own little bubble of which Em was not a part of. Not that she cared.

“Probably just some minor glitch,” Gallant dismissed, obviously not losing sleep over the issue.

“That’s hardly reassuring. My father paid millions to get us in here. You’d think they’d at least be able to keep it running smoothly.”

Gallant rose his hands, giving Coco a look in the mirror, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Coco didn’t even hear him, going on some random tirade Em quickly tuned out. What she wouldn’t do for a pair of noise-proof headphones.

Both Gallant and Em went into a trace as they worked. Em remembered when she was little and wanted to be a fashion designer, herself and another friend spending their elementary school lunchtime drawing out designs. Her grandmother had been more than happy to teach Em how to use her old and outdated sowing machine. Childlike enthusiasm led to it breaking. In the end, her grandmother was only able to teach her a few things before she passed… most of them with a needle, thread, and her own hands.

“Are you almost finished?” Coco demanded, pulling Em out of her train of thought as she paced the room like an angry chicken. Gallant followed after her, trying to keep his masterpiece in place. “He can’t finish until you’re finished.”

Em paid her no mind, turning back to her work and maintaining her steady pace, “do you want this to look like it was patched together by a drunken child?”

Coco huffed and stalked back to her seat, much to the relief of Gallant.

“I have twenty minutes…” she continued to complain.

“And the walk down the hallway takes five.” Em reminded.

Gallant was content to wait. He’d worked on models before back when he was first making his break and he was well used to clothing mishaps. Coco, on the other hand, glared daggers at Em as she worked. If she was being honest, Em quite enjoyed annoying the woman. It was comically easy to test just how spoiled she truly was.

Fifteen minutes passed and Em finally finished the last stitch, knotting the end a few times to keep it in place.

“Finally!” Coco exclaimed, not waiting for the pair to leave before changing. It wasn’t as if there was much to expose. Victorian undergarments were infinitely more modest than modern swimsuits. As soon as the dress was over her head, Gallant did a few last adjustments to her hair.

“Fini?” Coco asked, staring at the man as he focused on one stray strand. One would think he was diffusing a bomb given the intensity he looked at hair when working. Finally, he nodded and Coco was gone from the room in an instant without a single word of thanks.

“She’s a mess,” Gallant sighed, turning back to pack up his things.

“For once we agree on something.”

“Why did you agree to do this?” he asked, waving a comb as he continued to pack up, “aren’t you usually holed up in the library?”

“Bored.”

Gallant chuckled, “Fair.”

Rolling the loose thread back around the spool, Em made her way back to her room. Without the outside distraction, something to focus on, her mind went back to its earlier worries. She felt like she was staring at a brick wall, wondering how to tear it down when her only tools were her own two hands. If she got to the other side… maybe then she could find something.

Movement caught her eye as she turned a corner, looking up to find Langdon holding the door open for Coco. Something stirred in her chest and she turned away and kept walking before it could fester. Her cheeks warmed as she felt eyes burning into the side of her head.

Emotions were far too stressful. That’s why she liked logic. She just had to focus on the logic. Then she’d be safe.

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

There was nothing like the impending doom of death to make people do anything to chase away anxiety. Even after a solemn vow to never play the game again, they had brought their make-shift Pictionary once more. Bits of extra paper and a whiteboard from the Grey’s common area used to draw upon.

“Oh! Cats the musical!” Coco yelled out as Andre drew, “Horny!”

Timothy kept an eye on his pocket watch, finally looking up as he called time.

“Rosemary’s Baby!” Andre shouted at Coco, circling the spikes at the top of the head he was drawing, “They’re horns!”

Coco huffed and waved a hand as she fell back in her sleep, grabbing her water and taking a drink as Timothy’s eyes returned to his watch.

“Okay! He announced, “Emily and Emily!”

Em got up and reached into the box of folded cards, looking at the words written. Her lips twisted as she thought about how to approach it.

“Ready?” Timothy asked. Em nodded. “Go!”

Rapidly, Em drew a caricature on the white-board as Emily leaned forward in her seat.

“Dolly Parton!” Emily shouted after a few moments. Em threw down the pencil in victory, a large grin on her face.

“No fair!” Coco bemoaned, gesturing to the pair, “you have fucking Da Vinci on your team.”

“I was on your team last time.” Em reminded.

“That was ages ago!”

Em’s eyes flitted up to the balcony which loomed over the salon, a familiar figure in black catching her eye. The glow of the fire made it seem like his hair was made of gold. He leaned on the railing like a content cat watching the mice play.

She pretended she hadn’t noticed him but could feel his eyes on her back, the hairs on her neck standing on end as the buzzing feeling began to return.

“Okay, Timmy,” Gallant declared, rising from his seat to take the board from Em, “our time to shine.”

Her focus on the man watching them was interrupted by Timothy tossing her his pocket watch. If not for the way it caught the light Em would have let it drop.

When she looked up Langdon was gone as if he were a shadow instead of a man.

[ashley-incharge]

Beautiful Boy | Ashroo

The birth of Asher Gabriel DeRosa Armbruster. Dated: October 29th.

@littlemister-roo

Ashley:

Ashley A. was very much sick of being pregnant. She had kind of hoped that the baby would be born and ready to be cared for on her due date and she wouldn't have to fuss over maybe getting a Halloween costume together for her girls' party.

Honestly? Ashley wasn't sure that she really wanted to go. She was so tired, she was so heavy, and she was waddling everywhere, which quite frankly...was really embarrassing. At this point she didn't even really care about modesty when Roo came over to her place. She wasn't sexy as ballooned like a whale as she was.

She'd called him over to her place for help with her costume, having come up with the idea for Mother Earth not too long ago. She thought it was fitting. And...well, she really did want to love this kid well. So since she had acknowledged her lack of sexiness, she decided to just wait for Roo in her underwear, settling in the armchair they had gotten her for when the baby came. "It's about time you showed up."

Roo:

Roo was just as ready for the baby to arrive as Ashley was. Ok, maybe a little less since he wasn't the one physically dealing with all the craziness. But still! She was not comfortable or happy in this state and Roo wanted her to be relieved of that. Plus he was tired of the anticipation that plagued him these days as they waited to meet their son.

He'd agreed to come help her with her costume and, as had become the norm, he let himself into the apartment, barely giving it a second thought when he spotted her lounging in the overstuffed armchair in nothing but her underwear. He'd seen her naked plenty of times, and of course still thought she was gorgeous and sexy and all that jazz, but he was long past the blushing stumbling over himself idiot phase. He dropped his bag on the sofa and crossed his arms, smirking. "Aww, Princess! You didn't have to get all dressed up just for me!"

Ashley:

Ashley couldn't help but scoff. It was a little embarrassing that she had reached the point of not caring as to how she looked. Ashley had ALWAYS cared. Her looks had been part of her identity. 9 months pregnant with a baby really changed the way she looked at herself and beauty. Honestly the women who could still go overboard and be overdone and picture perfect all the time could rot in hell. Ashley would send them there.

She sat up a little more, a hand instantly moving down to press over her now massive stomach. She felt a little abrupt kick from the baby with that. Nice. Even he had to be sick of being in there. "Well you know there's no point in wearing anything if I'm going to have to get wrapped into the outfit. Besides, you've seen me naked several times. Not much point to get fancy here is there?"

Roo:

"I've always said that nude is a great color on you," Roo retorted with a wink. He didn't claim to understand how exactly she was feeling. She said things about how horrible she looked but he just couldn't see it. He thought she looked great, though he knew she didn't believe him when he said it.

He watched her touch the bump and could have sworn he saw the slight nudge. How cool was that? Roo was so ready to meet their son. All in good time, he supposed. "So, how can I help with this costume idea of yours? What do you need me to do?"

Ashley:

Ashley snorted. "I'm glad you think so." She didn't think she looked great at all. But at least he knew how to flatter her. Ashley enjoyed that, even when she was whale size. It made her feel slightly better.

"Well, I told you the concept was mother earth right? You're an artist. Help me make my stomach look like the earth." Ashley rubbed her thumb over her stomach. "I think it'll look amazing probably. Can you help me with that? Oh, and help me figure out how to wrap myself into the outfit too."

Roo:

Roo nodded, remembering the conversation they'd had about her costume idea. He'd been curious when she asked him to bring some of his paints, but he understood now. Moving closer, he examined her belly and glanced over to the long flowy fabric she had selected, thoughtul. "Hmm...yeah. I definitely think I could do that and it will even look pretty cool in the end."

He sat on the arm of the chair and reached over to run his hand over the baby bump, meeting her eye. "Did you want to do a test run now?"

Ashley:

"It better look cool. That's what I need you for here." Ashley wanted the paint to look good on her stomach. It was the only reason she was willing to expose her horribly gigantic stomach to the world. Painting it and making it part of a concept.

She couldn't help but laugh as the baby kicked at the hand running over her stomach. "Yes. I want to make sure it'll work. And that it turns out nice. Obviously. If it doesn't work I'm trying something else for my girls' party."

Roo:

"I'm hurt that you doubt my skills, Princess," Roo scoffed. "Of course it'll look cool!" He already had an idea of how he wanted it to look forming in his mind. He dug in his bag, pulling out a palette of skin safe paints —she'd mentioned needing his art skills for her costume and he'd assumed it might involve face painting and had prepared accordingly. Belly painting wasn't too far off he supposed.

He grinned widely at the nudge against his hand. "I think baby boy is excited to get dressed up too," he laughed. "But sure, let's do this. I think this palette has everything we'll need."

Ashley:

"I doubt because I haven't really seen much of your art in practice. And I want this to look extra good. I'm exposing my stomach for this." Something that Ashley was still self-conscious about, even if she did think she had to be the hottest pregnant girl out there. Her new boss was probably somewhat close in scale, but still not Ashley.

"That or he just wants out. He's overstaying his welcome in there," Ashley remarked with a sigh, rubbing her hand over her stomach as if to tell the boy to settle down. "Okay...let's get started then. You know how the earth looks well enough right?"

Roo:

"Sure, sure," Roo scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. As if she hadn't pawed through his sketch book nor had she invited him to her house to paint a mural of her on the wall. "Painting your belly will be my magnum opus, don't you worry." He opened a small jar of blue paint and dipped a soft makeup sponge into the gooey liquid before bringing it back to her belly. "This will be a bit cold at first," he warned.

"You're probably right," he agreed. "He's been in there a bit too long hasn't he? And yes, I know what the earth looks like. I even know its round and everything." He began smudging streaks of cerulean blue over the curve of her belly, trying not to smirk too much at the fact he was pretty sure she was taking her lack of self confidence out on him.

Ashley:

Ashley snorted. "So just like that stupid gel they use for ultra sounds." She hated that goo, but that and this paint were there for a purpose at least. She could deal with things she didn't like for that. She was going to look great for her girls party. Or at least, the best she could when she felt heavy as hell and looked like a whale.

"He's been in here way too long Roo. At this point I'm ready to try everything to try to get him out of there." She had seriously been considering dragging Roo into bed with her again even, because she really really wanted this kid out. She takes a breath and lets it out again, watching Roo carefully and making a face as her kid knocked against the point where Roo started painting.

Roo:

"I believe you," Roo smiled crookedly though he kept his eyes on his work. He sure seems to be taking his sweet time. "My mom had some suggestions on ways to maybe get him moving, but I don't think you'd like any of them." He glanced up briefly to shoot her a smirk before focusing back on the paint.

"You really should get a move on, buddy," he murmured at the little nudge against his hand. "We are all dying to meet you and your mum is getting grouchier the longer you stay in there." He winked playfully up at Ashley before putting the finishing strokes on the blue and pulling out the green to start painting the continents.

Ashley:

Ashley couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what suggestions might those be?" Honestly being half a week over her due date was already driving her crazy. She was pretty sure she'd be willing to do just about anything to get things going.

Just then, Ashley felt a sharp pain ripple over her stomach, and she had to suck in a breath, taking a moment to process the pain before it eased up again. Ow. "Well...he's trying to make me grouchier with all these false alarms," Ashley grumbled, almost reaching down to rub her stomach to ease it a little before remembering the paint and dropping her hands again.

"At least I have a look for my girls' party."

Roo:

"Well, maybe suggestion is the wrong word. More like she was listing off things that are known to work....you know. Like going for a walk, jumping on a trampoline, eating spicy food...or, my personal favorite, sex." Roo waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

At her flinching, however, his teasing shifted to concern. "Are you sure you're ok? Those jabs seem to be coming more often."

Ashley:

"Ahh...I did know about most of those. Sex is...well you know I was considering it. Desperate times and all." Even now she debated over the merit of it, because she was sick and tired of this baby being in her.

She sucked in another breath and let it out again. "Of course. I...you know it was like this last time we freaked out, and it was all for nothing." Admittedly she didn't think it was as sharp a pain, but it wasn't as frequent as she thought it would be if it were real labor.

Roo:

Roo pursed his lips but didn't say anything. Unless she was in serious pain or something crazy happened, he didn't want to force the issue. He had to trust that she knew her body better than he did. Instead, he focused on painting Europe, Africa and Asia across her belly.

"There..." he said finally. "It's a bit rough, but I think it's enough that you get the idea. We can go for more detail with the final if you want." He paused. "So...what do you think?"

Ashley:

Ashley grunted as the baby kicked at Roo's hand again. The kicks were a lot less fun now that their kid had no room in there. It just hurt. Or maybe her body was still protesting the braxton hicks. Either way, she still felt a little tense as he finished the painting. Ashley stood and made her way toward the mirror to inspect it.

"You know...it's not so bad. I mean it makes my stomach actually look pretty good like this." She was careful not to smudge the paint, though she did place a gentle hand over the spot the baby kicked this time. This one was around Africa. "Okay. Let's try and see if we can wrap me in the rest of it. See how it fits."

Roo:

Roo grinned at the very Ashley sort of compliment. Coming from her, "it's not so bad" was high praise in his book. Nodding, he plucked up the length of fabric, unfolding it and examining what he had to work with.

"Hmmm..." he mused. "I think if we drape it over your shoulder like this and kind of twist it—" it was a challenge to cover the important bits while leaving her belly exposed, and it took a few tried, but eventually it worked out. And looked pretty good if he did say so himself.

"There." He grinned. "It suits you. Now all you need is a flower crown or something to tie it all together and the look will be complete."

Ashley:

Ashley hummed. "I think it definitely works. Was seriously determined to not have my baby bump turned into something terrible like some people do." She had googled a few things...it wasn't pretty.

She felt another sharp pain, and she had to suck in another breath as she focused on breathing through it. That wasn't nice. But at least she was done up pretty and she had something for the party. Ashley was good. She was great.

"Anyway, I think this is a great costume. I'm sure I'll dazzle everyone. though I do think it'll be a short night for me."

Roo:

Roo could only imagine what "creative" costume ideas were out there and was glad he hadn't really explored the possibilities. Ashley knew what she wanted and that was enough for him. And self centered as she could be, she was right. She looked amazing and would probably have the most stunning costume at the party. Roo intended to make sure of it.

"Are you sure you're ok?" He asked, tensing at her sharp intake of breath.. He didn't want to be a pain but he was on edge these days. The baby was late so he could come literally any minute now. "I only ask because your gasps of pain seem to be getting closer together by the minute."

Ashley:

Ashley bit her lip, focusing on steadying her breath again. That really did hurt. "I..." She wasn't one hundred percent sure. But she also hadn't been timing it to figure out whether or not it was real contractions with a real gap in time and how long they lasted. If they wanted to know for sure they would have to do that.

She didn't want to do that. "I don't know. I think there's something about timing it to see if it's real right? I remember reading that in one of those labor books." She started glancing for the book she had read the most, trying to find the pages on active labor.

"I mean it hurts but I really...I really don't know how to tell that it's real or another false alarm."

Roo:

Roo's heart jumped in his chest. Could it be time? How would he know if Ashley didn't even know. He wracked his brain trying to remember every bit of birthing information his mother had lectured him on in the past few weeks and was coming up with a lot of chaotic random bits of information in his nervous state.

"Umm...maybe it's time to call the doctor? I bet they might be able to help us figure it out?" Roo swallowed hard. It was so hard to know what to do!

Ashley:

Ashley hummed. "It might be. I just...we definitely need to be timing it Roo." That much she had read about. Often it could last a while before it was intense enough to go to the hospital. "Okay yeah. Let's call and I can set a timer so I can see how much time we have. Will you call the doctors then? I want to make sure I can pay attention to...ahh. How far apart they are."

Roo:

Roo nodded and pulled out his phone, trying not to let his hands shake as he pulled up the doctor's number and dialed. It was still during business hours so the secretary answered the phone and Roo explained the situation. He listened and answered a few questions before thanking the woman and ending the call.

"She said to call them and head to the hospital when the contractions are 4 minutes apart." He watched her anxiously as she watched the clock. "So? How far apart are they?"

Ashley:

Ashley sucked in a breath and let it out again. "I mean...it feels like it's been happening more now that you're here but it's...hmm." She glanced at her timer, studying where she'd paused it. "I think around 6 minutes? But that's crazy. I mean I've been feeling it more sporadically all day. Not this close together." She sucked in a breath as another contraction hit her, gripping onto a chair near her. "Okay maybe...maybe 5."

Roo:

Roo grimaced sympathetically as the contraction hit her. He thought through the checklist of things the hospital class had tried to teach him. What should they do while they wait for the time gap to close? "Er..." he chewed his lip, squinting. "Do you have your hospital bag packed? Maybe we could do that and while we wait for the next contraction?"

Ashley:

Ashley forced herself to straighten up a little, waddling in the direction of her bedroom to grab her hospital bag. "I...yeah I've had it packed for...for a while now." She eyed the bag that she'd set aside on the floor and grimaced. "Can you grab it Roo? I think actually trying to pick that up would be suuuuuch a pain."

As she glanced at the bag she felt another sharp shooting pain and groaned, a hand going over her freshly painted stomach. "Ow. Ow that one really really hurt." She grimaced. "Shouldn't we be heading out? What if the time shortens really quickly? I am not having this baby-" She paused as she felt a bit of wetness between her legs. "Oh. Well my...my water broke. Thought that'd happen sooner."

Roo:

Roo's eyes widened. Oh crap. It was happening. It was really time! He hurried forward to grab the bag as she asked. "Yeah, lets go. I'll call the cab—" They usually walked to their appointments at the hospital, but he thought that might be a bit too far for a woman about to have a baby literally any second. He called the cab as he rested a hand on her lower back.

"Ok, it'll be here in just a few minutes. We should probably wait outside. You doing ok?"

Ashley:

"Good. Yes. There's a better idea." There was no way in hell Ashley was walking to the hospital when each contraction felt like...a pain in her lower abdomen. Shit. Shit this baby was really coming now. She joked about it, and she complained about it, but now that it was here? Well...Ashley was still bloody terrified.

"Am I doing okay?" She echoed in disbelief. And okay, maybe Ashley had a tendency for the dramatic, but she was in labor and experiencing pain, and the idiot that had helped her get pregnant was asking if she was okay. Absolutely not! "Of course not! This is insane!" She grimaced as another intense contraction hit her, bending over a little. "Ahh. They're coming a lot more intensely now. That cab better get here really fast."

Roo:

"Right, stupid question. Sorry." Roo chuckled nervously. He knew she was hurting, but what else could he say? He didn't know so he'd said the first thing that popped up, which had clearly irritated her.

Trying to keep his mind from panicking, he focused on helping her out the door, securing it behind them. When they made it to the edge of the road, he checked his watch and looked both ways as if it might make the cab get there sooner. "Geez. This is a small town, where could that damn cab be?"

Ashley:

Ashley wanted to kill Roo a little. She was in pain, and it was easy to want to blame him for it for putting her in this mess. Though she too had done it to herself. If her mother hadn't tried to make her decisions for her...but that was neither here nor there. Their baby was on his way.

"Are you serious? It's not here yet?" Ashley groaned, reaching out to grip onto Roo's shoulder. "Don't take this personally...but I kind of want to kill you. Ow. Ow ow."

Roo:

"Don't take this personally, but if you kill me then who else will you complain to about all of this stuff?" Roo may have snapped back, but he also cringed knowing that the was hurting. He knew that he wasn't even close to solely responsible for what she was going through, but he also wasn't dumb enough to go down that road, so he contented himself with a bit of snark.

"Cab probably got turned around by the stupid magic—oh wait! Here they are!" Roo pointed to the car pulling up and ran to get the door for her, letting her slide in first and getting in after her, instructing the driver to take them to the hospital. Thankfully the driver seemed to be looking for an excuse to speed through the town and took their urgency seriously.

Ashley:

Ashley glowered at him. "Are you really going to give me attitude now? Now?! I will literally strangle you!" No she wouldn't. But the contractions were coming on strong and painful, and Ashley was leaning more and more towards anger and yelling to try to get through it. If he knew how much this hurt, Roo would get it too.

She slid into the cab, groaning as another sharp pain rippled over her. "We better get there quickly. I want all the damn drugs to take this pain away."

Roo:

Roo had two choices. Choice number one, continue to be lippy and snip back at Ashley, possibly risking his own life in doing so. Or choice number two, drop the attitude and allow himself to be overwhelmed by panic. He preferred choice number one.

"And then you'll be stuck doing all this stuff by yourself," he retorted. "You may hate me, Princess, but I don't think you want to do this alone." A breath passed before he added, "Don't worry. We'll be there soon! It'll be ok..."

Ashley:

Ashley didn't want to be logicked in that moment. Not even a little bit. And the sharper and quicker the labor pains were coming, the less tolerant Ashley was for him sassing her back. "I will punch you in the face. See if I don't."

He was too much of a goodie goodie to leave her here anyway. That much she was certain of. She sucked in another shaky breath as the next contraction had her contorted, gripping onto the car door. "Fuck."

Roo:

Roo knew he should probably tone down the snark, he really did. Ashley was in a lot of pain and it was half his fault. But it was really hard when Ashley was threatening violence.  Besides, he sort of thought keeping her mad might be a good strategy to help her get through this. A distraction, of sorts.

So he snorted. "Well, that's just rude don't you think? What did I do to deserve getting punched in the face?" He half wondered what the cab driver thought of them. Thankfully they were almost there, just a few more blocks to go.

Ashley:

Ashley scowled. "Are you bloody serious right now?" Did Roo honestly think that she cared about how rude she was being? Of the two of them, who was delivering a baby? That's right. It was Ashley A., doing all the damn work.

She grit her teeth as the next contraction hit, groaning as the car hit a bump in the road. This was going to be awful. The cab finally pulled up in front of the hospital, and Ashley tried to straighten herself a little and grimaced. "I'm...ahh I hate to admit it but I'm going to need help. These contractions are coming on so fast and intensely and it's hard to even think through them, let alone do anything else."

Roo:

Roo had never felt such mixed emotions before. He was equal parts terrified to jump into the unknown, worried for Ashley and the baby, and annoyed that she was sniping at him in spite of everything they'd been through together. His instincts insisted he should snipe right back, but then she hissed with pain and he was back to the brink of panicking.

"Yeah, I gotcha—" he said quickly, slipping out his side of the car and hurrying over to help her up, slipping an arm around her shoulders to support her as he carefully pulled her until she was standing. "We just need to get to the front desk, the secretary said they should be expecting us."

Ashley:

"Oh thank god." Ashley stumbled out of the car with him, leaning her weight heavily against him as someone came around with a wheelchair to help bring her in so she wouldn't have to be using him for support the whole time. She didn't even think he could hold her and the weight of the baby up for that long.

Another contraction hit and she found herself bending over, swearing a string of curses. "They're so close together. They're not far apart at all anymore." That couldn't be good right? After all, Ashley still needed help with the pain, and to be checked out and everything. The baby couldn't be coming this fast. She needed him to wait just enough that she could be properly drugged up.

She could feel the baby pushing down heavier though, and her heart started picking up speed. "We...we need to hurry. I think. Roo...can you...do we need to check in?"

Roo:

For the record, Roo was stronger than he looked. That didn't mean he wasn't grateful for the wheelchair, however, considering it was probably slightly more comfortable (and safer) for Ashley than trying to stumble through the doors. He was thankful the orderly was there to help seeing as he was feeling super shaky at the moment.

The tone of her voice didn't help. He could tell she was just as scared as he was and that actually kind of freaked him out. If the strongest girl he knew was scared, that was saying something. He nodded, hurrying alongside the wheelchair as they went through the automatic doors leading to the main lobby of the hospital and made a beeline for the front desk.

The receptionist looked up expectantly as Roo explained their situation. "Um...hi. Er—I-I'm Romeo Derosa and this is Ashley Armbruster. Doctor Hayes is expecting us." He paused, glancing down at Ashley who had tensed up with another contraction before adding. "We're having a baby. Like. Right now." He knew he sounded like an idiot. Obviously Ashley was having a baby, but he'd felt the need to explain something, so he did.

Ashley:

An orderly came around and started pushing Ashley toward one of the hospital rooms. Ashley's grip on the side of the wheelchair was painfully tight, and she only really let go when the orderly helped her up and helped her change out of the damn Mother Earth robes and into a hospital gown.

"How far apart are the contractions now?" A nurse asked as she came in to assist and help Ashley climb into the bed. Ashley blew out a pained breath, a pained groan escaping her with the next contraction. "Ahh...they...they can't be more than 2 minutes apart now. They're...ow. They're really close together."

The nurse was careful but quick in asking Ashley to part her legs and let her have a look, humming as she stepped away. "Yes, it looks like you're about ready to push sweetheart." Ashley's head jerked up at that. "W-What? No I...I need the drugs...the painkillers. I'm not ready."

"Oh honey. Your body seems more than ready to get that baby out. We can't administer anything now. I'll just go and fetch the doctor and we'll get to it." Ashley shook her head. "No no no you don't understand. I had a plan, and that plan was alll the drugs that I could possibly be allowed! Roo! Roo you tell her I need them!"

Roo:

It was—time to push? Roo's brain went numb at the statement. It was...time! Oh god. IT was time! And without the medication—oh crap. Ashley was not going to be happy about that.

"Er—are you sure?" he asked, swallowing hard. "Is there any way we could, I don't know. Give her the medication real quick?"

He cringed away from the sharp look the nurse gave him. "That baby is coming whether you all are ready or not. There isn't time for the medication to take effect. Now scrub up!” She gestured to the nearby sink and the folded hospital gown on the counter.

Ashley:

Shit.

Shit shit shit. Ashley was not ready for this. She had never been ready for this, but now here in the moment...she felt absolutely petrified. 9 whole months and she still didn't feel she was fully prepared for the baby she was having. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

She thought about her own mother, and how likely it was that Emily Armbruster had simply had a c-section and been as distant from her kid as possible. She thought about that and she thought about how badly she wanted to prove to be different.

Ashley groaned, slumping against the bed for a moment as the doctor and the nurse busied themselves down by her crotch...a disturbingly humbling experience. She groaned and reached for Roo with one hand. "Get over here Romeo."

Roo:

Roo quickly did as the nurse said, scrubbing his hands and slipping on the hospital gown over his clothes. They were having a baby. Like right now. He couldn't get over it. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the scene unfolding behind him.

When Ashley reached for him, demanding he come over, he immediately went to her. Taking her hand, he squeezed it. "I—I don't know what to say that doesn't sound like some stupid platitude or whatever. But I'm here. You can yell at me all you want." He tried to smile in an encouraging sort of way but worried he was just too nervous.

Ashley:

"I will kill you!" Ashley shouted, a blatant lie, but it felt good to yell because nothing else was feeling good here. It hurt like hell and it was partially his fault. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could as the doctor finally looked up. "Alright now. Ms. Armbruster, as soon as you feel the urge to push start pushing. We'll tell you when to ease up."

Ashley took as deep breaths as she could manage, gripping onto Roo's hand tighter. This was really happening. Ashley was really about to have a baby. She leaned forward, chin tucked in as she started to bear down and push, crying out as she worked with the contraction.

"That's it. You're doing great. Again."

She shouted a string of curses as she leaned forward once again to push along with her contraction until the doctor said to stop and she let herself slump back in exhaustion for a moment. "I hate this. I hate this."

Roo:

Roo flinched when she shouted, but immediately had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Of course Ashley's go to was to threaten him bodily harm. At least that had stayed consistent, if a bit more intense in the current circumstances.

"That's it, Princess," he murmured, letting her squeeze his hand as tight as she wanted. He clung to her hand, a physical reminder he was there for her. "You got this."

When she slumped back against the bed, her reached with his free hand to brush damp strands of hair from her eyes. "At least you're costume is on point considering you're literally going to be a mother when this is all done." He knew the joke was stupid and expected her to either laugh or try and kill him with a glare. Either way, it was a distraction and distractions were exactly what was needed.

Ashley:

Ashley glared at him for a long minute. "My costume would always have been on point. That was literally the purpose of it." She knew Roo was trying to help, though if she set him in her position and let him experience the pain she was feeling, she was sure he would understand her general murderous thoughts.

She straightened up to push again, letting out a furious yell as she did it, gripping Roo's hand so tight that it had to hurt as she tried to go with the contraction. "That's it. Almost there. Baby's starting to crown. Don't sit back now."

Ashley groaned, taking shallow quick breaths to try to fight through the burn and the pain of the baby's head. "Almost...okay...okay. Fuck. Ahhhhhh" She howled as she pushed again, the doctor stepping forward to gently catch the head as it came from her body. "That's it. One more big push..."

She cursed more than she had in her entire life as she gave one final big effort and pushed their baby out of her body. She fell back with a slump, struggling to catch her breath even as the doctors wiped at the baby. A moment later Ashley heard a sharp cry. That was it. She had her baby.

Roo:

Ohmygod. OHMYGOD. Oh. My. God.

It was happening. Roo couldn't believe it was really happening. He was torn between keeping his attention on Ashley and watching what was going on at the other end of the bed. He heart was thundering in his throat to the point he barely registered that his hand was near breaking point beneath the pressure of her squeeze.

"That's it. That's it. Almost there..." he was fully watching the doctor now and could catch a glimpse of the tiny body entering the world. He was speechless as he watched the nurse clean the baby, turning his attention back to Ashley, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "You did it!" he croaked, his voice caught in his throat. "He's perfect."

Ashley:

"I did it" Ashley agreed in a bit of a daze, shuddering as she struggled to catch her breath again. She sat up a little as the doctor and nurse finished with the baby, cutting the umbilical cord and stepping forward to offer the baby, their baby Asher to her.

Ashley saw her vision start to blur as they gently set Asher into her arms, cradling him to her chest as she sniffled and took her first look at her son. He was....well actually he was kind of gross looking, cleaned off but still sort of wrinkly and pink in a way. But gross looking or not, he was her kid, and a swell of warmth spread through her at the sight of him.

"He is perfect. Has perfect little toes and...and fingers....wow."

Roo:

Roo smiled hugely as Ashley took their the baby into her arms. He really was perfect, weird, wet, wrinkly skin and all. He reached, gently brushing a single finger over his son's head. As scary as the unknown of whatever comes next was, he was insanely happy at the moment. He had a son. They had a son.

"Wow is right, Just look at him!" Roo breathed. "Amazing."

He glanced at Ashley, his smile going crooked. "So, did you decide on his name yet?

Ashley:

"Of course." Ashley glanced down at the baby and smiled. "His name is Asher." She had known that she wanted that name for months now. It was a long time in coming, but here he was. Asher DeRosa Armbruster.

She leaned over to press a soft kiss to the baby's head before drawing away and looking over at Roo. "Do you want to pick a middle name? I'm feeling semi generous right now. Oh...and hold him too?"

Roo:

Roo pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling aloud. He wasn't sure why he was surprised that she'd given their baby an almost Ashley kind of name.

Nodding, he reached to gently take little Asher from her arms, supporting his head just the way they'd been taught in the parenting class. "Hmmm..." he hummed. "Maybe Gabriel? Asher Gabriel deRosa?" He rocked his son carefully as he looked into his tiny face. "I think he has your nose." He grinned over at Ashley.

Ashley:

"Gabriel? Hmm...I actually don't hate that." She could accept that. It was his middle name anyhow. Not as if they would use it much. Unless the kid was a troublemaker.

A tired smile spread across her face. "Darn right he does. Lucky for him. I think he's got your chin."

Roo:

"Glad to hear you don't hate it." Roo smiled, peering a bit more closely at her. The circles under her eyes were dark. She was exhausted. He looked down at their son once more, smiling at the tiny boy in his arms. Asher made a big yawn, his eyes blinking slowly. How could one child steal his heart so completely?

"I'm happy to report that we make cute babies together, " he chuckled quietly. "But seriously, you both should probably get some rest. He's already starting to fall asleep."

Ashley:

"A cute baby. Don't get any other wild ideas here," Ashley quipped tiredly. She let herself lean against the pillows of the hospital bed. "I don't want him on his own though in his little bed thing. Keep an eye on him would you?"

Roo:

"Of course, Princess. You can count on me," Roo grinned, happy for the excuse to continue holding their tiny baby boy as he settled into the chair. "Just rest. You deserve it."

Ashley:

"Great. I'm only closing my eyes for a little while." She mumbled, progressively drifting even as she said it until she passed out in the bed, utterly exhausted by the process of having their kid.

[purplesurveys]

1063

survey by pinkchocolate

Have you done any of the same things as me this year? (2020 edition)

Planned a shopping spree with a friend?

Visited a shopping centre/mall? Malls are extremely commonplace here and honestly they already serve as the main tourist attractions if you find yourself in Manila, which is why Manila has never been a popular tourist destination itself (foreign tourists usually head to neighboring provinces, which is smart on their end). I’ve been to malls at least 20-30 times this year, but that’s only because of the pandemic. I probably go close to 50-70 times in a normal year.

Had lunch with a friend? Yeah I caught lunch with Angela a couple times at the start of the year. I had a one-photo-a-day gimmick on Instagram, and I’m pretty sure I have a photo of her in there during one of our lunch dates.

Ordered pizza at a restaurant? Again, at the start of the year. Gab and I loved Italian restaurants so we definitely ordered pizza several times.

Been in a department store? I needed to briefly enter one a couple of weeks ago to look for gift wrappers.

Bought pretty new lingerie?

Had coffee with a friend? Yeah Gab and I had study dates at coffee shops every single week. Now, obviously, I just take myself.

Bought DVDs?

Had a cold?

Bought toiletries as a gift for someone else?

Had dinner in a restaurant with your family? Yeah I’m fairly certain we did this at least a couple of times between January and early March. The last time I dined in anywhere was a month ago, but I was only with my parents and my siblings didn’t come along.

Had one of your kitchen appliances break? Our plumbing is a little fucked in general and sometimes we’ll have minor leaks on the floor. My dad’s knives have also gotten a bit dull, so I got him a new knife set for Christmas. But no damage to appliances.

Watched a movie at the cinema?

Struggled for food when the panic buying began? We struggled in that it was a bitch to enter the groceries at first. My dad did the grocieries for us during that time and that was back when they strictly enforced the number of people allowed in the supermarket at one time; and no matter how early he queued, there was always already a line that got there before him. He’d wait around three hours and once he was finally let in, a bunch of alleys or sections in the grocery would already be empty or at least close to becoming empty. We never went hungry or had to skip meals or anything like that, but I do remember having to make do with lesser-known brands we never used before because sometimes those would be the only options left at the grocery.

Wanted to hug a friend, but didn't because you had to social distance? I hugged Angela when I saw her a couple of days ago, and I also hugged Gab when we were still together. 

Felt afraid of Covid? My fears over it have tamed over the year, to be honest; but I’m still wary, of course. I hate it when people stand near me and I follow the safety protocols everywhere I go.

Felt afraid to leave the house? Only during the peak of the virus, from March to around May or June. Nowadays I kinda have to go out every now and then for the sake of my sanity.

Deliberately avoided watching the news because it made you feel upset? I mean I took up journ lol so I always watch the news, no matter how upsetting it can get. The one and only time I remember asking my sister to switch the channel was when there was a report on animal abuse.

Had to cancel plans for your birthday? I didn’t have plans for it in the first place, or at least I didn’t have the chance to make them yet, so I’m glad there was nothing to cancel.

Spent your birthday at home? This was the only choice I had. My birthday fell on the most serious and strictest phase of the quarantine, and this was back when nothing was open yet.

Collected a parcel from your doorstep? Online shopping is a norm for me now, lol. I used to not trust it, but now I probably buy at least one item a week.

Eaten an entire box of chocolates in one day? I don’t even like chocolate that much. That sounds so uncomfortably sweet.

Drank fruit flavoured cider?

Eaten birthday cake? Sure, we had cake for my mom’s, my aunt’s, and my cousin’s/godson’s birthdays.

Had a grandparent move into long-term care? My remaining grandparents are all fortunately still very healthy.

Kept a journal of your thoughts and feelings during lockdown? This is technically it, whether’s there’s a lockdown or not. I tried starting a journal after my breakup, but I couldn’t keep it up because my wrist strains easily from handwriting now, hahaha. I find that doing surveys suffice.

Had distressing dreams/nightmares related to the pandemic? No, but about other pressing events in my life.

Felt concerned about your financial situation? Not mine but my family’s.

Returned to a social platform that you took a break from? I left Facebook for a few months after the breakup. I’m back on it again because I had missed the memes, but I also want to permanently delete that account for good, open a new one, and just add the people I want to keep having in my circle. Like I love Gabie’s family to death but I don’t see the point in being Facebook friends with them still, and it actually feels kinda awkward now still seeing them on my list. Idk. We’ll see. I might keep my account or start a new one altogether.

Missed a past hobby or interest? I mean I missed going to malls and bars and going out with my friends, if that counts as an interest. I had to do much less of that this year.

Started a new hobby? I started doing embroidery about a month ago, and a few days ago I started working out. My body is as sore as all fuck, but at least it makes me feel good about myself. For the new year, I also plan on starting a skincare routine after 22 years of not doing anything with my face lol and maybeeee start experimenting with coffee and buy different kinds of beans just because?? Idk, I have a lot of cute hobbies planned out for next year haha I’m excited to see how it goes.

Joined some new Facebook groups? Both for work and personal purposes, yep.

Made some new friends online? I definitely like that I’ve become closer and more familiar with the survey community here. I feel like I barely interacted with anyone pre-Covid, when real life was still a bit more hectic and when it was more difficult to find time to relax and sit down and read everyone’s answers. I also became friends with Justine, Angel, and Bianca when I started as an intern at my workplace.

Felt annoyed because you saw someone without a mask? Everyone wears a mask in public, and there are always people assigned to monitor and lightly scold those stubborn enough to take their masks off. So this isn’t the case, but what I do find annoying is when people stand or walk too close to you. Just last week at the grocery this lady was close enough to be breathing down my neck when I was lining up at the cashier; being non-confrontational for the most part, it felt like being in the deepest pit of hell.

Felt like people were staring at you when you wore a mask? I feel like people are more likely to stare at people who DON’T have a mask. 

Bought new stationery? My sister has tons of stationery in her room for whatever reason; when I need one to write short notes or letters, I just ask for some from her. 

Video-called your extended family and friends? For sure. We did this a lot especially during the earlier parts of the year.

Written a letter to someone you missed?

Disagreed with the behaviour of a friend?

Felt surprised when someone wanted to be your friend? No one directly said it to me; but as an intern on my first day of the job, it was a really pleasant surprise to find that the co-interns I was going to be with weren’t boring, unemotional cogs who just aimed to do work. They were HILARIOUS from the get-go, was confused as fuck about work, and I could see they just wanted to make our tiny intern family a close-knit and happy group, to which I gladly agreed and went along with.

Bought a new pair of shoes? I got new shoes meant for my first job interview, but I haven’t gotten any brand new sneakers in a while :(

Replaced some toiletries that you ran out of during lockdown? I guess? Toiletries are necessities, so.

Bought some new books? I read new ones, but I didn’t buy them. Some I saw copies of on the internet; one was given as a gift to me.

Bought new cosmetics? I don’t use those.

Received a belated birthday present?

Received a present from a friend overseas?

Discovered a new author that you liked?

Felt like you were drifting away from people you were once close to? *A person. Yeah, well.

Found out that someone you knew had contracted Covid?  She’s a mutual friend from my high school days. We aren’t close but we’ve kept in touch by still following each other on social media. She wrote about her experience with Covid on a blog entry.

Realised you had formed a deep connection with someone? I got a lot closer with Andi both because we had to work together for our thesis and because they were there for me, unconditionally and untiringly, when I was coping with my breakup and was in rough shape.

Worried about the financial situation of someone close to you? Of my family, like I said, yes. We had to sell the Vitara because the money that pours into the household monthly isn’t enough to keep paying for it. To be fair, that car was a very big impulse buy by my dad, so we didn’t and don’t feel too bad about losing it hahaha. 

Let your guard down to someone? I don’t think so. I was on red alert this year since Gab increasingly broke my trust.

Had an issue with something on social media? Yeah, but I don’t want to get into it. That was such a long time ago and is so irrelevant now.

Felt disconnected from others? I deliberately did so three months ago, so much so that I had acquaintances I barely talked to since graduating talk to Andi and ask where I’ve been.

Changed your internet provider? We’ve had the same one for like 8-9 years now. It works pretty okay for five people who stream videos all day, so we haven’t felt the need to switch.

Felt fortunate/thankful? I mean I’m here, scar-less, and happy with myself on December 31, 2020, right?

Tried some new foods that you enjoyed? Baked sushi is so fucking good.

Re-read a book that you loved? Crazy Is My Superpower by AJ Mendez (aka my favorite girl wrestler, AJ Lee) is always a good read to come back to.

[writersmacchiato]

For The Better | Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe

Prompt: “I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.”

Warnings: n/a

———

His eyes bore into you; a weight that almost has you buckling. A glance over would reveal the fire behind his blue eyes. Lighting them up darkly, lips twisted down.

The British medic continued to amble on, easily making smalltalk as you went over the inventory. It was a welcome relief when a supply had been dropped into town, the stock had been running dangerously low, and you were put in charge of organizing it with the help of Private Will Barkley, a medic for the British army.

He was friendly, a change of pace from the brooding that had become the norm, smiling easily as he introduced himself.

“I’ve already met Doc Roe over there.” He nods to the aforementioned man, turning his gaze back to you. “But, I have been wanting to meet Nurse Y/N.”

“Oh, really?”

“Best damn nurse in the company,” he grins, “so I heard.”

“I do my best.” you feel heat creep up your cheeks.

You feel Gene behind you, arms crossed. His throat clears quietly, and when you look back, his face is impassive.

“We should get started.” You motion to the crates and pallets, taking up over half the room.

“Right,” Barkley nods, blinking suddenly as if waking up from a trance. “Right...“

The day passed by, with a silent Roe and a chatty Barkley. It had been nice, at first, having someone to fill the empty air with. But, you soon felt a creeping prickle in the base of your head. Headache forming with every word that flew from the Private’s mouth. Working with Eugene...

He was quiet, shy even, not saying much if there wasn’t a need to. You almost thought he disliked you, replies short and glances icy. Until the day, much like this, when you were stuck doing inventory with him. He had melted, ironically, under the cold eaves of the tent.

The rumble of trucks could be heard, splashing water as they ambled by. It’s white noise against the flutter of papers and the scuffle of boxes.

Roe clears his throat, slipping past you to open the last remaining crate. His fingers are nimble, quick as he unpacks the morphine and bandages.

“Yes!” It’s a quiet cheer to himself.

Looking over, you spot a pair of shiny scissors glinting off the light. Your mouth stretches into a soft smile.

“About time we got some damn scissors.” You speak up, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

His eyes meet yours, a warm brown that was normally darkened by concern and worry. Cheeks flushed as he looks down.

“My mom...” you continue, tired of the quiet. “She would say that one of a woman’s greatest weapon was her scissors and how she used them.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.” He smiles, a soft barely there grin, but it’s nice on him. You feel heat rise up to your cheeks.

“She is.”

“You like it back home?” He ventures hesitatingly, surprising you so much that you almost forget to answer.

“Home was...home.” You settle on. “It was the same thing day in, day out.”

He nods, mouth twisting. “I know how that feels.”

“What’s Louisiana like?” You toe the line. This is the most you’ve talked to the man at one time and you like the gentle lull of his voice.

He smiles again, bigger than before. “It’s home.” Mimicking your words from earlier. “It’s simple out there. My ma’... I miss her cooking the most.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Four.”

Your eyebrows raise, “wow...”

“What about you?” He smiles at your expression.

“I have an older sister.”

His mouth opens but he never finishes his thought, Spina comes through the flap of the tent with a murmur of ‘fuck’.

“It’s raining something bad out there.” He mutters, shaking out his jacket and cap.

You peek through the flap, barely able to see the other pitched tents through the torrents of water.

Spina is already pulling out the spare cots in the room, “I’m not going back out there.”

Eugene — it seems odd to call him Roe now — shakes his head, the hint of a smile still there.

You smile to yourself at the memory.

“Well, I guess we’re done for the day.” Barkley says, nodding his affirmation as he rubs his hands together.

“Thanks for your help, private.” You smile.

He nods at you, then Eugene, with his cheeks flushed. It was flattering, you think, that men were still affected by you — you covered in dirt and grime, hair unwashed and uncombed.

Eugene lets out a huff when Barkley leaves, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“You okay, Genie?”

His eyes meet yours, expression void as he nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Your hand touches his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you leave.

Unknown to you, the blush on his cheeks and eyes watching your retreat.

. . .

Private Barkley continues to... well, pester you. It was sweet, in a way, how the boy (“I’m eighteen, ma’am.” He blushed when you ask.) followed after you with metaphorical heart eyes. He wasn’t annoying, but he talked a lot — even George Luz could grow irate in his presence.

“And, you see, there I was—“ his story was dragging, you forgot what it was even about. He could ramble, get sidetracked, then go back to his original story like a fly buzzing around your head.

Your eyes flicker up to see Eugene smoking. His eyes are smoldering, looking at Barkley with a look that could disintegrate. The latter takes no notice, mouth running a marathon.

“Hey, Will,” he had practically begged for you to call him by his first name, his desperation having you comply out of embarrassment. “I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay.” He grins, “see you later.”

You watch him walk away, taking steps to Eugene.

“He’s like a puppy.” Gene mutters when you sit next to him, casting a sidelong look at you.

You slump against his shoulder. “I’m more of a cat person.”

His shoulders shake from a laugh, a low gentle sound that feels like water running over rocks. You watch the smoke from his exhale drift into the empty air, curling upwards until it’s swept away by the breeze.

“Think you’ll give Barkley a chance?” Eugene asks, the question leaving your head spinning at the idea.

“A chance at what?”

“He likes you, ‘s pretty obvious.”

“He’s just a boy.” You sigh. “Hasn’t see a woman in a while, sticks to the first one that comes along. Simple.”

He lets out a hum, dropping the rest of his cigarette on the ground with a crush of his boot. “Lovesick puppy.”

The drawl and over enunciation (‘Luvesicc pup-pa’) has you breaking out into a fit of laughter, grabbing his arm to keep from falling over. His hand settles over yours, keeping you in place.

When your chuckles subside, you take a look at him. He’s already staring at you, eyes warm with a look you’ve never seen on him before. A smile so rare directed at you.

“You have a nice smile.” You say absentmindedly, watching as the smile in question grows in size.

He looks away, a blush crawling up his cheeks. He clears his throat, mumbling a quiet, ‘thank you’.

You grab his hand, smiling to yourself when he gives it a gentle squeeze.

. . .

“And, so there I was—all by myself, mind you, and I still can’t find my shoes!” Barkley laughs, but it fades into a frown when you don’t follow suit. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap to him, everything filtering back in place. “Hm?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” He looks hurt, every bit of a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry...I’m just feeling out of it.”

The miffed look shifts to concern, the back of his hand touching your forehead. You flinch at the contact, his hand drawing away.

“S-sorry.”

“Will—“

He gets up to walk away, muttering an apology.

Your stomach twists into knots, knowing the image of his hurt face would be something thought about often. While it was obvious he might have a crush on you, you liked him in a purely platonic way. Telling him that he was like your younger brother would only crush him further.

Gene watches from where he’s sitting, feeling only the smallest of satisfaction at Barkley’s dismal demeanor. It washes away at your guilty expression.

“Hey.”

You look up, quickly smiling to hide your frown. “Hey, Genie.”

“Everything okay with puppy over there?” Gene shouldn’t ask you that question, shouldn’t care as much as he does at the answer.

“No, I don’t think so.” You lean your head against Gene’s shoulder. “You were right, about him being—“ you put quotation marks around ‘lovesick’ “—lovesick. I just wish I didn’t have to let him down. This war is ugly enough as it is without heartbreak added to the mix.”

“If getting his heart broken by you is the worst thing that happens to him during the war, I reckon he’ll be just fine.” Gene finds himself saying, trying not to resonate with the words.

Your fingers tangle in Gene’s, a half thought as you ponder his statement. Gene squeezes your hand, a gentle touch before he’s slipping away. There and gone in a blink of an eye, what he did best.

“It would be honor to have my heart broken by you.” Gene doesn’t turn to look back at you, can’t muster the courage, but wondering what the hell possessed him to say that. His feelings for you weren’t ones of comrades, or even friends, he longed for you in a way that was dangerous. For him, and for you.

“Eugene.” You followed him, hand clasping the sleeve of his jacket, right below his medic band. “I—“

What could you say? How could you convey the feeling that sprung up with every gentle touch, soft gaze, smile that Gene gave you? You couldn’t. And yet, you kiss him. Softly, barely touching him but feeling more alive than you had in months since this damned war began. He leans in, hands cradling your face so gently, deepening the kiss in a way that has you curling into him. When you pull away he looks at you with wonder, stroking his thumb along your lip. His face crumbles as he moves away, dropping his hands, you immediately miss the warmth of him.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.” Gene says.

“It’s for the best.” You say, smiling to hide how it feels like someone had just clenched your heart in their hand. “Genie...I—“

“Don’t say it.” Gene shakes his head, looking pained as he steps away. “It’s for the better.”

He believes it, you can see that. Nothing can change his mind. There is just you, watching his back as he walks away, under the weight of a returned love that couldn’t begin.

———

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[7-wonders]

As the World Falls Down

Summary: You’ve stood by Duncan through thick and thin, but when the true intention of the app he’s been developing is revealed, everything crashes down around you.

Word Count: 2253

A/N: Wow, lots of angst in this one. Hope you enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, whether it be in the form of comments or asks. If you feel so inclined, I would love if you would leave a like or reblog this. Thank you for taking the time to read!

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Everything about the fateful day, that you will soon come to know as the day that everything changed, is just...odd. Not good, not bad, but odd. For starters, Duncan’s actually home when you wake up this morning. His arms are still wrapped tightly around you when your eyes open, and he’s placing soft kisses all over your face. You tilt your head up, smiling sleepily at him and gently scratching the stubble on his face.

“You’re still here? Did Washington shut down while I was asleep?” you ask quietly, not willing to disturb the comfortable silence of the morning.

“No, everything’s business as usual, as far as I’m aware.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, you notice that it’s already 9:00 a.m., which is unheard of for Duncan on a weekday. “Just...felt like working from home today.”

“Working from home? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Duncan?” 

“I thought you would be more excited about this, considering your only classes today are online,” Duncan chuckles, rubbing circles on your upper arm with his thumb.

“No, no, I am, I promise. An unexpected day of having you to myself is a dream come true! I just haven’t known you to ever work from home before.”

That’s especially true with how hard Duncan’s been working on the Shepherd Foundation’s next biggest project, which you’ve started referring to as just ‘the app.’ The app, of course, is meant to be a new analytics app that will replace Politico in terms of tracking candidates and policies. Duncan’s nearly obsessed with getting everything perfect, including providing nearly to-the-second updates on Congressional votes, debates, and any sort of political news. It’s noble, what he’s doing, but you’re a little perplexed as to why this is such a big deal for the company. You had always been under the impression that a corporation’s R & D department was in charge of developing apps, not the person poised to take the helm when his mother steps down (which, most likely, won’t be until she dies).

“The app’s stalled, and I haven’t been focused on anything but that in so long, that I honestly have no clue what to do right now.”

“It’s stalled? Why?”

“Just...some problems with getting it online.” There’s more to the story, you’re sure, but Duncan distracts you by tangling his fingers through your hair and lightly pulling on it in the way that has your eyes fluttering. 

“It’ll all work out,” you reassure him half-heartedly, your voice breathy as you try not to melt from the small gesture.

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?”

“If you would join me for a shower.”

“Well, I can’t say no to that.” Duncan picks you up in his arms, making you squeal and grasp onto him tightly. It may be a different start to the day, but it’s one that you don’t mind at all.

The rest of the day follows in much the same way after your thirty-minute shower (followed by fifteen minutes of mopping up all of the water that landed outside of the shower when Duncan had the bright idea to remove the shower head and attempt to get you off with it). Duncan’s extremely hands-on, holding your waist as you make a quick breakfast and making you sit on his lap while you both eat. You’re entrapped in his arms while you both catch up on the news, Duncan with his newspaper and you with your phone. He barely lets you out of his sight, following you around the penthouse apartment like a puppy whenever you get up to complete some task.

The affection that he’s showing you isn’t out of the ordinary, but it is pretty new. After the earth-shattering revelation that he was not his mother’s child, he was extremely lost and broken. He had nearly spiraled, and leaned heavily on you for comfort. You both agree that, were it not for you, Duncan wouldn’t have been able to go on. You were his rock, his reason to keep going even as his entire world changed. He still hadn’t been able to really talk to his mother, freezing every time he so much as looked at her when at the office. Still, he was slowly getting to a place where he could consider eventually sitting down and talking things out with her. 

He couldn’t imagine what would have happened had you not been in his life when he learned the truth about his parentage, and has tried to come up with any possible way to thank you for sticking with him and comforting him. Although you reassured him multiple times that he didn’t have to do anything and that was just what significant others did, you couldn’t stop the sweet little gifts from showing up on the bedside table every few days. Jewelry, books, flowers (oh, the flowers), and any other things that Duncan found that reminded him of you. His other way of thanking you, and your personal favorite way, is expressing how much he loves and appreciates you. 

You’ve picked up on the fact that Duncan’s so-called ‘love language’ is physical touch and words of affirmation throughout your relationship. He thrives when you tell him how much he means to you, and will absolutely bend to your every whim if you cling onto him. So, to have him holding you and telling you that he loves you and how important you are to him, is the norm lately. Today, though, it seems that he can’t go a full half hour without professing his love to you. He refuses to let go of you, always having a hand on some part of your body. He makes sure that you know just how central a figure in his life you are which, while nice to hear, is starting to concern you a bit. 

Is there some bad news that he’s waiting to tell you? Did his meeting with the president go wrong the other day? Although Duncan’s affectionate, this is a little excessive, even for him. It sets you on edge, and he can tell that you’re starting to question what he’s doing by the time dinner finishes and you’re both sitting curled up on the couch, a glass of wine and a glass of whiskey sitting on the elegant coffee table. 

“Is everything alright?” you finally ask, listening to the sounds of a regular D.C. evening outside your window. “You’ve just been...very touch-oriented today, like you did something wrong and you’re trying to make up for it.” The questions hang unspoken in the air: you still love me, right? You wouldn’t cheat on me?

“(Y/N), I would never do anything to harm you, physically or emotionally, and I haven’t.”

“But something is wrong?” You sit up, facing him now. His eyes shift around the room, looking from the kitchen, to the floor, to his alcohol, to you. He won’t, however, look you in the eyes. “Duncan,” you say firmly to spur him into speaking.

“Remember this morning, when I told you that production on the app has stalled?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “Well, there’s a reason for that.”

“What reason?” Your eyes narrow, heart suddenly thumping in your chest. “Did goddamn Seth fuck something up again, because if he did I swear to God I’m not listening when you tell me that I’m not allowed to beat his sorry-”

“No, it wasn’t Seth’s fault!” Duncan interrupts you, taking your hands in his. “Unfortunately, this time the blame lies solely on me.”

“What did you do?” your voice comes out a mere whisper, and you almost don’t want to know what he’s going to say.

“I--the Foundation is currently under investigation. The authorities believe that the app sources user information, including their location, without the user’s knowledge, in an attempt to sway elections.”

“That’s ridiculous, obviously that’s not true. That’s, like, a huge crime. I’m pretty sure that would be considered treason.” You stand up, Duncan standing with you since he refuses to let go of your hands. “This has to be some sort of attack on you and your family by the president. She’s getting so fucking out of control. I mean, I’ve been a little wary of her recent declarations, but sic-ing the FBI on you just because she’s enemies with your mom is absolutely batshit crazy.”

“(Y/N),” Duncan attempts to get your attention, but you continue your rambling without even looking at him. “(Y/N).” He grabs your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“You have to do something. Can’t you speak to Usher and have him tell President Underwood that the app would never do that?” Your eyes fill with tears at the thought of Duncan being vilified for this lie that the White House is perpetrating.

“(Y/N),” he sniffs, trying to compose himself before he speaks, “it’s true.”

When Duncan would tell you about the moment his mother confirmed his fears about not truly being a Shepherd, about how it felt as if the very ground shifted underneath him, you hadn’t been able to grasp how that felt. It wasn’t something that you were familiar with and, as far as you were aware, there were no secrets that you would encounter to cause faults in the Earth to move against one another in the way that Duncan had experienced. Now, though, you understand exactly what he means. You gasp loudly, mind refusing to understand what you’ve just been told as your knees buckle. Duncan moves his hands so that he’s gripping your arms, keeping you from collapsing to the ground. The room seems like it’s spinning around you and, although you’ve never experienced an earthquake before, you’re sure that this is what it feels like. 

“You’re lying, you--you wouldn’t do that. Duncan, you couldn’t do that, not when you know the consequences of that shit.”

“I’m so, so sorry, darling.”

“Stop, I don’t--I don’t want to hear this anymore. I don’t care how funny you think this is, this is the worst joke you’ve ever told.” You’re clutching your chest, gasping for air as you start to panic. 

This can’t be happening to him, not after all he’s been through. Out of all of the less-than-legal things Duncan’s done on behalf of his family, there’s no way that any of them would even conspire to commit treason. What will happen if Duncan gets arrested, or goes on trial? It’s too painful to even imagine what will happen if he gets sentenced to prison. You can’t think about life without Duncan. What is life if I can’t live it without the love of it?, you think dimly.

“I wish it was a joke, (Y/N), I really do. Listen, we’ve gotten word that the FBI is possibly going to make arrests. I don’t know if they’re going to arrest me, or what’s going to happen, but I wanted you to hear everything from me before you hear it from the media.”

“Do you realize that you can be put to death if you’re convicted of treason?” you hiss, eyes widening. “Jesus Christ, I don’t understand how this is happe-”

Time seems to slow, while also continuing at the same speed that it has been. You hear a single crash from outside before the front door is busted off of its’ hinges. A strong voice shouts “FBI,” and agents rush into the apartment with guns drawn. You shriek as they swarm the room, yelling at you and Duncan to put your hands in the air. You both comply, Duncan making sure he’s still able to touch your skin by standing close enough to you. His touch comforts you for only a moment, before he’s roughly yanked away from you by an agent.

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason against the United States of America.” Duncan looks shocked, as if he didn’t know that the federal agents would arrest him in his apartment, in front of you. His hands are forced behind his back, and the agent goes to work at roughly clicking a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“Duncan--,” you start, taking a step towards him before an agent is holding you back. “Let go of me!” Another agent stands in front of you, preventing you from breaking free and reaching Duncan.

“(Y/N), don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. Do whatever they ask of you, okay? I’ll try and get a hold of you as soon as I can, but just--call my mom, okay? She’ll know what to do.” Duncan’s voice breaks, and you futilely reach out a hand for him as they drag him towards the door. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.” Tears blur your vision as Duncan disappears around the door, the agent releasing you when he’s been successfully removed.

You fall to your knees, your body not being able to support your weight right now. The FBI swarms the apartment, collecting anything they deem as evidence and marking off your home as a crime scene. An agent tries to ask you questions, but you just wrap your arms around your knees and pull them to your chest, staring at the ground. The apartment, filled with noise and people, has never felt emptier than it has in this moment as Duncan’s shoved into a police car and driven away from your home.

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