#now that it's been up for a few days i'm like oh wait it's not that bad actually it's pretty good

[sircantus]

For your runaway prince wilbur, assuming Phil's the king, would Tommy be part of the rebels therefore on the way of Techno wanting to burn it down or would he be a prince as well?? I'm very curious about the au in general honestly so if you've brainstormed anything else I'd love to hear it!! If you want to ofc

Ok so the au is basically that Wilbur feels very suffocated and alone as a prince and wishes for the free life of being a nobody while playing songs on the road and one day he’s like fuck it im gonna go chase the dream and he runs off from home thinking “eh no one will need me all that much techno is the heir and tommy will be a spare so off i go!” And so he goes tries a life out of the royal environment and surprise to no one he is shit at it but honestly hes never been more alive

And in the meanwhile Phil, the king, who has been kinda really distant and busy lately, checks in with his kids at last and then is like. Oh god im missing one. Why am i missing one. And then both techno and tommy (who had ALSO been busy with their own duties and hardly ever checked up on wil) are like WHAT DO YOU MEAN HES MISSING SURELY WE JUST SAW HIM??

Anyhow wilbur somewhat gets his feet underneath him and learns how to support himself. He still feels a grudge tho for that whole distant royal family stuff so he makes a few songs venting about it to which the people take as “yeah the royal family DOESNT care about us common people you have a point! Hate those guys ugh rich people” Wilbur is at first like wait no thats not the point but people are liking his music here so he kinda rolls with it and starts getting a decent audience who enjoy his music

So now he’s getting these little concerts where he just disses the royal family sometimes and has people rallying around dissing the crown, and word of that reaches the castle of course so phil, still busy with trying to track down his LOST CHILD without causing mass panic to the kingdom is like “techno go take care of that for me” and so techno does. And then finds wil. And is like “i blame everyone here for the fact you went missing and gave me a heart attack for several months” Tommy is entirely on the side of burning the place down. Bro wants blood. Wilbur has to shake his brothers by the shoulders like “PLEASE refrain” and theyre like “:( but they took you from us >:( its treason”

[igglemouse]

Lets start this day with some big news! Our little Flora is officially too big for her crib which means she's grown some! They do grow fast, don't they? It's almost hard to keep up!

Just look at her! My little princesa! She's wiggling and cooing and happy as can be and what else is there to say? I'm soaking in the moment with her and have little else to say. I just feel so lucky and fortunate and I know I keep saying this but all my love is for her right now!

I would have played with her a little more but I think all that growing wore her out, as it tends to do, so I would let her have her nap and whip up a pizza! Pizzas are easy to make thankfully and this one will just be a regular classic pepperoni as you can't go wrong with that. I think I do make a pretty good pizza pie! That's amore!

I think the scent of pizza brings Pascal to the kitchen but when he arrives he's looking a little sad. I admit, the frown on his face makes me forget for a moment that he's been oogling models in his spare time and I can't wait to offer my emotional support.

"What's wrong?" I ask, putting aside his wandering eyes for just a moment. I bet it has something to do with futbol, usually if he's sad that is why, but I can't ignore one significant difference about him. "You umm, forget to shave?"

"That's just it, my razor broke and I might have to go out like this," he looks so disheartened even as he rubs the new beard that now adorns his face.

"You look great! In fact, I'd say keep it!"

"Well, if you say so."

I can't help but chuckle at how dramatic he's being. "You look fine either way! Actually, I think it suits you! You're a daddy now and it matures you some."

"I guess it's not so bad..." he mumbles although the frown on his face doesn't budge. I remind him that there is fresh pizza in the kitchen so if that doesn't make him feel a little better than I don't know what will.

I've decided not to bring up the model oogling just yet. Eventually, yes, but right now I just don't feel it is the right time. I've thought a lot about it last night but I want to keep those thoughts to the side, not let them consume me. He's a man. I know, that's a poor excuse, but it is also the truth. It is also the truth that really I'm still very very very much into him and that right now is enough for me to set it aside and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Instead, my mind drifts to bigger things, longer term things, another baby kind of things and maybe, hopefully, a proposal. Yeah, the big M. I can't help but wonder when it will happen or...if it will happen.

I'll be honest, I probably would've spent the rest of the night overthinking about Pascal's liking history on Simstagram but the moment I see Flora's little face it grounds me completely. She's the result of our passion and love and I won't throw that away on a whim. Feeding her, holding her, playing with her reminds me of what truly matters.

Oh! She loves to hiccup! That makes her a hiccuper? It's the most adorable thing, it's a squeaky little sound and whenever she does it she almost looks confused as if she's asking 'did I do that?' and I have to remind her to have manners! A little lady doesn't go around hiccuping at others after all!

And I love her so much that I am taking her everywhere I go in my little carrier. Thankfully, she's a quiet one and she's pretty calm about being carried around. Only wriggling and cooing here and there and hopefully taking in what will hopefully be her home for many years to come.

Oh! Also, as I'm out and about, I notice that people are recognizing me? Nothing major, a few waves and hellos along with my name "Frida!" and I can't help but wonder is it from my food stand or me new growing SimTube channel? Either way, it does feel nice to be noticed! There's even a fellow food stand chef who offered me a free hotdog but I had to decline because Flora started to whine and flail, her way of wanting to go back home I think.

Oh, and Pascal did spend time with Flora after he came back from a game. I SWEAR she was giving him the side-eye. I might have ummm vented to her about the traveling eyes of men. Not that she could understand a word I've said but maybe, just maybe, she picked up on it in my tone...or it could be she's unsure of him because she really doesn't get to see him too much, he's always working, after all.

Meanwhile, in the poorer part of town, Sara and Simón were curled up together in his humble trailer. He had called her over saying that there was something important they needed to discuss but it didn't end up being much of a conversation. Instead, he simply asked for her loyalty and her love.

She wanted to, she wanted him to be the one, Watcher how she wanted to. He could be her escape, her distraction, her addiction, her everything, how she wanted every bit of that, but she knows oft times the heart doesn't get what it wants. The brain though, the brain can be a lot more realistic with its desires.

"I know what you are," she said suddenly, the realization blowing past her like a chill breeze. Her hands roamed his chest, the tips of her fingers searching for something, reassurance, maybe? The mystery of him perhaps, the missing puzzle piece that would make this thing between them work.

"I know you'd figure it out," his reply was quiet and his voice heavy. He wasn't shocked. He wouldn't deny it or talk her out of it. He couldn't run from his past like Frida because he had become his past and now as he looked at Sara he wondered if she could ever be part of his future. If she should. The danger he could put her through..."So, what do you think?"

"I don't want this to end," she decided, the words surprising even herself. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Love is always worth the risk...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.5

[sweetiesicheng]

wooyoung - daycare

word count : 791

happy birthday to wooyoung !!

-

"shush! do you want them to wake up?" you ask wooyoung.

"you're whispering too loud too!" wooyoung replies.

you hear a noise and look over at the sleeping children to see one of them just moving in their sleep. the child eventually settles and you sigh out of relief.

"hand me the trays," wooyoung whispers.

you nod and hand him the remaining trays that need to be cleaned. he leaves the room to put them in a dishwasher while you tidy up the room.

you and wooyoung are best friends who work at a daycare on the weekends. both of you started a few months ago, but now you only work on the weekends because of school. there aren't too many kids today, but there's a lot of cleaning to do as per usual.

the kids are taking a nap before they go home for the day, but you and wooyoung want to go home as soon as possible. the hard thing is trying to clean and not wake the kids up.

you clean up one of the areas, picking up scattered toys and books that the kids had been playing with earlier. you put everything back into their respective places.

when you're done, you join wooyoung in the kitchen area. he's putting some food away and any dirty dishes that weren't put in the dishwasher yet.

"you good?" you ask him.

"yea. just have these few," he replies. "how much time do we have left?" he asks.

you look around for a clock and find one on the wall. "like fifteen minutes," you answer.

all of a sudden, you start to hear crying from the room that the kids are sleeping in. you hurry back in and go to the child. you sit down and rub the child's back, trying to soothe them to sleep for the remaining fifteen minutes.

once the child settles down, you move and sit against the wall, deciding to finish everything you need to do once the kids wake up from their nap. wooyoung walks into the room and notices you.

"what are you doing?" he whispers.

"waiting," you answer. he just nods his head and starts tidying the room as needed.

—

"bye bye miss y/n and mister wooyoung," one of the kids says to both of you.

"bye! have a nice day," you say.

"see you later," wooyoung says as kids leave with their parents. "woah! buddy, don't run," he says to another kid.

you feel something tug your apron and look down to see one of the kids. "miss y/n," the child speaks.

you crouch down a bit. "is something wrong?" you ask.

they shake their head. "i have a question," they say to you, "are you and wooyoung married?" they ask.

you try to keep your composure but laugh. you shake your head. "no, we're best friends!" you say to them.

"but my mommy says that her best friend is my daddy," they reply, looking confused, "so you're not married?"

you pat their head, "you can best friends with anyone. it doesn't have to just be someone you're married to. you have a lot of best friends here, right?" you say to them.

it seems like a lightbulb has turned on, "oh, i think i get it!" they say to you with a smile.

"well, you're very smart. i knew you would," you say while fixing their hat. "i'll see you next time, okay?"

"okay! bye bye!" the child runs off, going to their mom. you wave and continue to watch the kids who are still waiting for their parents.

after all of the kids leave, you and wooyoung finish up cleaning before closing the daycare up.

"dude," you call out to wooyoung as you get into the passenger seat of his car, "they think we're married."

"huh? married?" wooyoung replies, "that's kind of cute." he starts his car up and drives out of the parking lot.

"yea, it is, but they're little, they don't know anything yet," you reply. "hey, can we pick up food?"

"idiot, are you paying attention? i didn't even drive in the direction to our neighborhood," wooyoung replies as he stops at a stop sign.

"i'm just asking! you always bicker with me..." you say to him, mumbling at the end.

"well i need someone to annoy," he says and continues to drive down the street. "you're paying for food."

"again? we just got our paychecks!"

"you're the one who didn't pay me back yet!"

"ugh, jung wooyoung! you're glad i like working with you or else i'd smack you in front of the kids.

"excuse me, you have hit me! you and the kids bully me every time!"

"we do not!"

"yes you do!"

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian meets Swamp Thing

Context: This is based on one of the canon's but I do like this one the most. Absorbing the memories of the dead person you think you are has always been a fascinating trope. Plus Damian wanting to help out villains he finds interesting is just heroic and sweet thing for him to do.

Alec (Swamp Thing): Hey, little dude. Awesome to meet a new Robin! I really love the representation. We need more diversity in the Bat League.

Batman: I have heroes of other races—wait, I’m going to stop there before I say something inappropriate.

Damian, dressed in his Robin suit, chuckled at his father's embarrassment.

Alec: It’s cool, Batman. I get you. You’re a cool hero, and you seem to take care of these kids. Ivy really likes one of them a lot.

Batman: I’m painfully aware of that.

Alec: I was thrown off by it too. Back to the little dude—Robin, I love this suit. Rock on, little dude!

Damian smiled, his head down. Batman cleared his throat to remind the young Robin to focus on why they were there. Robin nodded, preparing to speak.

Damian: Mr. Swamp Thing—

Alec (in a chill tone): You can call me Alec. Swamp Thing is what my enemies call me.

Damian (slightly surprised): Oh, so we're not enemies?

Alec: Nah, you’re friends with Ivy's girlfriend, and she’s pretty chill. Ivy seriously needed that kind of positive vibe.

Damian nodded with a prideful smile, then glanced at his father, subtly rubbing in that another villain liked him. Batman rolled his eyes and waved a hand for his son to hurry up.

Damian (to Alec): I agree, sir. This conversation is going well, and I hope not to offend you, but I was curious about one thing: Are you a former human turned into a swamp creature, or a sentient plant that has absorbed all of Alec's memories?

Damian placed his hands behind his back, waiting for an answer, while Batman heaved a heavy sigh, too embarrassed to speak.

Batman (to himself): I would've gotten to the point already.

Alec (surprised): Oh… wow. I haven’t been asked that in a long, long time.

Damian: Is it okay if I ask? Batman said it was wildly inappropriate and you'd "go berserk" if I asked that, and then I wouldn’t be able to ask any further questions. Right, Batman?!

Damian looked up at his father, who remained silent, covering his eyes in frustration and holding his head down.

Damian: I think that means yes. My apologies, Alec, I’m a curious child. I love to learn about criminals or former criminals such as yourself. I'm not going to judge you or anything.

Alec: You're okay, little Robin. I accepted what I am a long time ago. I couldn’t deal with humans, though; that’s why I live here, surrounded by the swampy foliage—meditating and stuff like that. My 'birth' is odd, to say the least. I’m a hundred percent plant, but I absorbed most of the original Alec's memories. The poor guy died in the explosion that created me, and his body sank deep into a swampy marsh. After going through an existential crisis, I searched for him and buried his body in a better spot.

Damian: Oh... that's quite the bittersweet origin story. It’s reassuring to see you’ve had good personal growth since then.

Batman (chiming in, exasperated tone): Robin, he killed so many people and almost created plant zombies.

Damian: And you invite Red Hood over for Thanksgiving; you have no room to talk.

Alec laughed, then sighed with a smile.

Alec: Yeah, don’t worry; I’m not doing anything evil anymore. I did some goon work for a few years and worked with Ivy, but I’m retired now. I enjoy spending my days chillaxing here, keeping my zen in check. Gotta make sure to avoid toxic outlets, you know?

Damian: I do. I'm not giving up my iPhone, but I get it. I'm glad you've reached that level of enlightenment; you can reject my offer. Thing is, I helped out Mr. Freeze and was wondering if you needed any assistance?

Alec smiled and shook his head.

Alec: While I appreciate you wanting to help, I'm good.

Damian: Hm, are you sure? I can do a lot, especially with my dad's money. Batman knows my dad; he can help, right, Batman?!

Batman (deadpan): Trust me, when I talk to your father, you’re going to be so grounded.

Damian (chuckling): Worth it.

Alec (crossing his arms): How about this? If I do need something from you guys, you'll be the first I contact.

Damian: That works. Here’s a phone to make it easier to reach me. It’s solar-powered, so there’s no need to charge it like a regular cell phone. It’s waterproof and gets reception in this bayou. My number is on there, along with Ivy's, Harley's, and Batman's.

Batman (angry): I told you not to involve me in this!

Damian (gritting his teeth): You know my rich father, so you're helping!

Batman: Okay, fine. I’m going to the car, and we’re having a talk when we drive home.

Batman walked off as Damian handed the phone to Alec. Alec took it with a genuine smile, surprised.

Alec: I have to say, I’m not too into these cell phones. They’re bad for the environment and the mind. But this seems like a pretty simple touchscreen. Thanks, kid.

Damian gave a thumbs up.

Damian: It’s what heroes do. All right, Batman is ready to go. See you around, Alec.

Damian put up the hood on his suit and walked off as Alec opened a music app on the phone.

Alec (smiling): Huh, the kid's not that bad.

[greatwave]

I met @benzank a few years (just kidding, i looked at the date and it was in 2016. 8 does not equal "a few") ago at this Tumblr IRL thing in Boulder, CO. Old church turned into a performance venue/art gallery. I've never been in a space like it since then. Ben had these ridiculously gorgeous photos in a gallery - each one an interpretation of one of the tracks from Phantogram's album "Three."

The photos were projected on a big screen before Phantogram came on stage and performed this emotional and powerful set. Afterwards, we headed downstairs to see the physical photos displayed in these massive poster-sized formats. We were given these awesome photobooks and got them signed when we met Ben and Phantogram. It didn't feel like some weird fan-overload thing and was really just a nice relaxing environment that led to awesome conversation. The good ol' days I guess. I fell in love with this photo below especially - I still don't know why. Maybe it's because it was associated with "Same Old Blues" and those lyrics really hit my soul. I asked Ben if the photos were for sale because I felt compelled to get that piece in my home. Ben replied with something along the lines of, "What? No you don't have to buy it! Just wait over there for a few and I'll just give it to you when it's over." Seriously too kind. I've had this falling dude in the forest above my bed, I've moved more times than I can count since that 2016 show but this is always the first piece to go up in a new home. There's something about the way Ben gets these human figures to interact, and intersect with the environment that I just cannot ever get tired of seeing. It's always something that just make you stare and stare and stare, even 8 years later.

And you can never save my soul I think it's time to let me go I keep on having this dream Where I'm stuck in a hole and I can't get out There's always something that's pulling me down, down, down My heart is down on it's knees so I try, oh I try But it's too late now There's always something that's pulling me down, down, down

My Brain Took an Extended Vacation: Ben Zank Playfully Twists the Banal

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[m1dnight-blu3]

someone please free me from the shackles of my ableist job so I can read my books, draw and write my silly little fics in PEACE

[tittyinfinity]

It's really nice having a free housekeeping service thru my Medicaid but ever since my regular housekeeper that I had for a year (now friend) got promoted in March it's like every other person I've had fuckin hates disabled people

[zepskies]

First of all, welcome back, Wayne! I'm so glad you're here and it's been so lovely to catch up. And now I'm so excited to see what happens next with this story!!

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Oooh Diane's playing a tricky game. I sense cat and mouse vibes forming, and now I'm scared for both Beau and the reader...

“If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

Dear GOD this bitch. 😭 The sad part is I can so see her getting under Beau's skin and picking at his guilt, since she's basically hit the nail on the head as far as his feelings are concerned.

Also I appreciate the authenticity of Grey's Anatomy in Spanish show playing on the screen when we get that first flashback in Mexico lol. "Prince charming," eh? Foreshadowing? 😂

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

Oh, definitely foreshadowing. 🥰 (Even if it's bittersweet in this context lol)

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

It's so painful and messy, but I love how the reader didn't sugar coat things even when she was reassuring him. She was honest about how she had an inkling he felt the way he did, but knew he would never act on it when Randy was alive. I'm also glad she specified that her love for Randy and Beau were never at the same time. It's such an important detail, and yes it sucks that Diane is preying on Beau's insecurities, but hopefully he and the reader come out stronger for having hashed this stuff out.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

*shivers* Oooh, I love it when he gets angry. 😏

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Whyyyyyyyyy?!!! 😭😭😭😭 Oh God, this is about to get SO messy, and now I'm biting my nails to see what'll happen next. Especially because there are still quite a few chapters left. Brilliant cliffhanger even though it just about gutted me lolll. Can't wait for Friday!

Polaris – Chapter 8

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, Diane is her own warning, Grey's Anatomy & alcoholism, uhm... hard to explain the last one without spoilering. You'll be fine 😂

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Oh boy, I'll save you guys long explanations. Life got in the way, so let's just all be glad we're back here 😅 Some of you brilliant sleuths already caught breadcrumbs of my scheming in the last part, so here's The One You've Been Waiting For...

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

“Where is she?”

Your boot soles thudded on the floor as you dashed inside the station, your questioning look aimed at Jenny, who leaned against her desk with crossed arms and a stern brow. Beau was hot on your heels, just jogging in behind you. You practically raced him from the car across the parking lot.

“She’s in Interrogation Room 3,” Jenny informed you.

“Is she cuffed?” Beau asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger caused by concern. He had a whole car ride to the department to rile himself up and let his head spin with reasons. None of them soothing; all of them terrifying.

Jenny shook her head. “No. She’s not officially under arrest and hasn’t confessed yet, either. ‘Sides, she willingly came in and just all too happily sat down. She’s clearly playing a game. I’d be careful.”

“Alright, thanks,” Beau said and looked at you. “How you wanna do this?”

“Let’s just go in and talk to her. See what she has to say and what angle she’s playing,” you suggested, and Beau agreed with a nod, both of you falling into step as you headed down the hallway.

“My favorite couple. There you are,” Diane greeted you with a smirk that could only be described as lunacy as soon as you and Beau walked into the interrogation room. “Hope I didn’t disturb your evening.”

“Not at all,” you replied with an easy smile and took a seat across from her, Beau settling down right next to you and leaning back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Diane?”

“Well, I figured I come here before you call in the cavalry. There’s no need for all this drama. I have a feeling you two have enough of that,” she quipped and grinned devilishly at the both of you.

“So, you waltzed in here to confess to twenty-four murders?” Beau arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Beau and you shared a look. Neither of you liked this, but you supposed you had to play along if it led to a confession. You nodded at Diane. “Fine, what d’you wanna know?”

Diane grinned in triumphant satisfaction and folded her arms on the metal table, curiously leaning forward. “Look, I think it’s cute you two found each other… after divorce and death, of course. ‘Cause who likes a cheater, right?” she posed theoretically, her smirk getting wider. “I guess, for me at least, it’s just hard to believe there’ve never been any feelings before that. Seems kinda odd to me.”

You smiled wryly. “Well, for me at least, it seems kinda odd and, frankly, hard to believe some psychotic bitch would murder over twenty innocent people just because her husband was a cheating dirtbag. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed, Agent,” Diane snarked with a pleased smile. “And I’d be wary throwing the word ‘innocent’ around so carelessly. After all, just look at you two. I mean, I’m not saying you’ve planned this little hot love affair, but c'mon! What, no lingering looks? No fluttering hearts, dirty thoughts, or wistful what-ifs?”

You remained cool and held your gaze stern. No quiver of a lip, no twitch of an eye, no flinch of a muscle betrayed you. But Beau must’ve signaled something when Diane’s eyes drifted to him. She tilted her head with a delighted sneer forming on her face. Your heart halted in your chest. You knew she’d locked in on a target like a lioness on the prowl.

“Whoop, Sheriff Arlen, do you have something to tell me? You seem awfully quiet and… shifty,” Diane prodded the tip of her metaphorical knife into his ribcage, prying it open just enough to see inside. “If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

“Okay, enough,” you snapped and drew a line in the sand, noticing how Beau withdrew more and more upon her words. She was getting to him and enjoying it. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, got it?”

Diane chuckled amusedly. “Sheriff Arlen, you should learn from your girlfriend here. She’s better at acting than you are. Or is it lying?” Her questioning gaze turned to you.

“What d’you want, huh?” you prompted with stern annoyance, hoping to take some heat off of Beau. “You want some weird confession, so you can throw one of us into a bunker?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent. We’re just having a friendly chat among colleagues, getting to know each other.” She grinned, her icy gray eyes sparkling with devilish joy. She leaned closer to Beau, circling in on him. She could smell he was close to a breaking point and aimed her sledgehammer at him. “Tell me, Sheriff, were you happy when your partner died? I mean, you must’ve been. She was finally free and all yours for the taking. Is that why your marriage crumbled so soon after his death? Why you followed her all the way to Mexico, leaving your family behind? Be honest, did you lead her husband into that warehouse on purpose?”

“Shut up!” Beau yelled and bristled, his voice trembling with anger as did every single muscle of his. He jumped up from his seat and kicked the chair roughly against the wall before storming out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shocked, you rose from your seat as well and threw Jenny a worried look through the one-way mirror. As you followed Beau outside, you could still hear Diane’s heinous laugh.

November 2020

‘¿Recuerdas que en tu infancia creías en cuentos de hadas? En la fantasia de lo que podría ser tu vida. Tu vestido blanco, un príncipe azul que te llevaría en sus brazos a un castillo sobre una colina…’

A knock on your door rattled you and snapped your attention away from the small, old TV in your room. The image was grainy at best, and you were sure the television itself was bought sometime in the early 2000s. Yet, you still managed to hook it up to your laptop and stream a few shows. Drinking and watching television was all you had for entertainment down here whenever you were on the lay-low and had some time off.

Oh, and there was the crying, of course.

You hurriedly blew your nose in one of the tissues in your hand and wiped the tears out of your eyes. Bolting into the bathroom first, you did a quick check of your appearance in the stained, wonky mirror. Well, good enough. Who were you trying to impress? You were a grieving widow. People expected you to look like shit.

Beau blinked at you as the door opened. He offered you a friendly smile, although he could tell you had cried again. You never admitted it, always telling him you were fine and brushing away any and all of his concerns. But your red and puffy eyes were hard to hide and even harder to ignore when he stopped by your room at night. It broke his heart every single time.

“Hey, I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet, darlin’,” he said and tried not to sound too scolding. Since Randy’s death you’d been basically on a grief diet, although you seemed to be more willing to eat since you’d come to Mexico. But Beau had taken it upon himself to ensure your stomach was always full.

“Uh, thanks, but I’m not hungry,” you said quietly and were already keen to close the door to get rid of him again. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Beau frowned and already slid his boot between the door and its jamb. “You know I’m not leaving till you ate. And since you’re being particularly difficult tonight, I’m just gonna have to watch you till that whole bag is empty. Now, trust me. This ain’t fun for me, either. Don’t make me spoon-feed you and do airplane noises. It’s been a while, but I have experience in that field. You wanna hear my lecture about your essential vitamins and minerals again?”

You sighed dramatically and were close to a whine. “Beau, I’m really not in the mood right now. Can you please just–” You stopped when you noticed the man wasn’t even listening to you. With a curiously furrowed brow, he cocked his head and leaned inside your room with a skillful weight shift, his green eyes focusing on the TV.

‘Vamos a domir a tu casa esta noche.’

‘¿Qué?’

‘¿Por qué siempre dormirmos en mi casa? ¿O no tienes una?’

“What are you watching?” Beau had fully stepped inside your room, and you knew your probability of kicking him out again sunk by the second. You sighed once more and closed the door behind you two.

“Grey’s Anatomy in Spanish. I already know the episodes, so I figured I could learn a little. I already forgot most of it from school,” you replied.

“Huh. Never watched this show.” Yet, he sat down on the foot of your bed and seemed hooked. His eyes were glued to the screen, brow lightly creased above the bridge of his nose that showed his interest. If you had popcorn, you would’ve handed it to him.

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled nonetheless. Randy had been the same. He’d teased you for watching till he caught one episode and was immediately enthralled. Afterward, you weren’t allowed to watch a single episode without him anymore.

“You wanna watch with me?” You grabbed the bag of food and crawled onto your bed, leaning against the headboard. You quickly discarded the tissues that were strewn all over your mattress. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed them yet, or you would’ve received a look full of worry and pity.

“Sure.” Beau nodded and smiled at you over his shoulder, happy you had decided to eat, after all. “So, what’s this show about?”

“A hospital in Seattle. But honestly, everyone’s just sleeping with everyone…”

It took a while till you had explained all the intricacies of each relationship to him. Fortunately, this was only the first season. He gasped when you informed him the show had seventeen of it – so far. By the end of the episode, he had joined you by the headboard, sitting next to you as you shared the remaining tacos.

‘Me gusta el helado de café, whisky de malta de una sola destilería, de vez en cuando un buen habano.’

“Ah! Now that’s a home,” Beau declared with a broad and longing smile, raising his beer bottle to the TV. “You know, I’ve always wanted an Airstream trailer exactly like this.”

“Uh-huh. Un remolque.”

His brow quirked. “Is that Spanish for trailer?”

“Yes, he just said it. You need to pay attention,” you chided playfully and took a sip from your beer.

“Hey, look, I’m just glad I can keep up with who’s sleeping with who, alright? Don’t need to add Spanish vocabulary to the mix,” Beau quipped, making you giggle. “I actually almost bought a trailer like that when me and Carla first got married.”

You grinned knowingly. “Lemme guess, Carla said no and almost shot you?”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, she definitely came close that time. But Emily was already on the way, so I guess it would’ve been impractical with a baby.”

“Smart choice.”

As your eyes traveled back to the TV, Beau’s gaze landed on you. He watched as your cheeks moved when you laughed with your whole heart. How your pink, full lips sealed around the bottle opening whenever you sipped on your beer. How your shimmering hair fell into your face in waves as you leaned forward and hugged your knees. Lingering looks.

“You wanna open a bottle of tequila with me and watch another episode?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s do that,” he agreed, swallowing lightly. A part of him almost felt caught in his shameless staring. But he was willing to do anything as long as it kept you from crying yourself to sleep for another night.

Jumping up from the bed, you sauntered over to the mini bar and bent down, hauling a bottle of tequila from the small fridge you’d stored in there earlier. Beau tried not to stare at the curve of your ass and how tightly those dark blue jeans hugged it. But he couldn’t control his heart as it undeniably accelerated and thumped loudly against its prison. Fluttering hearts.

Four episodes and two Margarita pitchers in, you stretched with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open. You glanced at Beau with an amused smile as he was still transfixed by the TV and heavily engaged in the show.

“I’m beat. You mind if we turn in?” you checked and laughed a little when his green eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll head back to my room,” he said, nodding. “You, uh, wanna do this every night, maybe? I mean, it’s not like there’s much else to do here… We could hang out and binge-watch, as the kids say. Netflix and chill.”

You snorted. “Beau, that’s not what you think it means…”

His brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Sex,” you said bluntly and watched his mouth open and close. It was rare to render that man speechless.

Beau pursed his lips, his cheeks redder than the desert sand. “Yeah, uh, no Netflix and chill, then.” He cleared his throat a couple of times while you stifled your laughs. “Can I just finish this episode before I go?”

You giggled, getting up from the bed. “Sure. Knock yourself out. I need some bathroom time before, anyways.”

As you sauntered into the small, dingy bathroom, you briefly glanced back and saw Beau’s focus was already back on the sexy doctors. You laughed a little, shaking your head before you began to wash your face and slip into your pajamas, which were just a pair of sweat shorts and an old college shirt of Randy’s. Go Cougars!

Unbeknownst to you, Beau’s gaze didn’t remain on the TV for long. At first, he only caught a glimpse of you from his periphery in the bathroom mirror through the cracked door. For a moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away as you shed out of your shirt. But when your bra came off as well, he averted his eyes shamefully back to the TV. His mind, however, still wandered, incapable of shaking the image of you, various unholy ideas gathering for a villainous summit. Dirty thoughts.

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

“Still hooked, huh?” Amused, you arched a brow at him as you strolled out of the bathroom and saw he was still enchanted by the magic of dramatic television.

“He’s gonna go back to the cheatin’ ex, isn’t he?” Beau asked without looking at you. He sat on the bed with arms crossed and his brow scrunched.

You pressed your lips together as you smothered another laugh. “Oh, no spoilers from me, but it’s a bit of a ride. And we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Caliente yet,” you said, grinning.

You waited a moment for Beau to catch the hint that you wanted to go to bed. But soon you realized it wasn’t going to happen. The man had done a full deep dive into that show, and there was no way of pulling him back out.

“You know, you can stay and keep watching if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ve been sleeping with the TV on, anyways,” you said.

His gaze met yours, brow finally rising with realization. “Oh, uh, sorry. No, I can go. Let you catch some–” His eyes wandered back to the TV before he shook his head and tried to refocus. He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay. You can stay. I don’t care,” you assured him with a soft smile and climbed under the covers, resting your head on the pillow. You switched off the lamp by your bedside table, the blue glow of the screen remaining the only source of light.

“Maybe just this episode,” he mumbled, his shoulders deflating as he sunk back into a more comfortable position again.

“This is nice,” you noted with a blissful sigh and closed your eyes. “I kinda hate being alone.”

Beau watched you as you peacefully fell asleep, the TV suddenly forgotten. For once you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. Tears, nightmares, and loneliness gone. And he wondered – what it would be like if he watched you fall asleep every night. What if he was still there in the morning. What if he could hold you as you wore his shirt. Then, the guilt came swiftly like the rising tide and washed those thoughts away. Wistful what-ifs.

“What the hell happened in there?” you hissed as quietly as possible as you caught up with Beau in the lowly lit hallway of the station. Luckily, the other cops had enough sense to stay away and keep their distance while the two of you hashed things out.

Beau dragged a hand over his face, kept his palm clasped on his mouth as he paced in a circle. You were surprised he hadn’t punched a wall yet, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

“You can’t let her get to you,” you reminded him gently, your face softening when you noticed how distraught and upset he really was. What Diane said to him must’ve cut deep.

“You know it’s not true, right? What she said in there? I-I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t… Fuck!” His eyes were brimming with desperate tears, his breathing quick. You could hear his heart race from feet away.

“Of course not. She’s a deranged psychopath,” you emphasized, although you didn’t understand why you had to spell it out for him. He already knew that. “Why are you so upset? Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s thriving off it like a hyena.”

“I know. I just-…” He took a deep breath. “What if she’s right?”

Confused, your brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Me. Us,” he said, not making necessarily more sense. “What if it’s true, huh?” He blinked at you and swallowed harshly, completely out of breath. “Look, uhm… I-I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never admitted it before, but recently, things have become a lot clearer to me…” He paused for a moment, rubbing his mouth with two fingers before he found your eyes again. “I’ve always had feelings for you, you know? There’s always been this… pull. Even back then. Since the first time I met you.”

You inhaled sharply, your lungs incapable of fitting more air as you held your breath for several heartbeats. “Beau, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if it is,” he said. The tortured tone of his voice pained you. “I mean, I would’ve never done anything. You need to know that, okay? I would’ve never hurt you or Randy. I never would’ve come between you two.”

“I know that,” you assured him. You wanted to take his hands in yours, touch him, hold him. But you knew it would only make the turmoil of emotions worse instead of better, like pouring oil into the fire.

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose and finally took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers as you squeezed them. “I know all of that,” you said, his brow rising in bewildered surprise. “In terms of being honest… I guess a part of me always knew you felt this way, but I never let myself go there. And yeah, considering everything, it’s only natural to feel guilty. But you’ve still done nothing wrong. We’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t control how you feel. Neither can I. And I’m not saying everything always was exactly right, and we did everything by the book, but I loved Randy with all my heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else… And now, I love you. But it was never at the same time, you know?”

Beau pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, kissing your crown. “No, I know. Trust me. I know that part.”

“I love you, okay?” You tiptoed to claim his lips, putting your whole heart into the kiss. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wouldn’t lie, either. “Diane doesn’t get to use that against us. Everything that happened, everything we’ve done right or wrong – that’s between you and me… and maybe God at some point. But surely not that psychotic bitch in there. She’s doesn’t know what we think or feel, so don’t give her ammunition, alright?”

Beau nodded and pecked your lips, his hands caressing your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Jenny cleared her throat as she carefully snuck up on you. “You guys okay?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah. What d’you got?”

“Well, since Diane walked in and became our prime suspect, the new DA on the case signed a search warrant for her property, office, car, and all her devices,” Jenny informed you.

“Alright, take Pops with you and head to her house first. Call me if you find somethin’ we can burn that witch with,” Beau ordered, putting his sheriff hat back on, jumping into the saddle full-throttle.

“On it, boss.” Jenny gave him a resolute nod and hurried down the hall.

January 2021

“¡Feliz navidad!”

As you opened the motel room door, you found Beau on your doorstep with a giant grin on his freckled face and not one but two bottles of tequila. One in each hand that he joyfully wiggled in the air.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Christmas was two weeks ago, payaso.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here, so merry belated Christmas,” he retorted and strolled right in as you held the door open for him. “Can’t believe you stayed here and didn’t go home for Christmas.”

“Meh, wasn’t in the mood to be placated and pitied by my whole family. I know they all mean well, but if I get one more concerned head tilt and a ‘How are you holding up, sweetie?’, tendré que apuñalar a alguien,” you huffed.

Beau narrowed his eyes at you, slightly amused. “I only understood the word ‘stab’, but I think I get the gist,” he joked, laughing. “I see your Spanish is getting better. So, how was your depressing and lonely Christmas without your family?”

“Nice guilt trip, asshole,” you retorted playfully and scoffed. “Great, actually. I went out with the guys from our team who stayed here, too. Got insanely drunk on some Christmas cocktail Ignacio created. And some hot guy taught me how to Salsa dance. He got a little handsy towards the end, which, granted, is the most action I’ve seen in five months, so…”

Beau’s lips thinned as he weighted your words. “Huh, so to recap: you got wasted with five guys in a dingy bar and second base with some stranger. Sounds like Christmas-y fun.”

You frowned slightly, watching him open one of the bottles of tequila. “Alright, there were no bases being hit, Judge Judy. How was your Christmas?”

“Not as fun, I can tell you that much,” Beau muttered and gulped some tequila straight from the bottle.

Your nose scrunched, lips pursed. “You and Carla got into it again?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” he replied. “I’ve only been home twice, including Christmas. You’d think she’d be more happy to see me, but instead I get yelled at for not being home more and criticized like I’m some drunk.”

Your narrowed look drifted to the bottle of liquor tightly clasped in his hands as he plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, you know, not really making an argument for yourself there, gaucho.”

He scowled at you. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one’s!”

“What, you think I’m some alcoholic?”

You pursed your lips and hesitated briefly. “No… But I do think you have a slight issue with... occurrence and... volume.”

He sent you a small glare. “That’s the same thing, just different words.”

“Look, I get it. It’s not like I’ve been a healthy example these past months,” you said, hoping a softer approach would work. You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s been hard for all of us. Grief wrecks you. But you have a family to think about. Maybe it’s time you go home… for good.”

His brow drew into creases, green eyes drilling a hole into you. “Do you want me to go?”

Your lips parted for a moment, reluctant to answer as his question hung in the air between you two. “It’s not about what I want. You should do what’s best for you.”

Beau considered your words, his head bobbing. “I wanna stay. I need to see this through. For Randy,” he declared, although it was only partially true. Another part of him stayed for you. There was an electrostatic force, invisible to the naked heart and irresistible to the free mind. A force that kept him in your orbit and bonded his atoms with yours.

Maybe you should’ve told him to go home, been more insistent on making him leave, clearer on what was best. But truthfully and selfishly so, you liked having him around. He was your constant, your little piece of home in a strange land and an even stranger new life. And you didn’t want to navigate this new life alone.

“You sure?” you still asked for the sake of your conscience, but the determination on his face over his decision made your heart sing in relief.

“I’m sure. Just wish things were easier…”

Walking back into the interrogation room, you smiled victoriously as you slapped a folder full of evidence on the metal table in front of Diane. The deputies had found “a buttload” in Poppernak’s words.

Regardless, you knew Diane wasn’t stupid. If the deputies found something, she had wanted you to find it. For some reason, she wanted to be arrested. But you didn’t care what sick game she was playing. Cuffing her meant there’d be no more bodies, no more victims.

She gave you a titillated sneer, glimpsing at the file in front of her before finding your eyes again. She bit her lip, smirking. “Oooh, lookey, what you found there,” she mocked.

“It’s over, Diane. You’re under arrest for multiple murders among a plethora of other charges. But you already know that,” you told her firmly.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Diane did as told without any protest. She grinned at you the whole time when Beau manhandled her roughly into her handcuffs, bending her over the metal table as he read her the Miranda rights. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in your stomach, though. You had your killer, but somehow this felt far from over. You knew she had an ace up her sleeve and was waiting to lay it on the table.

“But we were just getting started,” she snarled. “Aren’t we having fun?”

“Fun usually looks a little different for me,” Beau retorted and forced her back onto the chair as soon as she was cuffed.

“I bet it does, Sheriff,” she purred with a flirtatious glimmer in her gray eyes. “I think I’ll wait with my confession till tomorrow. Let you two lovebirds enjoy your last night together.”

Beau and you shared a wary look at that. But deep in your heart, you knew there was nothing that could tear you apart. And you hoped Beau knew it, too.

“Look, bitch, I don’t care what you think you’ve planned, but it won’t drive a wedge between us. All it’s gonna do is piss us off more, got it?” you threatened and leaned forward on the table with an angrily knit brow.

Diane chuckled. “Confident. I always liked you, Agent. Aren’t you even a little curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation. You looked up at Beau and rose from your seat. “Let’s go. She’s not gonna talk tonight.”

Beau nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside the door. And just as your hand reached the handle, Diane decided to play her ace of hearts.

“It’s about your husband,” she noted innocently. You could hear the satisfaction in her voice as your whole body stiffened, muscles freezing. Beau felt it, too. His heart began to race. “Dead husband, of course. I always forget that part. Silly me.”

Beau’s hand on your back gave you a soft caress, telling you it was okay to turn around and find out. You didn’t want to care. And most of all, you didn’t want Beau to see that you did. But as you met his forest-green eyes, they were full of understanding.

“What about him?” you asked bravely, your chin held high as you faced her.

Her grin widened before her gaze wandered to Beau. “It’s in my pocket. Mind giving me a hand, Sheriff? You can even touch. I know you have a hard time keeping those hands to yourself,” she taunted.

You scoffed exasperatedly, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Agent. Let me have a little fun. I’m about to be felt up by enough women,” she quipped.

You ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her elbow and holding her in place as your other hand dived into her back pocket. Your brow furrowed as your fingers identified a small plastic stick. Your frown deepened as you pulled out a familiar thumb drive. It wasn’t the first one you had received from her.

Twenty-five.

Had she taken another victim before giving herself up? What was so special about this one? What did it have to do with Randy? Did he ever cheat on you? Did Beau know?

You found that quite unbelievable. In fact, you knew there was no chance in hell that was true. But that did nothing to ease your conscience.

Your hand trembled in sync with your palpitating heartbeats. You tried to steady it as best as you could and keep your jumpy nerves in line as you slipped the small drive into its designated outlet on your laptop, not wanting the team that had gathered around and behind you to catch on to your unnerving emotions.

As you clicked on the MP4 file, your heart came to a standstill when a video popped open in the player. Pressing Play, you sucked in a breath and then forgot to breathe at all.

It only took you a glimpse to die inside.

“Oh God…”

It felt like suffocating. Like jumping off a steep seaside cliff and drowning. Your body hit the ocean rocks; your heart split open.

It only took Beau a second longer to catch on. The horror in your voice had put him on immediate alert before he recognized the figure on the screen, too.

As your head spun and your stomach turned upside down, you couldn’t find any words and bolted outside. You needed fresh air. You needed to breathe. And you needed to goddamn puke.

“Beau, what’s going on? Who’s the guy on the video? You know him?” Jenny asked, her gaze worriedly flashing in the direction you had fled.

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Chapter 9: Marooned – NOVEMBER 29

Dun, dun, dun... The dead have risen in Montana! This is where it becomes a Walking Dead crossover (at least if you ask Donno 😂). Did you call the little resurrection action beforehand? 👀 Lemme know all your wild thoughts in the comments! 💭

So happy to be back with y'all! 🤍

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[magentagalaxies]

re-editing some stuff for the buddy cole doc trailer rn (bruce sent me his notes and they were all very good just a few changes to make it even better) and i keep thinking about how one of my professors who knew kith last year one time interrupted me in the middle of telling him a toronto story after class and was like "y'know you actually remind me a bit of bruce. you have very similar speech patterns" and now as i'm having to hear my voice and bruce's voice back to back on this editing timeline i'm like oh shit we do talk similarly

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[noxtivagus]

yk i still haven't done ffxiv 6.3 n the curiosity n anticipation is still driving me. crazy. a bit. yes.

[frau-wilhelm-klink]

The generational gap between me and people my own age who use a million abbreviations. Don't get me wrong....I use some of them too, but some of y'all be out here trying to abbreviate a whole sentence into a few letters🤣

The generation gap between me and ppl of my own age

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

[pseudowho]

"Oh! Kento-- wait-- please please please--"

Kento turned back on the bustling Tokyo street, the night bullied away by neon signs, light pollution, and the pollution of the wayward drunken laughers. He only came on staff nights out, now, because you'd be there. He peered at you, tie-loose, hair-mussed and bleary, as you knelt in front of a Gacha machine. You rummaged in your purse for a coin.

Kento grunted, smirking, and reached into his clinking pocket, swaying back to you with liquor-rusted words.

"You're drunk. Here--"

"A-ha!" You birthed a 500 yen coin from your purse, triumphant, and Kento felt childishly disappointed that he couldn't pay for your inebriation treat for you. He watched you fumble the coin into the Gacha machine, and turn the wheel, crank, crank, cranking until there sounded a hollow tok, and a skrrr-skrrr-skrrr, tok.

The Gacha pod landed in the dispenser. You gasped, biting your lip in sweet anticipation, and looking up at Kento. He could barely contain himself from his own adoration, wanting nothing more than to reach down and grasp your plush cheeks and press his lips to yours and taste the drink off your tongue and--

"Kiss, Kento."

Kento frog-blinked, wondering if he'd spoken such impurities aloud, and opened his mouth to apologise. But he paused again, leaning down over you, knelt on the pavement, where you held the Gacha pod up to him, and repeated yourself, ditzy-drunk.

"Kiss it, Kento. For luck. For me."

Self-conscious, and grumbling in a way that only deepened your grin, Kento leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the Gacha pod as you laughed. He straightened up, looking up and down the street to see if anyone saw, his vision a few seconds slower than his mind, wading through whiskey.

Heat rose up Kento's neck, and he opened his mouth again to suggest something stupid like why don't you come back to mine for another drink and--

"Awww, damn! This one again!" Kento looked down at you, owlish and inquisitive. You held up a little keychain, with a disappointed half-smile on your lips. You grimaced up at him, shrugging.

"That was my last shot I think. This line discontinues next week. Never mind." You tapped the front of the Gacha machine, stroking the green image of the one you were after, wistful.

Kento pulled you to your feet, and you linked your arm through his, swaying down the street together. Kento swallowed hard, wishing you were on his back, but instead blurted out;

"I'm sorry my kiss wasn't lucky enough."

You sighed, pensive, swinging your keychain on one finger.

"I'm sure they're plenty lucky. Just, maybe not for me."

Kento barely registered your words, distracted and glancing back down the street at the flashing Gacha machine, growing ever more distant.

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Between lessons a few days later, you crept into your office to dump essays on your desk, and snatch five minutes of peace. Settling your mug down, you saw the glimmer of brightly coloured plastic on the centre of your keyboard.

You blinked, curious, before a smile of realisation broke out across your face. A Gacha pod. You recalled, with your cheeks growing hot, how you had begged Kento for his lucky kiss, and how he hadn't corrected you when you told him that his lucky kisses would only be lucky for another girl. You felt a sting of humiliation...

...but, nobody else could have left this gift. Taking a deep breath, and pressing your lips to the pod (unknowingly stealing a kiss that had already been left there for you), you cracked it open-- and squealed with delight, ecstatic and fizzing with joy, to find your collection completed in the eleventh hour.

Later, at the first ring of the lunchtime bell, you knocked on the door to Kento's office. No answer. You knocked again, and gently opened the door, peering round and calling out.

"Kento...?"

Still, no answer. You crept in, closing the door behind you. His office was empty, his desk sparse and functional as always, not wanting to turn his desk into anything that would suggest he thought of work as home. The cupboard on his desk, was, however, straining at its latch, wonky at the closing seam from something stuffed inside.

Curious once more, you stroked the bursting seam of the cupboard, and undid the latch.

A veritable ball-pit burst forth over the office, with Gacha pods of yellow and red and orange and pink and blue and purple and black and white and--

--and every colour, except for green. Dozens and dozens of Gacha pods...except, for green. That one, you held in your purse. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and collected Gacha after Gacha, from beneath cupboards and radiators, rolled to all four corners of Kento's office.

Setting to work, you sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying the pods of their keychains one by one. Thousands and thousands of yen tallied before your eyes, and the plain, unassuming desk behind you said nothing of your coworker's secret obsession. And how he couldn't face you. And how you would never have known.

You sat in silence, with a lap full of empty Gacha pods, and listening to the birds singing songs of summer outside the window. You thought, and thought, and thought. You ripped pages from your notebook, tearing them to shreds, and set to work once more. By the time you were finished, the lunch bell rang again. You crammed the final Gacha back into the cupboard.

You could only wait, and hope.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The warm summer rain started as evening began to roll in. You looked out of the Bistro window from your table for two, your belly twisted with nerves. Your green prize was clasped in your hand, a lucky charm; one earned with far more luck than a simple kiss could give.

You heard the jangling of a bell behind you. You dared not look up, instead just listening-- slow, familiar footsteps. The rattling clunk of a tote bag being placed before you, filled with Gacha pods. The rustle of a stack of carefully unfolded little notes, all with one word on; 'tomorrow'. 'Café'. 'You'. 'Me'. '8pm.'

"You broke into my cupboard."

You pursed the smile between your lips, your eyes closing with the silken chastisement, made without venom. Kento's cologne washed over you as he sat on the chair opposite, removing his glasses in a way that softened his face completely, looking at his lap with a smile. When he looked up at you, it was with a love so unapologetic that you could have cried.

You felt your nose stinging again, and set your green Gacha prize on the table between the two of you. Sheets of rain washed down the Bistro windows, and you cleared your throat, your voice cracking.

"This is quite the prize."

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"Kento! I'm home!"

You dumped your shoes and bag at the door, padding into the living room on bare feet. Kento leaned away from the stove, twirling spaghetti, and offering you the smiles he offered nobody else. He anticipated you, as your mouth opened.

"--yes, I went to the Gachapon. They're on the sofa. Pre-kissed."

You gasped in delight, in the same way you had that night, and bounced onto the sofa, two Gacha leaping with you.

"Two?" You cried, to his shrug, "I only said one-- you can't keep funding my habit, Kento--"

"I'm sure one would have been fine. But, just in case."

You barely registered Kento stepping over to you in his apron, with two steaming bowls, so focused were you on cracking open your Gacha pods. Taking a deep breath, you undid the wrapper...and cheered, your arms flinging into the air.

"Your kisses really are lucky, Kento, gosh...well, one more, then, I--"

You had cracked open the final Gacha. A ring tumbled into your hand, and your brain short-circuited. You trembled, rolling it around in your palm. The two halves of the pod clattered to the floor, forgotten. Your vision swam, and you sniffled, and looked up.

Kento had dipped onto one knee before you, aproned and still, with two bowls of pasta In his hands. In the crucial moment, he seemed anxious. He cleared his throat, his voice thickening.

"I would...like to fund your habit for the rest of our lives. If you'll have me."

A laugh bubbled through your tears, and you wiped your cheeks, allowing Kento to slide the ring into place on your finger. You held his broad hand in serene silence, time standing still, before you spoke.

"...so this ring is just...just one in the collection, right? Wait-- no, Kento, COME BACK, PLEASE-- I'M JUST FUCKING WITH YOU--"

[gibbearish]

does anyone know of a yknow. chill youtuber who's looking for a captioner