#oh shit Hob has a type

[poly-space-nerds]

yesterday i made a post about Hob and Aziraphale both finding out about each other and I raise you something even funnier.

Hob was friends with Aziraphale and Crowley at completely different points in his life and they both knew him with different names. So Hob has to sit down when he walks into the bookstore and sees two of his old, should definitely be dead by a hundred years apart, friends ask ‘Bobby?’ and ‘Robin?’ at the same time.

[glitter-lisp]

Tried giving it a day to let it settle but I am in fact still very frustrated with Rue in the latest episode of acofaf

[linddzz]

Here an assortment of Facts About Morpheus in the Red Flags AU. Where I'm starting to lean more towards the version where they meet and are already into each other before the ""Fake Date"" Incident:

-Jessamy is the raven he took care of when he found her injured outside of his townhome. He now has a room with a window he often keeps open for her to fly into whenever she feels like it. I don't know how legal any of this is in London but tbh it doesn't matter because he also does not know what the laws are and doesn't care.

- His townhome is very dark maximalist in decor, which tends to surprise people at first. There are houseplants and little statues all over, and the walls are hidden behind millions of bookshelves. There is an art studio room and books scattered everywhere. Very recently, hypothetical visitors would notice a lot of child locks and child proofed areas that have a bit of a panicked "I bought every safety thing in the store bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing" energy to them.

- He has a therapist. Yes, the Morpheus that Hob meets is the upgraded version who is actually working on himself already. This is what the improved personal growth version of Morpheus is like.

Anyway, said therapist is Gilbert F. Greene. Because Morpheus going head to head with an unstoppable force of old timey adorable optimism who will also not take his shit is delightful. Dr. Greene insists on going by first names and Morpheus always makes "Gilbert" sound like a slur in retaliation. Some conversations I imagine include:

"Good morning Gilbert, you will never guess who had what you might call a """relapse into self destructive behaviors"""" last night."

"I am very sorry to hear that my dear boy. Let me say though, that I am so very proud of you for calling me! That is a phenomenal step for you and it's wonderful that you are being proactive in your recovery."

"Don't patronize me Gilbert. I will hang up."

(this ended up being super long so I'm just gonna spare y'all's dash. Warning for some lightly touched on mentions of drug use and self destructive behavior.)

- Him getting a therapist was part of the requirements for gaining visitation rights and then weekend custody once a month with Orpheus. The therapy is actually helping, and he's bitter about that.

- His given name is actually Dream, he goes by his middle name. All the Endless siblings have awful names. Desire goes by Adonai because who calls a fucking child Desire???

When Hob meets the rest of the family, Destiny goes "it's good to see you again, Dream" and Hob begins turning to Morpheus like "lmao who tf is named Dream" only to find Morpheus glaring daggers at his brother.

- The Endless parents are rarely around. Some of the siblings still live in the manor and they all use it for family dinners, but it's common for their parents to be off travelling for years at a time.

- Morpheus is an author and a painter who has a bajillion pen names to go with each genre he writes in, so it's hard to figure out exactly how much he's written. Even before becoming a father though, his face and full name is mostly associated with children's fantasy stories that he illustrates himself, and his Art vs Artist vibe is very Miyazaki.

Him and Calliope collaborated on a series of illustrated poetic translations of ancient epics. Their divorce was exactly as messy as one might imagine the divorce between two passionate artist types might be.

- His downward spiral of self destruction started before the divorce but oh boy did it nosedive during and after.

- When she got pregnant after divorce proceedings had started, there was a moment where they were both meeting with lawyers and one asked something along the lines of if this meant they would try for reconciliation and staying together. Calliope said "no" immediately.

It's not like Morpheus exactly thought they would get back together, but the speed and firmness of that hard "no" had his head screaming with white noise and some badly thought out self medication for months, which ended up being why Calliope got full custody and he is just now able to get more involved with the now two year old Orpheus.

- His rebound with Thessaly was also messy. She was just in it for a fun fling and he was... Morpheus. He found out he got dumped when she informed him she was already in the process of moving back to Greece, and Johanna said he needed to be banned from any more beautiful Greek expats from that day forth.

- No one can figure out what the deal is with him and Lucienne. The simple explanation is they're queerplatonic soul mates. Lucienne's wife Gault thinks they're a bit codependent (not an inaccurate assessment), but is more civil with him since the day she yelled at him to go get an actual therapist instead of constantly putting his shit on Lucienne, and he actually did. (It is unclear if this or Calliope demanding therapy for him to get visitation with Orpheus was his wake up call catalyst, but probably a bit of both.)

- Lucienne was originally a personal assistant. She now works as his editor since she seems to be the only person who can keep track of all the shit he's written. She is also the only person who can get away with critiquing his works in progress without sending him into a fit where he might burn all his manuscripts.

- When Morpheus started mentioning this Gadling guy a lot, Lucienne paid a visit to the pub. Not to do anything so crude as to threaten a man's life if he breaks her sensitive friend's heart. What could she do anyway? No no. She's just here to smile with zero trace of humor and ask some questions while looking him up and down through her spectacles. Hob will later describe this as one of the most pants shitting moments of his life, and he felt like he got transformed back into a primary school kid who talked slightly too loudly in the library.

- Morpheus went through a slutty phase during and shortly after University that was less of a healthy and fun exploration of his sexuality and libido, and a bit more "I will take anyone who will have me in any way they will want me and I know that if nothing else, I'm pretty."

- Him and Johanna used to have a game seeing who could get more free drinks in one night. This had to be put to an end when it turned into the catalyst for at least three screaming fights between them.

Fight subjects were

Quality vs Quantity. Morpheus insists his ability to get people to buy him a single glass of wine that costs £50 beats Johanna's cheap beers. Johanna disagreed. loudly.

Is it cheating when Morpheus ran to the bathroom to smudge on some eyeliner and then stole Johanna's lip gloss? Is it further cheating when Johanna realized that his main method of getting drinks was "act like Adonai"? Accusations that he would ever act like his horrid annoying younger sibling sent Morpheus into an absolute tantrum.

Competitiveness DID overcome sibling rivalry enough for Morpheus to go to Adonai for makeover assistance. This backfired because it made Morpheus hot to the point of intimidating, and Johanna won that night.

- After Hob starts flirting with him, Morpheus goes suspiciously into a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite inspired art era featuring lots of noble knights with dark sunlit hair. A lot of them seem to be lured in by dark haired fae entities all La Belle Sans Merci style. It's disgustingly obvious.

-Therapy has made him juuuuust self aware enough to know that he MAYBE tends to go a bit hard and fast with romance. This makes him a little more cautious with Hob than he usually would be, and he's doing a bit of "Hob is so nice and sweet and interested but I'm gonna mess it up :(((" pining. Everyone around him is fucking sick of it. He is not self aware enough to realize he's still going super hard and fast, but this time he's doing it while sighing sadly and drawing Hob in his sketchbook all the fucking time.

[gabessquishytum]

tw suicide mentioned

So Hob doesn’t understand why people don’t love live, he feels like one of the only people who actually has a will to live. so of course he decides to work for a suicide hotline. And things are going good, he’s helping people. and then M calls. “I see no reason left to live,”

“oh um, hello…”

“you have two minutes to convince me otherwise”

“woah woah woah, where are you?” Hob asked feeling frantic. the stranger on the other end of the line sighs, “on the ledge of my building why else would I be calling you?”

Hob is about to dial 911, “could I pursued you to get off the ledge and back into your house?”

the stranger sighs, and hob hears some shuffling and then a door clicking closed. ok good, not in imminent danger.

“you said you wanted reasons to live yes?”

“Indeed, I do not understand why someone would want an eternity of this,” the stranger grumbled.

“I want to live to be a hundred! I’d say that’s pretty close to eternity as for reasons to live Have you considered…chimneys?”

“excuse me?”

“chimneys are fantastic you know, we wouldn’t have had that seen from Mary poppins and handkerchiefs! Where would we be without hankies? I’m sure in a lot grosser society,”

the stranger sighs, “something from this century Mr…”

“Hob, Hob Gadling, now let’s see was ac this century?”

“no”

“how about iPhones?”

“I will not live for an iPhone,”

“what about love?” Shit, he crossed a line.

“she left me… took our son too”

“oh…”

They spent the next hour talking Hob talked about his dead wife and being a single father while the stranger gave the first letter of his name. Fair trade.

M hung up feeling a little more optimistic and Hob gave himself a pat on the back for a good job.

“Hob could you come here?” Ronnie wasn’t the chatty type so hob assumed something was very wrong.

“hey Ronnie, what’s up?”

“well um there’s a man whose been calling everyday and he’s been asking for you specifically…” Ronnie blushed.

“Can you transfer the call to my phone?”

Ronnie obliged.

Hob picked up the phone preparing for the worst. “is this…Hob Gadling?”

it was M! Hob was mortified.

“M what are you doing calling everyday, is something wrong?”

“no, I’m fine, I feel better than I have in a long time. I was trying to reach you to say thank you and to…chat”

hob sighed, “M I’ve got a job,”

he heard a defeated whimper on the other end.

“Alright alright I’ll give, listen I’m not supposed to do this get out a pen and paper cause I won’t say it twice.”

and hob gave M his personal phone number.

and suddenly Morpheus and Hob had something new to live for, love.

-🦎

Ohhh boy yeah I can totally see this playing out! I'm definitely super fascinated by the idea of Hob working/volunteering on a crisis hotline. Especially when he's kind of at the opposite end of the spectrum. I do think he'd be genuinely interested in why people experience such drastically different views on life. Maybe he'd hope that his own outlook on life could be helpful. He knows that he's lucky - it's time to give back to the community and appreciate exactly how lucky he is to have good mental health.

M is the person who really teaches Hob about what its like to struggle. But still, he hopes that he might have made a difference. Maybe it was dumb to talk about chimneys and love, but it did get M to open up! Hob has so many hopes for the man, and he's secretly thrilled that he actually gets an update that M is feeling hopeful too! It's against all the rules, but talking to M - Morpheus - every day... Hob feels like it's doing both of them good. Morpheus is in therapy, he's feeling more confident, he sees a little more brightness in the world. In turn, Hob feels a greater understanding of himself and his own life. Hes a better person, now. And he feels a love for Morpheus which is growing every day.

It's slow, and steady, and there are bumps in the road. Morpheus’s mental health comes above all else for Hob, and he's keen to make sure that his lover takes care of himself. Even if that means taking breaks from their relationship. Hob knows that as long as his Morpheus is alive and well, he'll be happy. And if they keep on working together, step by step, there's a bright future for both of them.

And maybe one day it'll be Morpheus working at the crisis hotline right alongside Hob, telling everyone exactly why life is worth living.

[valiantstarlights]

[Loving You is Cherry Pie] Chapter 3

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Featuring doting father Alpha!Hob (43) and his son, recently presented Omega!Dream (20).

By happy coincidence, this chapter fills the prompts 'Call in the night' and 'College' for @mr-sadman's Sandmanniversary2024 Day 2. 😊 Thanks to @seiya-starsniper for helping me with one of the sections! 🥰

CWs: Off-screen violence. 👀

--

SAN

"...'llo?"

"Good evening, Corinthian."

"Whuh-- (crash) Shit-- (a dull, heavy sounding thud) Fuck! (pained wheeze, rustling fabric, scrambling) Hello? Dream?"

"...I'm here. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm-- (pained hiss) I'm good. I just, you know. Fell."

"I heard. Has the fall exacerbated your injuries?"

"...Uh, what?"

"Exacer-- Has the fall made your injuries worse?"

"Oh. Uh... (rustling fabric) No? I don't think so?"

"That's good."

"..."

"..."

"...Are you calling to check up on me? 'Cause I'm fine. That bitch didn't beat me up as badly as I beat her."

"I apologize."

"What for? If anyone should be apologizing, it's her. Are you alright?"

"...Yes. Thank you for lending me your jumper. I'll give it back to you after I have it washed and scent-cleaned."

"No. Keep it."

"Corinthian--"

"I'm serious. I have more, and black looks better on you than it does on me anyway."

"..."

"(sigh) It doesn't... It doesn't have to mean anything. But if it keeps you warm and my scent protects you from--"

"(sharp inhale) You...?"

"...Yeah. But if you're worried I'll tell anyone, I won't. Trust me."

"..."

"Look, I... (deep breath followed by a long, drawn out sigh) My omega parent. He also..."

"...Oh. Is he..?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. (sigh) I promise, I don't have any hidden agendas or whatever about you keeping my sweater. Jumper? And anyway, I already know you don't like me--"

"I did not say that. It's just, that night, I wasn't... I was having a very stressful evening."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"So today... Thank you. For doing what you did."

"Of course. It was the proper thing to do."

"..."

"(stifled yawn) Oh, sorry."

"No. I have taken too much of your time that you could've otherwise spent sleeping. Good night, Corinthian."

"Yeah, alright. And you're sure you're okay? Aside from..."

"Yes."

"Well, alright then. G'night, Dream."

--

RG

Good morning, baby! I hope you slept well. (brightly smiling emoji)  Eleanor and I went jogging awhile ago. We're early enough to watch the sunrise for a bit, and now we're dining at this restaurant owned by a nice old lady who used to be a weightlifter in her youth! I think that even at 70, she has bigger muscles than I do. Here's my order: one chicken burger with a side of sweet potato fries, and a watermelon smoothie. (RG sent a photo.) [Image description: A delicious-looking chicken burger piled high with romaine lettuce is on a porcelain plate beside a generous serving of sweet potato fries. The watermelon smoothie is three-quarters full, and while it has a drinking straw leaning against one side of the glass cup, there is a hint of light pink lipstick on the rim of the cup. Across the table, Eleanor's pale, delicate hands are seen holding a knife and fork over her own food, which is some type of steak salad.] I think you would love the food here. Shall we go together next time?

(✔ Seen)

--

SAN

I'm serious about the sweater. Keep it. And if you need someone to talk to, just call. No strings whatsoever. 

Noted. Thank you.

--

The Raven Tricycle

Matthew Youngman Luce, is Dream wearing an alpha's jumper? My beta nose can't smell anything rn except food, grass, and other students panicking about being late for class. Oh hey that rhymed! (smiling emoji with shades)

Lucienne Oldman He is. Can't place whose scent it is, though. Any ideas, Jessamy?

Jessamy Middleman Later.

Matthew Youngman Okay he's gone now. (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A posh blonde woman in a white sundress is slowly sipping her tea with obvious enjoyment. The text below reads, "Spill the tea, sis."]

Lucienne Oldman Why are you still typing? Just tell us out loud.

Jessamy Middleman Matty is 100% gonna yell. I'm typing so he can just yell in all caps in the chat.

Matthew Youngman (roll eyes emoji) OW You didn't have to hit me.

Lucienne Oldman You were bouncing your leg. I got annoyed. Just wait patiently for Jessamy to finish typing.

Matthew Youngman (roll eyes emoji)

Jessamy Middleman Okay. So before I say anything, I want you both to know that I learned about all of this from other people. Not Dream. Dream didn't tell me ANYTHING.

Lucienne Oldman Go on.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A cartoon hamster wearing a chef's uniform is chopping some chives. The words, 'CHOP CHOP' are flashing on the bottom area of the GIF.]

Jessamy Middleman Yesterday afternoon, Hippolyta Trevor (omega, Interior or Fashion Design major, not sure which) confronted Dream about him """stealing""" her boyfriend.

Matthew Youngman Nah. No way.

Jessamy Middleman That's what the quotation marks are for, Matty.

Lucienne Oldman Who's her boyfriend?

Jessamy Middleman Hector Hall. Alpha. Architecture major. Good-looking guy, but definitely not Dream's type.

Matthew Youngman And you know his type? OW STOP HITTING ME

Jessamy Middleman Anyway. So apparently, Hippolyta threw an entire bucket of very cold and very disgusting sewer water at Dream, threw the bucket AT him, pushed him so hard he fell on the floor on his ass, and then she starts to yell at him for being an S word.

Matthew Youngman THE FUCK??

Lucienne Oldman Christ.

Matthew Youngman CRAZY PSYCHO BITCH Also S word??? 

Lucienne Oldman Slut, Matthew.

Matthew Youngman I knew that.

Lucienne Oldman Are there videos of this?

Jessamy Middleman No. Not that part, anyway. The videos taken by the witnesses only caught the later parts.

Lucienne Oldman And then? Did Dream fight back?

Jessamy Middleman Not physically? He apparently just said something.

Matthew Youngman Something???

Jessamy Middleman The person I heard it from was more focused on Hippolyta going batshit crazy to hear what Dream said.

Lucienne Oldman But they said Dream said something to Hippolyta. Definitely?

Jessamy Middleman Yeah.

Matthew Youngman And then? What did she say? In reply to Dream? Oh my god you're typing so muchhh (one crying emoji followed by three tea emojis)

Jessamy Middleman Just more accusations of Dream being, and I quote, "a slut who would spread his legs for anybody." And then Dream said something like, "You would know." Which, while being a sick burn, also made Hippolyta scream at him some more then tackle him to the ground.

Matthew Youngman TEAM DREAM TEAM DREAM ALSO DESTRUCTION 100 FOR HIPPOCRATES HIPPOLYTA*

Lucienne Oldman There's more. You're still typing. Good gods.

Jessamy Middleman But just as she was about to beat Dream up MMA style, Corinthian (yes, that one) comes out of nowhere, bodily lifts Hippolyta from Dream and throws her against the nearest wall, takes his jumper off and tells Dream to put it on, and then he starts to beat HER up.

Lucienne Oldman SHUT THE FUCK UP MATTHEW

Jessamy Middleman I TOLD YOU HE WOULD YELL

Matthew Youngman SORRY

Lucienne Oldman And then?

Jessamy Middleman Dream managed to leave unnoticed in the chaos, Hippolyta is currently recovering in the omegan wing of the infirmary but won't get punished AT ALL, and Corinthian is suspended for a month.

Matthew Youngman (five exclamation point and question mark emojis)

Lucienne Oldman But that's ridiculous. He was only defending Dream against Hippolyta.

Jessamy Middleman Yeah, I don't think administration knows that. The most circulated videos only caught Corinthian beating Hippolyta up, while there is absolutely zero videos circulating right now that caught Hippolyta attacking Dream.

Lucienne Oldman Seriously?

Jessamy Middleman Yeah. And anyway, to administration, it's still an alpha male beating up an omega female. It doesn't look good.

Lucienne Oldman Without any context, Corinthian WOULD be seen as the bad guy. Never mind that he was only acting in defense of Dream. Christ. What a mess.

Matthew Youngman So now Dream is...what, wearing Corinthian's jumper to show everyone that he and Corinthian are together, actually, and that Corinthian was just defending his omega boyfriend from getting beaten up by another omega?

Lucienne Oldman They're not together, Matthew.

Matthew Youngman Yeah, but...If you don't know either of them, you'd think that, right? If you saw Dream wearing Corinthian's jumper?

Jessamy Middleman Right.

Matthew Youngman What can I say? I'm a genius. (smiling emoji with shades)

Jessamy Middleman Do I tell this to Mr. G? I feel like I should, but...

Lucienne Oldman Jessamy, you know he would descend upon the university like an angel of the apocalypse and ruin Hippolyta's life for what she did. Possibly even Hector's as well.

Matthew Youngman She deserves it though. But wait, what about the Hector guy?

Lucienne Oldman What about him?

Matthew Youngman Where was he when all this happened?

Jessamy Middleman Fuck if I know. But he IS one of the alphas leaving courting gifts for Dream at our dorm. That's why I recognized his name when it was mentioned, and how I know what he looks like.

Matthew Youngman FUCKING PLOT TWIST

Lucienne Oldman And you're sure nothing happened between him and Dream?

Jessamy Middleman 100%. Dream isn't pregnant with Hector's kid or whatever it is you're thinking. What? Don't look at me like that. Do you really think that if I find out that someone forced Dream into something he didn't want to do, that I wouldn't inform Mr. G. immediately, beat the person up while waiting for him to arrive, and then gleefully watch as he unalives them with his bare hands?

Matthew Youngman ...You scare me sometimes, sis.

Jessamy Middleman Good.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A cartoon raven is hiding inside a Halloween pumpkin. It is very cautiously peeking one eye out through one of the pumpkin's 'eyes.']

Lucienne Oldman I think you should talk to Dream first, Jess. Find out what really happened, and then decide whether or not Hippolyta Trevor deserves to meet her end in the form of Mr. Gadling.

Jessamy Middleman Okay. Hold on.

Lucienne Oldman I didn't say you have to do it right now. 

Matthew Youngman Shhh

--

Jessamy

"(whispering) Yes?"

"...Why are you whispering?"

"(whispering) I'm in class right now."

"What class? You're free until 2:30."

"(whispering) Sitting in. What is it?"

"...Never mind. Let's talk later."

--

The Raven Tricycle

Jessamy Middleman He's sitting in on some class.

Matthew Youngman Why are we still talking over chat? My thumbs are taaairdddeiueioueio

Jessamy Middleman Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the one typing a whole bunch. (roll eyes emoji)

Lucienne Oldman Maybe he's sitting in on Corinthian's classes and taking notes for him as thanks?

Jessamy Middleman Probably.

Lucienne Oldman Stop biting your nails.

Jessamy Middleman Sorry. I'm just. I don't know what to do, Luce. I feel like I should tell Mr. G what's going on, but I KNOW Dream wouldn't want me to.

Matthew Youngman Then don't? Butt out and quit being a busybody? FUCKING OW STOP IT (three ambulance emojis, followed by three police emojis)

Lucienne Oldman Alright, children, that's enough. Jessamy, stop punching Matthew. Matthew, stop antagonizing Jessamy.

Matthew Youngman SHE STARTED IT

Jessamy Middleman I am NOT a busybody!

Lucienne Oldman (sighing emoji) Stop fighting for a second and let me type.

Matthew Youngman (Matthew sent a GIF.) [Image description: A teenage girl wearing a muddy shirt and denim overalls is sticking her tongue out mockingly and making faces.]

Jessamy Middleman (middle finger emoji)

Lucienne Oldman As much as it pains me to admit it, Matthew is PARTIALLY right. Out of the three of us, you know Dream the best. And if you think that he wouldn't want you to go behind his back and tell his dad about what happened, then you shouldn't. THAT BEING SAID, if this escalates, like say Hippolyta gets better and decides to attack Dream again, then with or without Dream's consent, you HAVE to tell Mr. Gadling. Stop biting your nails, Jessamy. Seriously what is it? What are you not telling us?

Matthew Youngman Is this about Corinthian? Because like, the guy did rescue Dream from getting beaten into a pulp. AND he lent him his jumper after Hippolyta threw nasty ass water at him.

Jessamy Middleman Just really worried, I guess.

Matthew Youngman sus

Jessamy Middleman Fuck off.

Lucienne Oldman Let's just continue this later. You and Matthew have a class in five minutes.

Matthew Youngman I'm vamoosing Bye old people

Jessamy Middleman Kk Have a good time at the library! (cheerful hug emoji)

--

SAN

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Are you the one who sent me handwritten class notes?"

"Perhaps."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. As thanks."

"...Oh. Uh...thank you. That's really... Thank you."

"Of course."

"I mean...wow. (paper rustling) These are really detailed."

"Were you expecting anything less?"

"Honestly? I wasn't expecting anything at all. (paper rustling) Your handwriting is fucking gorgeous."

"..."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry. I didn't-- That doesn't-- I wasn't flirting. I was just--"

"It's fine. Thank you. For the compliment."

"Yeah. Of course."

"..."

"...So uh. Thanks. For the notes."

"Yes. You're welcome."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Goodbye, Corinthian."

"Bye. (muffled) 'Fucking gorgeous?'  What the hell is wrong with me? Stupid, stupid, stup--(the line abruptly cuts off)"

"...(hangs up)"

--

Dream

Hey, baby. I know you're busy being the most brilliant student your university has ever seen, but if you could just text your lonely Papa how you are right now, you would make me the happiest man in the world. Hey, Bean. Aunt Jo here. Confiscated Hob's phone for a sec because he's being incredibly needy and pathetic. You're okay though, right? Aside from the seenzone you subjected him to earlier this morning?

I'm fine. Must've snoozed while replying. Is he drunk?

As an animal that rhymes with drunk. I can't remember which one that is right now. But I'm not drunk! I'm tipsy. That's a very important distinction.

Take care going home.

Will do, Beanie. Love you! Hob is fighting me right now, claiming that he loves you more, but gzlutqkharsgz Don't listen to your Aunt Jo, baby. I love you the most. Not more, but most. More than anything or anyone.

I'm calling Mervyn.

--

Mervyn

Got your dad and aunt safely home, kid. (Mervyn sent a photo.)  [Image description: Jo and Hob, both dressed in business wear, are lying on long, comfortable-looking couches parallel to each other. They have hand towels over their eyes. Their footwear have been removed and are placed on the floor next to their feet. On the coffee table between the two couches is a plastic pitcher full of water, two plastic cups, and two white pills. There is an empty bucket on the floor near Jo's head.]

Thank you, Mervyn. Say hello to your family for me.

Yep. (Mervyn sent a video.) [Video description: Mervyn's voice from behind the camera is immediately heard. He says, "Dream says hi." The man being filmed is an older Chilean gentleman who smiles brightly at the mention of Dream's name. He says nothing and just waves at the camera. In his arms is a sleeping corgi.] After I stopped recording, he asked how you are and when you'll visit. I think he's itching to cook up a feast. For my sake please say you'll go.

I'll go.

(Mervyn sent a video.)  [Video description: Mervyn's husband, now sitting in bed to his left, is excitedly flipping through a thick notebook filled with handwritten recipes. He has a bunch of bookmarks on one hand, and he is marking pages as he goes.] Bring food containers if you know what's good for you.

Dare I ask how many?

At least 50.

...Will do. Good night to you three.

Good night, kid. (Mervyn sent a photo.) [Image description: The corgi is now sleeping on its back in the space between Mervyn and his husband's legs. The bedside lamp on the left side is still on, implying that Mervyn's husband is still looking at recipes.]

--

RG

Good morning, baby. Sorry about yesterday. Jo and I did a cheese and wine tasting, and...well. But I meant what I said. I do love you the most, and it would make me very happy to get updates from you. How you are, what you're eating, what you're learning in class, what's going on in your friend group's DND campaign...anything, really. Only when you're not too busy, though! I just miss you a lot these days, and it would mean the world to me to hear from you more often.

(You sent a photo.) [Image description: A beautiful pink-hued sunrise in the background looks striking against the greys of university buildings in the middle ground. The foreground is a bit chaotic, however, with Jessamy and Matthew having photobombed the shot. Jessamy is making a silly face and holding up a peace sign, while Matthew is a blur in mid-air, caught in the middle of a jump kick. Lucienne is at the very edge of the photo with a cup of coffee in her hands, looking very done with the younger two's antics.] It's a beautiful day.

Still not as beautiful as you, baby. But thank you for the update. Love you.

(black heart emoji)

[avelera]

Come Live with Me and Be My Love ☼: how i came up with the idea :)

Funny enough, I can share with you the EXACT post detailing my thought process back from when I first had the idea!

But to looking back... I think I really just wanted to do a "fake dating/arranged marriage" type AU where Dream is sort of forced to fall in love with Hob throughout the course of pretending to be in a relationship?

Like I truly think that if you put a gun to his head and told Dream "You have to marry ONE living human and stay with them for a year," he'd first scoff at the notion and think it's beneath him but again, gun to his head, would probably be like, "Hob has occasionally amused me in the past and might not be totally unbearable/doomed if I was forced to spend more than the usual amount of time with him so, sure, let's go with Hob." But like... not *really* expecting to get anything more out of it for himself beyond some mildly interesting sex?

But I think Hob is kind of the essence of, "I do much better in the interview than on the application." Like on *paper* as a former peasant etc, he's not really a good match for Dream. But he's *so* resilient, and *so* likable and *so* willing to put up with Dream's bullshit and (in my opinion) so starving for pour all his affection onto someone like Dream (well, *specifically* Dream) who isn't going to up and die on him that once you're trapped in the web of a relationship with him, you're like, "Oh shit, this guy is some grade A husband material, huh?"

So I was really interested in writing a version of Dream who *isn't* in love with Hob, who doesn't *expect* to ever love Hob, but thinks Hob is tolerable in a "If I had to pick a human" sort of way, only to get smacked across the face with like, wow this guy is actually *amazing* and an *amazing* match for me and wow this is all gone to shit real quick and all my plans are in tatters because this guy I knew who once had *fleas* is a really amazing husband and partner and we're very well suited and oh no, I'm actually really falling in love???

And 1789 made the most sense to put that story in, I want to say, for a variety of reasons, but mostly it seemed hmmm.... It seemed the era where Dream had the most *recent* memory of having been at least a little tempted to sleep with Hob. So if it's within a few decades of that meeting (it had to be decades later, I wasn't going to place it directly in 1789 because Hob *had* to have made some amends for the shipping business before that, he had to be LONG out of that business before I'd cast him as a romantic lead) and Dream, gun to his head, was told he had to pick a human, I figured it was realistic that he'd go, "Oh yeah, Hob and I had that flirty exchange recently. He doesn't seem *totally* unbearable, if I had to pick a human." (1589 or 1889 the vibe would be VERY different and Dream absolutely would NOT have picked Hob, and obviously Giving Sanctuary is my 1689 take on if their relationship started then).

But yeah, mostly it was out of a desire to see Dream give Hob a chance and for Hob to knock it out of the park, and then everything sort of fell into place after that that it would be a wager gone wrong, that it would be post 1789, etc etc because that was the supporting details necessary for this sort of silly wager to occur, y'know?

[rcedge]

how would you fantasy book Adam's return? do you think he's going after the tnt title and getting involved with jack/the elite? or will he be involved in the christian/luchasaurus storyline? or something else entirely? i wish we had a better idea of the timeline going forward!

oh this is a really fun question ^_^

umm obviously my ideal endgame is to have him and christian together again but i don't think he'd go straight to working with him when he gets back, adam out of kayfabe (who i will refer to as beth's adam for clarity and because it amuses me to do so) has said a large part about what drew him to aew, aside from jay's being there of course, is the fact that there are so many guys on this roster he's never had a match with. going after the tnt title and the cope open (which i still think should have been called the copen challenge but he clearly doesn't listen to me) was like, the perfect way of getting to go up against a whole bunch of people quickly , so i don't know if beth's adam will want to finish what he started there or not. going after it again could get him more matches with varied people but also i don't know if he'd want to do the same type-plotline twice.

in my ideal world he comes back as a heel, i think beth's adam does his best work as a heel or an otherwise insane violent psychopath. i guess the obvious choice for any feud with the elite would be putting them against a face, but i guess they don't HAVE to do that. i could see our adam going thru the ranks to earn a title shot after world's end with like, single-minded violent obsession, kinda like he was post-e&c and pre-rated r superstar in the mid '00s, which would mirror the very positive-minded hard-working adam going after the tnt title after world's end. but i don't know!!

the other thing is if i hbad to hear more about adam hogan comparisons i'd put my head through a fucking wall, as much as i love to see him with gold. it's my opinion that just because he was winning the cope open matches doesn't mean he wasn't doing business or whatever the fuck, a lot of the guys featured in the cope open were people just coming back from injury (kor) people who usually don't get singles matches (hob) or people who dont really get matches often at all (griff garrison), and i thought all of the matches showcased the abilities of the guys he was up against super well. none of them were squashes and after every match adam went on about how good his opponent was! but i suppose i'm biased, and also a stupid fucking mark, or whatever. this entire paragraph is a bizarre aside. as taz says: but i digress.

it's such a bummer that we'll never know how his title run was supposed to go 😭 this could have been the summer of sexy vampire cope but we were ROBBED because he is KIND OF DUMB. i was SO FUCKING excited to see him have the whole brood shit again and i was really lookign forward to seeing what he was gonna do with that because it was Hot and vampires are Cool. but if my guesstimations are right and he's back in october, which he is clearly doing in honor of my birthday, it would be right around halloween which would be a fun time to launch an espooky gimmick like that. i would really really love it if he had gangrel on more too..........

thank you for the question this was really delightful!! have a baby adam as my thanks

[snarkythewoecrow]

we're pretending it's still wip wednesday

@kingofdarkness00 is always lovely and tagging me, so here is me aiming to actually do one close to the right day

okay, another random snippet from the dream/hob angst fest with all the tropes, yes, believe it or not, this snippet is actually from the same fic... what can I say? lack of inspiration and random ideas never seems to be a problem, but um, not sure how to set this up, except, think post all the trauma i put hob through, hob going through a rough recovery, and dream sorta struggling a bit, being a bit frustrated, emotions are hard and shit, so basically, this snippet is a bit of the scene where dream retreats to seek council of the one person who he trusts to truly understand him and what hob is going through, even if he feels a bit selfish for doing it... enter calliope stage right please....

Calliope ducked her head. “I would be remiss if I were to say you appeared well—as for a god of sleep and dreams, you look awfully tired, Oneiros.” A painful smile. “Perhaps it’s the weariness at being unable to change the past that is catching up to me.”  “So, does this mean you are ready to speak of Orpheus—of what happened to our son?” Guilt seized his throat and squeezed—because what did it make him—how self-serving—that he hadn’t invited her to reflect on the memories of their child, to offer the support that he’d neglected to give so long ago? His lips parted, words hanging from his tongue before remembering why he’d summoned her—selfish or not. “No, though speaking about our son is something I’d like to do—soon—if you were amenable to visiting again—that is to say, if you don’t find my company as intolerable as you once did.” Her breathy laugh and eye roll proved her still better than him. “Just as you’d answer my call—I shall always attend to yours. So, if we’re not here to discuss our history, then what is it that has affected you enough to summon me?” She raised her brows, head tilting. “Because that is a look I haven’t seen in so very long—not since we met our end.” He clenched his jaw—defensive for no reason other than pride or perhaps fear of being perceived. “I—“ he began, then stopped, sharp edges softening at her radiance, warmth. At her forgiveness. Her and Hob were more alike than he’d realized. What did humans say about a type? Shaking the thoughts aside, he pressed forward despite the itch in his throat. “I’ve come to ask for advice, as I’ve—I’ve found myself not knowing what to do—and—and I suppose you were right. I've changed--changed in ways that have left me... questioning--lost. Perhaps even fearful of making the same mistakes I once made with you." Something seemed to have become clear to her, as a quiet "Oh," escaped her lips. "Oh, Oneiros, you continue to surprise me still." He huffed. “That’s all you have to offer?” She rolled her eyes. “Scowling like a wet cat will not earn any favors. Can't a woman remark on the things she sees?" “I don't recall you stating more than your astonishment." "I suppose--though I speculate it to be true." His brows lifted, otherwise his expression blank. "And do I want to know what you suspect of me?" "That you're in love—that you've opened your heart in a way you'd never quite been able to do with me." The guilt burned his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t—“ But he didn’t get to finish as two fingers pressed to his lips. “No, do not apologize for love, Onieros—you hold no more sway over the decisions of your heart than you do the choice of the stars to shine in your eyes.” He stayed silent, knowing better than to challenge a Muse on such a topic. Then, the fingers moved from his lips, her palm sliding to cup his cheek. “Now, come, take my hand and sit beneath the cypress,” she said, threading together their fingers. “I fancy to hear the tale of the one who claimed your heart—who has you seeking my council in such a state.”

@buckybeardreams @thefangirloutof-time @kydrogendragon

[just-j-really]

So I was talking with @ghostboyjules about Tragic Dreamling Songs, and ended up accidentally plotting out a Dreamling fic based on the elder scrolls: oblivion?

(You do not need to know anything about oblivion to understand this, I promise. Hear me out.)

Dream is a mage specializing in illusion/mind control type-magic. He's technically of royal blood, but he's the spare of a spare of a spare and he'd only end up on the throne if literally everyone died. As a teenager, he was an arrogant little shit about this, right up until he accidentally got a lover killed while digging into Eldritch Magic. He then hid himself away in a backwater town, as an extremely solitary artist.

He's living peacefully, if not happily, right up until a gate to hell opens in the middle of his town. He takes sanctuary in a church with some other citizens, and is essentially just there waiting to make a tragic last stand when hell's soldiers inevitably bust in (he's a POWERFUL mage but even he can't stand alone against hell).

And all of a sudden the doors burst open and- it's not a demon.

It is Some Guy, in mismatched armor he clearly looted off a dead man. He doesn't look like he's bathed in months. Even from a distance he reeks of smoke and sulfur.

"I'm looking for the artist," he says.

(putting the rest under a readmore because dear GOD it got long)

"How the fuck did you get here," Dream's neighbors say. "There is a hellgate outside."

"Oh, I destroyed it," the man says. "What, like it's hard?"

There's a lot of confusion after that; the man has news from the outside world. This hellgate wasn't an isolated incident- a mage named Burgess who'd had a grudge against the royal family made a deal with the Devil to have them assassinated. The unfortunate side effect of this deal is that now Lucifer has access to the earth, and is opening hellgates in order to take over completely.

This particular hellgate is closed, though; the man goes off with some soldiers to retake the rest of the town, but eventually he finds Dream again. He still hasn't bathed, but at least someone gave him a suit of armor that doesn't technically belong to a corpse.

He tells Dream that his name is Hob, and he's been sent by the royal family's librarian to find Dream because everybody else above him in the line of succession is dead. Surprise, Dream's the Emperor now.

Dream, petty, is like "They sent you?"

Hob's like "Yeah and I was in jail for several murders so you can see how bad things have gotten."

(I think Hob's just a bandit trying to make himself sound cool but I'm open to saying he's an assassin)

Hob eventually proves that he's working for the royal family (and apparently the deceased emperor had a prophetic dream about him?), and brings Dream to Lucienne. She explains that there's a ritual, technically part of the coronation ceremony, that they can do to close the hellgates and banish Lucifer. Only problem is it requires artifacts or relics connected to seven eldritch, powerful deities. One from each, except the god of Dreams- the rulers of this land had special ties to the King of Dreams so he needs to take precedence in the ritual. He's got three.

As the ruler-to-be-with-said-special-ties-to-the-King-of-Dreams, Dream is the only one who can actually complete this ritual. He can't risk his life, and the members of the royal court left after everybody got assassinated are, you know... the librarian. Very knowledgeable, limited combat skills. So the person who keeps getting sent out to retrieve these relics and/or the thing they need to find the relic- is Hob.

Dream, who grudgingly grew to kinda enjoy Hob's company while Hob was escorting him to Lucienne, bids him goodbye the first time expecting him to die.

Hob shows up three weeks later, long after everyone had given up hope. When asked why it took so long he says he got sidetracked and ended up stuck in a painting for a few days? And then he had to rescue this girl from a cult? it was very important. But anyway, he's got the sand!

And this just keeps happening. Dream keeps expecting Hob to get killed looking for these relics, Hob, against all odds, keeps surviving. Dream's actually starting to think they have a hope of winning this.

He and Hob grow closer in the brief moments they can snatch when Hob's not off nearly getting himself killed. He learns that Hob is actually decently handsome when he's bathed.

When Hob returns after winning the relic from the goddess of Death, having actually spoken to her in the process, Dream yells at him for his recklessness for a full ten minutes, before pulling a startled Hob into a hug that is extremely painful on his bruised ribs. Hob doesn't complain.

That night, Dream confesses how he got his first love killed. They were looking into drawing on these eldritch gods for magic- the King of Dreams, specifically, because clearly Dream, a member of the royal family, would be powerful enough to control the god with connections to the royal family. His lover thought they should stop, Dream pushed on anyway, she paid the price for it.

Hob, in turn, confesses how he'd turned to banditry, that at first it was because he was literally starving to death but at a certain point it became too easy not to see people as people. They grow closer after that- they were already close, Hob managed to figure out Dream better in their brief meetings than anyone else has, and Dream's somehow done the same for Hob even though Hob's much more of an open book, but it goes deeper, now.

Not long afterwards, Hob needs to go retrieve the Dream King's ruby, the final piece of the Close the Hellgates spell. And... there's no way he survives this. It's being held in a pocket dimension belonging to Burgess. Sure, Hob's survived everything up until this point but this entire dimension is controlled by Burgess. It's not possible for him to survive there. And yet it's their only option.

(Dream tries to tell Hob he loves him, here. Hob presses a brief kiss to his cheek and tells him to say it when Hob gets back.)

Hob leaves. Dream is still the ruler, and in public he keeps it together, is having everyone prepare for battle, but inside he's a wreck. He's doomed two lovers to death, and for what.

And just when he's convinced himself that this was all worthless, Hob comes back. He is even filthier than the first time Dream saw him and his arm's been broken and set wrong and he's wearing corpse armor again! Why does he keep doing that!

Absolutely none of this stops Dream from flying into his arms immediately and kissing the life out of him.

"I thought you'd died," Dream tells him later, in private.

"I won't," Hob assures him. "I've decided not to."

Dream isn't sure if he finds this comforting.

So like! Tides have turned! Things are great! Dream and Hob are stupidly in love! They are making it everyone else's problem, just a bit!

But then, as they're about to complete the Close the Hellgates spell, Lucifer gets the upper hand. Demons are pouring into their hideout, there's no time to finish the ritual, everyone's going to die.

But, Dream thinks. If he can't properly finish the ritual, he can... overload it. The magic equivalent of closing a door by melting it shut rather than locking it. It'll kill him, for sure. But the Hellgates will close.

He's about to do it.

But then Hob, who knows Dream better than Dream knows himself at this point, says, "Fuck. No. Wait. I didn't want to do this but- I'll buy you time."

His face is grim, in a way it hadn't been any of the times Dream sent him to certain death.

And Dream, even though he'd been about to do the self-sacrifice ploy literally five seconds ago, is immediately like "No. I can't let you do this. I can't let you die for me."

And Hob, sheepish, is like "...remember that time you yelled at me for ten minutes straight about how dangerous it is to interact with the Eldritch Beings that Control the Universe, I should not under any circumstances have spoken with one?"

"Yes?" Dream says, not fond of where this is going.

"I may not have been. Entirely honest with you. About what I did," Hob says. In the flickering light of the single torch that's still lit, a sudden gleam appears in his eyes, too steady to be a trick of the light. "I may have. Made a deal. With Death. I won't die for you, because I can't."

And as much as Dream would love to yell at Hob for that one, there are more immediate problems, so Hob goes to guard the door and Dream goes to complete the ritual properly.

Even though he's doing the ritual properly, Dream has to shatter the ruby to complete it. Instead of killing him, all the power from the ruby flows into him-

and he remembers that he's one of the Eldritch Entities in Charge of the Universe. What he'd thought of as 'digging Too Deep into magic and getting his girlfriend killed' was... essentially that, he'd had a mortal lover, they Dug Too Deep Into Magic together. In the fallout, she got killed and he got turned mortal.

Which was kind of a cluster to begin with- none of his siblings knew what had happened to him, and they still have strict rules governing what they can do and probably wouldn't have been able to interfere if they had. His people weren't sure what would happen to him if he died as a mortal, and were frantically trying to figure out a way to get him back, but everything they could come up with was Extremely Finnicky Rituals. Even aside from the practicalities of enacting an Extremely Finnicky Ritual, none of them could figure out how to trick Dream into doing it. Human!Dream is exactly as stubborn as Regular!Dream, and about 90% more distrustful of Eldritch Magic.

And then Lucifer got summoned by Burgess, saw a chance to take out one of the Cosmic Powers that Be while he was weakened, and jumped on it.

The whole 'ruling family is the only one who can stop Lucifer via an Eldritch Ritual' thing was a con, on Lucienne's part. Dream-on-earth had been lead to believe he was royalty to account for... the fact that he is, on a cosmic scale.

Lucienne, when she realized what Lucifer was doing, came up with a plan to have Dream do the Give-Dream-His-Powers-Back ritual in a way that fit with human!Dream's narrative (not only to save his life but also because Dream was uniquely situated to stop Lucifer from taking over the world- he was attacked first, he's not bound by any 'don't intervene' rules).

Also she sent the former emperor a prophetic dream about Hob because Human!Dream desperately needed a bodyguard. Why Hob? He was the best available option of 'people near the emperor at that point in time.' It worked better than anyone could have expected.

Anyway. Dream is Dream-Dream again, he makes short work of Lucifer and goes to find Hob, who is very dead.

So Dream is standing in the corner, quietly having a yup you did it you killed two lovers in a row crisis, completely unable to move, when his sister shows up and says, "Again???" in a deeply exasperated tone.

He's too distraught to be offended.

And then he realizes she's not talking to him.

Death waves her hand, and suddenly Hob is a person again instead of a bloody wreck on the ground. He sits up with a groan that sounds like he'd just spent the night sleeping on the floor, not literally died.

"Thanks," he says to Death, scrambling to his feet.

"Don't mention it," she replies. "Could you please just wait a week before dying for this guy again?"

"I make no promises," Hob tells her. She gives him a look.

"He's worth it, alright?" Hob says, "I-" and then his eyes, scanning the room for threats, find Dream, and a smile dawns on his face. He turns his back on Death- turns his back! on Death!- to run over to Dream, picking him up and swinging him around before pulling him into a kiss. "Your eyes," he says, wonderingly, cupping Dream's cheek in one hand as he breaks the kiss, "Is that from the spell? Does it hurt? They're beautiful, but-"

"They. Do not hurt," Dream says, and then winces. His voice is back to an eldritch rumble, deep enough that it's both felt and heard, and Hob seems too dazed to be bothered by his eyes but surely this will affect him-

"Good," Hob says, snuggling contentedly against Dream again. "Glad you're safe," he murmurs.

"Hob," Death says, quietly stunned, because this whole time her brother's been missing-maybe-dead and she's been distracting herself by helping this cute lil no-longer-mortal save the mortal king he's in love with. And now here her brother is. Safe. Alive. Being snuggled.

"Oh, right, I need to introduce you!" Hob says, twisting in Dream's arms so he can look at Death. "This is-"

"That's my brother."

(And then there are several tearful reunions, and Dream has to be assured by both Death and Hob several times that Hob is VERY not-mortal now and also VERY willing to make contracts with eldritch entities and that includes marriage contracts, nudge nudge. And then Hob and Dream kiss a lot and live happily every after the end)

[jennajaeger]

My general feelings on my F/Os' canon love interests and how I picture my dynamic with each of them:

Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid):

Eric is MY GUY. BESTIE. HIMBO EXTRAORDINAIRE. We high five each other as we pass each other in the hallway because we both have the best wife in the world. Literally the epitome of this meme:

Me: "The stars are so beautiful tonight."

Eric: "You know who else is beautiful?"

Both of us in unison: *sighing dreamily* "Ariel~"

Keyleth (Critical Role: The Legend of Vox Machina):

So admittedly I have not finished the series yet but as far as I can tell, Vax and Keyleth have a very "right person, wrong time" type of relationship? Like, I get it, they're always gonna love each other, they're just never going to be in a place where they can BE together? And I mean......that works for me :P I feel marginally bad about stealing her man because she's so sweet and deserves a break, precious bean, but if it works it works <3

Meryl Stryfe & Milly Thompson (Trigun Stampede):

I felt so bad the moment I started watching the show because I was like "oh god another female character I'm gonna have to throw under the bus in the name of self shipping" but honestly so far in the 23 version I read their dynamic as platonic?? And just in general, I love her <3 She's a tough little cookie; and I haven't properly met Milly yet but I just know I'm gonna love her :P girl frankly you deserve to have Nick maybe you'll mellow him out a little good heavens XD

Helen Wick (John Wick franchise):

I will always have a moment to pay homage to our lord and savior Helen Wick who died to give us the best action franchise of the modern age, girl you were a real one and rest easy knowing I am going to RIDE THE TRAUMA OUT OF YOUR HUSBAND

Tess Marshall (Barbarian):

SHE DESERVES S O MUCH BETTER OH MY GOD I mean they both do, they're stuck in this terrible movie :P In a better world I would love to be friends with Tess, and act as Keith's filter because good lord boy you're cute but you're dumb as fuck sometimes XD Also if I ever see Keith's ex-gf I'm throwing hands

Alt Cunningham & Rogue (Cyberpunk 2077):

god I'm glad these two are Johnny's exes XD I'm sure I would have liked Alt a lot more had I known her when she was, y'know, alive, but as a......tech ghost or whatever, she's not a lot of fun :P As for Rogue, she's a bitch, I KNOW she's a bitch, and I respect her for it. She DID stab Johnny in the back though and I'm not about to let her forget it.

Alys Rivers & Helaena Targaryen (House of the Dragon):

I haven't properly met Alys yet but I'm looking forward to it, I feel like I'm gonna like her :P And Helaena is A SWEETHEART, an absolute darling, I would love to sit with her and have tea while she does her embroidery and listen to her talk about anything that comes into her pretty little head because THE GODS KNOW SOMEONE HAS TO. I will also be her "dump your shitty husband" friend so fast XD Like, LOOK AT AEMOND. LOOK AT HIM. HE'S RIGHT THERE GIRL I WILL SHARE.

Anyone Dream has ever been romantically involved with and yes I'm including Hob Gadling (The Sandman):

I have nothing but love and respect for Dream's past partners (Calliope babe I'd die for you) and I just love the idea that we have like, dinner together and they all just spill the tea about the shit Dream got up to in past decades :P

Vision (Marvel Cinematic Universe):

I have no problems with Viz, he was a good man. Wanda really could have done BETTER in my opinion, but y'know, she could have done a lot worse too, so :P And thanks to Viz we have the boys, Billy and Tommy <3

Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives):

I don't hate Martin. He's a sweetheart. But I need him to not even BREATHE in Jon's direction, because that is MY MAN. Nothing personal :P

Mikasa Akerman (Attack On Titan):

I will meet that bitch in the FUCKING PIT IT IS ON S I G H T LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!!!!!

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

**

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.    

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.  

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.  

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”  

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.  

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.  

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.  

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.  

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

[generallypo]

night/day

--

sticker proj! am still learning. more important to my brain, however, are the HOB/TOG crossover thoughts courtesy of 4am and bad sleeping habits. there lie hysterical laughing and raving, all under the cut. 

all warnings are dead at this point. yeet haw

------

so hear this: TOG, except khun is now an infamous hobo trash god living his best life after getting the boot from heaven. this is his third time. the first two were official mandates, the third more of a soft plea for mercy after everyone up there gave a collective groan of christ, not this little shit again.

baam? probably been pining in a cave or a volcano or a very wee ramshackle house for, oh, say 800 years. no one’s really sure if he grew out of his emo phase or not yet.

yep that’s it that’s literally all i was thinking about. the rest is just character and story banter and a couple of hot takes. thanks for tuning in.

------

in all honesty, i feel like matching tog charas with hob charas could go both ways -- surface personality-wise, i would say khun would actually fit hua cheng better? both start off as mysterious protector types to the MC and are sly and charming; on the other side, baam and xie lian are sweet and mild-mannered, enduring whatever problems come their way. hmm.

but if -- spoiler alert, i guess? -- we were to look at backstories and further, underlying character traits, khun’s history lines up with xie lian’s almost to a scary extent. born to a royal/extremely prominent family? indirectly leading them to disaster? suicide in the family as a result? being exiled to the very lowest level in society? aye aye, sir.

and by the end of all these events -- xie lian after the first few centuries of fucking with and getting fucked by history, khun after he arrives at the bottom of the tower -- neither are outwardly affected by their past, but it haunts them in subtler, unwanted ways, and it makes them jaded, cautious men. xie lian is obviously nicer when going about things, but i like to remember that khun actually does harbor an altruistic streak in him: helping maria simply because he admired her kindness, vowing to aid baam after his interest in the black march wanes and he realizes baam is a legitmately decent person. he has no attachment to rachel, but for a simple promise to a dead boy he’s willing to carry her several floors up the tower. khun is a softer soul than he shows; it’s the constant danger of the tower that makes him behave with such a contrasting harshness and vigilance. (also, as of s3 khun is apparently an unkillable cockroach... so now he really is twinsies with xie lian. little buggers.)

and conversely, baam isn’t always just sunshine and honey -- his intense, almost obsessive capacity to fixate on -- worship, even -- a person is pretty starkly reminiscent of hua cheng’s focus on xie lian. at least, from an outsider’s perspective. as a reader, we’re privy to the far more benign nuances of his  interactions with the local trash god, but from the pov of an another character, the way he constantly hovers and menaces anything between him and xie lian is... basically season 1 and 2 of tog with baam and rachel? 

cue the blatant similarity between their motives for doing so as well: growing up isolated from the rest of society, finding a reason to live through the first person to accept them and consequently building their entire life around that person.  that extreme of a love, regardless of its purity or good intentions, can be terrifying -- and is why, i think, rachel’s rejection during the hell train arc is completely reasonable, and xie lian’s acceptance of it is a beautiful miracle. tog is the example of a failed and, frankly, very human ‘love’ story, and hob showcases the very best of one, uplifted by a superhuman willingness to wait until both parties are ready to see each other equally. and for that reason, hob truly is the romance of all romances -- 800 years of patience and quiet understanding and mutual comfort? godly.

hence, my chipmunk brain stands up and screams: xie lian!khun and hua cheng!bam! it makes perfect sense! do it! do it! do ittttt! i like to think there’s a bunch of cute similarities with the plot and character development and overall progression and that it totally works and all. it’s totally deep. yeah.

(additionally, all the matching butterfly imagery and coloration stuff: warm red tones for hc/baam, white/blue-ish for xl/khun. yep. for some things, i don’t have to think too hard at all, and i like that.)

anyway, the comparisons could totally go both ways, i agree with that. but here’s my current take on it since this one vibes with me a little more and i think there are deeper thoughts to be extrapolated out on it. also bc literally one reason: if khun were hc it would take him tops a century to scout out baam, convince him to travel far away, and like, i dunno, climb a tower with him or something.

[gabessquishytum]

Hairy Hob is a blessing I never thought I needed. And this is coming from someone who was kind of meh on the whole body hair thing in sex stuff, it's fine if it's in it, but not my thing usually. Imagine my surprise when I end up going feral, not for someone like the Corinthian who honestly should be more my type, I end up going absolutely bonkers for Hob Gadling. Hob Gadling this absolute Honda Civic of a man, I love him.

Scent kink too, but I digress. More to the point, for someone like Hob, I figured he might be a bit insecure about his body hair when he and Dream first get together. Maybe he noticed one time how much arm hair he has compared to Dream, who took off his coat for some reason. So, the day comes when they finally plan to do the do, and Hob spends the entire morning and afternoon shaving his entire body, cause waxing will hurt too much XD. And then it's time, they're making out. Deam starts to touch his body while kissing and is progressively becoming more confused the more he touches Hob. Until Dream loses patience and rips his shirt to shreds to see his bare chest. And the horror on Dream's face XD, you'd think someone died or something, immediately ripping off Hob's pants and underwear, and he's bare everywhere of course. Dream looked him over twice, even going so far as to make Hob present himself, ie bending over and spreading himself.

Hob's face is beet red, his face is like a tomato, doesn't understand what the fuss is, he thought Dream might like him like this. But the mounting rage on the Dreamlord's face says otherwise. Dream is livid, and I wonder how he'll punish Hob for this. huehuehuehuehuehuehueheuhehuehue

-Love Yan Anon <3

yeSSSS love that my Hairy Hob propaganda is spreading <3 it's funny bc Hob IS so my type it's almost ridiculous. I think body hair really is A Thing for me (on whatever gender) and I can't explain it BUT. I can attempt to spread the gospel about it heehee.

LOVE the idea of Hob being insecure though omg!!! He's really overthinking everything and he's noticed that Dream is very,,, smooth. He's got the tiniest bit of upper lip stubble but aside from that, he's pretty hairless! And Hob is like, "I'm connecting the dots. He was all weird in 1589, when I had facial hair. Obviously he hates body hair and stuff." And Matthew is probably there like "you haven't connected shit my dude" but Hob is already convinced.

And he's a lil sad because ugh, he has a lot of hair, it's kinda part of him?? Also it takes a long time to shave??? But he'd do anything for Dream so. He spends a good 3 hours meticulously making sure he's smooth, even his butthole doesn't escape, it's a fucking nightmare but. Worth it. For Dream.

And yeah Dream is pissed off, ok. He's finally got Hob naked after 600 fucking years of lustful yearning (including a solid half an hour staring at his chest hair in 1689) and he just doesn't get it. But he's incapable of having a normal conversation about it so he pulls a very squirmy (and slightly itchy, fucking shaving burn??? Oww!!) Hob over his lap and demands an explanation.

Hob is humiliated and embarrassingly turned on about it, and he explains his thought process and Dream is just like. "Oh wow. I'm in love with an idiot." Which is objectively not an ideal moment for a love declaration but does clear up a lot of Hob’s self esteem issues.

But Dream is still committed to punishing his lover for his grave sins against all that lovely sexy body hair. He spends a good hour or two smacking Hob’s poor arse (with particular focus on his hole, which is already stinging sooo badly) and his cock. All his shaving implements are immediately banished too, and it's for Dream to decide when he gets his face shaving privileges back. In fact, maybe Dream decides that Hob needs a little more supervision overall. And maybe Hob is unreasonably turned on by the fact that Dream is in charge of his outfit for each day, and his meals, and most importantly, his bedtime <3

[sp00kworm]

Hi... Could I request something of Piers and his sister being young punks and getting into trouble?~ ×

A/N: I hope this is okay! I just couldn’t do major trouble and had to write about them being the best siblings ever!

Requests are open! See my FANDOMS page for information!

---

Morpecko has an Odd Ability

 “Piers!” Marnie reached up to clutch at her elder brother’s hand, small fingers wrapping tight around the elder teens as he put his bag down by the door. Her eyes went wide as she looked up, “Your hair has grown.” She reached with sticky fingers to tug at his black and white hair, “And you dyed it! Mum is gonna be soooooo mad!”

The dark type user sighed, irritation turning his lips into a grimace as he pushed his sister’s hands away from his freshly cut hair, “Mum knows you little squirt!” He complained as she gave the hair another tug, “I rang her on Rotom about it days ago!” Piers sighed before reaching into his pocket for the phone. Rotom gave out a loud buzz just as he pulled the device free.

“Who’s that?” Marnie asked with a pout, tugging Piers’ hand down to look at the caller ID, “Ugh.” She complained when she caught sight of the picture, “That Raihan guy is still harassing you?” She snatched the phone before he could stop her and answered, “Piers is busy at HOME, Raihan!” She complained down the receiver, “Can’t you just leave him alone for three days!?” The dragon trainer barely got out a ‘what?’ before she hung up and tossed her brother back his phone.

 Piers sighed and rubbed at the bags under his eyes, “Its not nice to torment people, Marnie, even if it is Raihan.” He teased with a small smile as their mother laughed from the kitchen.

“Is that boy still harassing you to be friends?” She teased as she peered into the hallway, apron splotched with the sweet curry her children enjoyed. Their father was no doubt away on business again in Wyndon.

“Something like that, mam.” Piers slumped his shoulders and rummaged around in his bag for his Pokeballs. The dusk ball shook in his hand as he pulled it out of his bag and the man sighed as Obstagoon erupted from his ball with a roar, spit clinging to the walls as he shook his fur and loomed over Marnie.

The young girl peered upwards, mouth open, before reaching for the fuzzy dark type with a laugh, “Linoone evolved!” She cheered as Obstagoon reached to pick her up with another growl, tongue dripping spit as he licked at her face and hair.

 “He sure did, Sis.” Piers laughed as Marnie plunged her hands into his partners fur and clung on. The dark type Pokemon blundered into the kitchen for dinner, Marnie firmly held in his arms, “Obstagoon, you know you lot have…” He began scolding the Pokemon but paused with Marnie’s tearful look and his mother’s laugh.

“I’m sure your hardworking Pokemon can eat with us. They just tried their hardest in the league for you, the least I can let them do is eat with us.”  She tutted from the stove as she turned the heat off the hob and set about spooning rice into Pokemon dishes and dishes for each of them.

“Thanks, mam.” Piers smiled and sat next to Marnie, petting Obstagoon’s thick fur as his other team members erupted from their balls to grab dishes of sweet curry and rice.

“Now what’s this I hear about you having presents for us all?” Their mother asked as they took their bowls of food.

Piers groaned behind his hand, “I told you not to tell Marnie! It was meant to be a surprise.” He sighed before smiling at his little sister. Marnie pushed her spoon into her bowl but before she could ask for the gift early Piers flicked her arm, “Nope. I’ll take you out tomorrow, then I’ll show you what I got you, okay?” She pouted but turned back to eating her curry.

 It was a bright day outside of the Spikemuth, and Piers found himself missing the sunshine a little bit as they stood outside the giant, warehouse city. Marnie smiled as Pier’s reached into his back pocket.

“So, I got you something a little different, okay?” He smiled as he pulled out a small Pokeball, pressing the middle button to enlarge the device before he held it upwards out of Marnie’s grasping fingers, “But,” He put a finger before her eyes, “You can only have it if you promise me you’ll join the league one day.” He grinned at her enthusiastic nodding.

“I will I promise Piers! Please! I want to know what Pokemon it is!” She whined until Piers gave her the ball. She smiled at the ball before tossing it gently towards the floor.

“MORPECKO!” A purple creature erupted from the ball, red eyes furious as it hissed on the floor, sniffing the air madly as though it was searching for something.

“Oh shit.” Piers cursed before reaching for Obstagoon, “I forgot to feed it oh…” He cursed again as Obstagoon erupted from his ball with a howl, serving to scare the tiny Pokemon.

 Marnie smiled at the Pokemon before scrambling in her own purse, reaching for the Pecha Berry Candy her mother had given her for the trip out. Morpecko’s nose twitched at the smell. Its red eyes fixed on the candy in her grasp before it screeched and jumped. Obstagoon’s claws missed the beast, but Marnie grinned and shoved the candy into Morpecko’s mouth. The Pokemon chewed at mach speed, the candy, wrapper and all, disintegrated. It was then that it faded into a yellow colour, a content burp escaping it as it nestled into Marnie’s arms, happy to settle in for a nap.

“Hey…Morpecko?” Marnie smiled down at the Pokemon, “Do you want to be my partner?” She asked gently.

“MORE!” It cheered before nuzzling in close.

Piers sighed against Obstagoon’s furry shoulder, “Remind me never to listen to Raihan ever again.”

“OB-STA!” His partner cackled.

Morpecko grinned against her cheek before leaping from her arms and running for the berry trees. A squawk sounded before Rookidees appeared around them.

“REMIND ME OBSTAGOON!”

[vands38]

things i wish someone told me about coeliac disease (UK edition)

apparently some doctors are still not telling coeliacs what they actually need to know so here’s some fun facts --

*coeliac disease is likely to go undiagnosed if you don’t have digestive symptoms. for a lot of folks, their first symptoms are odd things like weight loss, bloating, mouth ulcers etc that take ages for doctors to correctly diagnose as coeliac disease. I know someone whose only sign was tingling in her fingers (nerve problems are a Thing sometimes). I don’t wanna freak folks out but check this list of symptoms and if you’re worried, ask your doc for a blood test to check for coeliac disease. I went in and out of my docs for years with various symptoms (mostly from the anaemia) and no one caught it until I was finally having noticeable digestive trouble.

* coeliac disease an autoimmune disease. not an allergy. not an intolerance. when you eat gluten, your gut just screams NOPE and throws everything out of there.

* this means if you keep eating gluten you will have serious long-term health problems because your gut can't absorb shit 

* as I mentioned, anaemia is one of these associated health problems. a lot of people have this at diagnosis b/c your gut hasn’t been absorbing the nutrients it needs. it leaves you very weak and tired, and the longer it goes on, the worse it gets. 

* long-term anaemia / malnutrition causes so many fucking health problems I can't list them all. basically, if your body sucks, there's a good chance it's a side-effect of your coeliac disease going undiagnosed. I got shitty joints and a shitty heart and shitty bones and godknowswhatelse and every time my doc is like "hey, guess what? it’s coeliac disease!"

* you know what a common side effect is? LACTOSE INTOLERANCE. this is because, once again, your gut hates you from all that gluten you've been killing it with, so it starts to muck around and kick out other things too. but good news! most of the time this is reversible!!! lay off any lactose for a couple of months, reintroduce it to your diet slowly, and you -- like me -- might be a-ok 

*some folks with coeliac disease can’t digest oats either as they contain a similar protein. I found that I was kinda squiffy with them at first but as soon as my gut had calmed down I was a-ok with GF oats (this is good b/c 99% of good GF biscuits are made with oat flour, RIP to everyone that can’t eat them)

* so... your bones are probably fucked. if you were diagnosed early and your doctors are on it, you might be okay but for a lot of people it means osteopenia, and further down the line, osteoporosis (meaning it's v easy to break bones). you need to be eating, like, double the regular amount of calcium every day. most people are put on calcium tablets with combined vitamin D (to help absorb the calcium) but even on top of that, you need to be getting a lot in your diet. If you're still lactose intolerant then switch to lacto-free versions of dairy products or eat tofu like there's no tomorrow. It's super important that you get enough.

* relatedly, bone health!!! You should be doing MODERATE impact exercises like jogging to strengthen the bones but nothing high-impact like tennis. load-bearing exercises are good too. here’s some examples (in detail) given to me by the rheumatology dept

* people have different sensitivity levels. in the UK, certified gluten-free products have to be 20 parts per million or less, but in the US this is 100! marmite lives somewhere between these two and can cause some coeliacs to have a reaction. please be aware when you eat international gluten-free foods that they might have more parts per million than your body is used to

* because you're super sensitive to gluten, not only do you need to check the bold allergens on the ingredients, but the small print too. it might say "made in a factory that handles gluten" or "may contain traces of gluten" and that’s a no-go

* similarly, be careful in restaurants. Apparently it's still perfectly legal for restaurants to say a dish is "gluten free" and then put your nice GF bread in the same fucking toaster as regular bread and have you shitting your pants for days. Just because the ingredients are GF doesn't mean they're cooking it in an allergen-conscious manner. If its not a Coeliac UK certified restaurant, always ask about their methods. Is that milkshake made in a GF blender? Is your fry-up cooked in a separate pan? The first time I got glutened after my diagnosis it was because my GF naan bread shared a tray with a regular one. A lot of places won't even fucking think about this stuff.

* if you're in a gluten-eating household, you've got a big expense coming up. you need to buy a GF toaster at the very least and I would recommend also a separate baking tray (because pizzas, garlic breads etc stick to that shit like no tomorrow) and a saucepan (or anything else that regularly contains pasta/noodles/etc). You'll also need a separate bread knife and board. Separate butter. Separate strainer if you're the type to drain your pasta. Line anything suspicious (e.g.your sandwich toaster, a communal baking tray) with baking parchment. Don’t use bare rungs in your oven or hob. And buy separate spreads and condiments, unless your household is very well trained in not dipping their crumb-covered knives into those things. I've even got separate plates, kitchen utensils, and cutlery. It seems extreme but I haven't had a cross-contamination incident since. Just think: has gluten touched this? And if so, do your best to minimise the risk.

* living GF is expensive long-term too. GF bread costs twice as much as regular bread. Restaurants often charge extra for GF alternatives. I had to switch from having toast in the morning to cereal because it's much more reasonably priced. I eat more fruit than I ever have before just because GF snacks cost so much. I used to have breakfast bars lol say goodbye to that shit unless you wanna be broke

* things I didn't realise I couldn't eat: crisps (a lot of your standard crisps are made with ??? production methods), candied nuts (most of these are made in factories that handle gluten), soy sauce, strawberry laces and a whole bunch of fave sweets (contain wheat starch to bind them - check this list for safe sweets), marmite (you can buy a GF yeast extract that is only 50% worse than the original)

*good food you actually can eat: most cadburys but not most nestle, GF beer which tastes exactly the same, schar pretzels are actually the shit, so are their BBQ pringles and those little chocolate bars with hazelnuts, Morrisons free from frozen mini hash browns will cure your depression, M&S do these bacon tortilla rolls which... OH BOY. Quiche alternatives are pretty damn good but I've yet to find a pizza that doesn't make me want to cry.

*speaking of supermarkets... Morrisons stock a good range of stuff and tend to have everything in one aisle, M&S have many yummy (and expensive) treats, Sainsbury's has good own brand things including bread, Tesco's are fairly decent and stock a lot of baking things, ASDA are the king of GF cake, if you're still lacto-free then Waitrose sell LF cheese including halloumi, and check your your local hippy food store because I found the best goddamn bread in mine (Incredible Bakery Company - you are £4.50 a loaf but I have no regrets)

*party risks: if there's a BBQ, insist that your things go first or have a separate BBQ, or, if worse comes to worse, just eat cold snacks. (Beware of sausages! Many aren't GF!) If its a chip and dip situation, either everything has to be GF (easily done) or have your own dip. BUFFETS ARE LITERALLY OUR WORST NIGHTMARE. the amount of coeliacs I know that have been glutened at one are INSANE. even if those tasty treats are labelled 'gluten free' they've probably be contaminated. everything at a goddamn buffet is contaminated. Dinner party? Well meaning friends will want to cook for you but unless their kitchen is set up as above, it's safer to bring your own food -- if you're very lucky, you will have friends who take the time to learn about allergens and will clean every item in their kitchen before cooking and serving an entire GF meal. these friends are to be treasured -- nay, worshipped.

*fast food. there’s no good way to put this but you’re never having that guilty pleasure 2am burger again. mcdonalds fries are miraculously GF though. (a lot of takeaways recycle oil so even if the ingredients are GF it’s often not safe but mcdonalds always use a separate fryer for chips). indian takeaway is great as most dishes don’t contain gluten. on the flip side, you’ll only be able to have about 5 items on the chinese menu (soy sauce is in everything, yo) so be prepared to learn those 5 items by heart. dominoes do Coeliac UK certified GF pizza!!! (buuuuut not during covid). chains like pizza express have got our back and will even serve you GF doughballs

*coeliac UK are your best friend! most of the things I’ve mentioned are described in detail on their website. they also have a barcode scanner app that will tell you if foods are safe, and they have a restaurant guide, and useful things like translation guides for when you go abroad. 

That's all I've got right now but hmu with any questions or corrections. Take care of yourself, folks. <3

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 68

Chapter Summary - Danielle has become somewhat reclusive, spending a lot of time on her study, and not enough with Tom, so he comes up with an idea to get her out of her books and repair some bridges of his own.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle looked at the page in front of her, her vision bleary from hours and hours of staring at her study. Rubbing her eyes, she groaned and looked at her phone, shocked to see that she had been studying for five hours straight. She felt herself fill with dread as she thought of cooking a meal. To say Tom had not come to her to speak or anything meant that he too was probably obsessing over his work, so she rose to her feet and decided that she would see what he felt like eating.

On opening the door, she moaned, the smell of cooking wafting towards her. Smiling she went to the kitchen and bit her lips together, seeing Tom dancing to that Justin Timberlake song he commented somewhat factually that everyone bar her seemed to like, the oven on and a pot on the hob, telling her he was making spaghetti bolognese, as he spun around on the spot as part of his dancing, he jumped slightly at seeing his girlfriend behind him. "Oh."

"Don't let my being here stop you, you had a groove going." She smiled as she walked over to the pot. "Where's the spaghetti?"

"I don't have any."

"Yes, there is, I bought some the other day."

"Well I cannot have any, I need to go on promoting Kong, so my suits have to fit."

"Right, fair enough, that's you out, but I am allowed carbs, so you better be getting some for me." She looked around. "And some cheese."

"Cheese?"

Danielle looked at him in horror, "You cannot have spag-bol without cheese, you absolute heathen, I mean having it without spaghetti is blasphemous, but without cheese…" She shook her head, "Not happening."

Tom chuckled. "You are so passionate about your food."

"I make no apologies, it's who I am."

He leant down and kissed her. "I am well aware, I love that about you."

"Even if I am officially the chunkiest girlfriend you ever had?"

"You are not chunky, Kitkats are chunky, you are a person."

"Sorry, what was the other word, 'wholesome'."

Tom growled. "Nacelle told me you had a little issue when you were shopping."

"It wasn't an issue, it was a bitch of a sales assistant that made a comment about me being chunky," Danielle explained. "She was somewhat appalled that one of my lack of height and rotund of hip diameter would be wearing dresses, that in her opinion, were meant for the likes of your former flame."

Tom merely growled. "I also heard you rounded on her."

"I just told her that her superiors would argue her opinion since my bank card would work as well as a thinner girl's, so either show me the changing rooms or stop wasting my time."

"That's my fiery Irish Lass." Tom grinned proudly before kissing her again. "And for the record, you are not chunky, and I very much love how you look or have you forgotten how I adore to ravish you at any and every opportunity."

"Behave you insatiable man, you might burn my food." She laughed, but the manner in which she held onto Tom and looked at him told him of her internal need for him to state such to her from time to time.

"In all seriousness though Elle, I love you as you are, if you gain or lose weight, so long as you are happy with it, I don't care."

"Yes you do, everyone does, besides, if I lost weight, my breasts would decrease in size somewhat." Tom froze for a moment before letting go of her and rushing around opening different presses. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the spaghetti."

"Why in such a panic, though?"

"I can't allow these divine assets of yours to shrink in any manner, that is a travesty of epic proportion." Danielle merely laughed and threw her eyes up as she went and stirred the pot on the hob.

*

"It was nice having dinner with Nacelle and her fiancé." Tom declared as he finished his food.

Danielle looked at him curiously, wondering why he brought up the pair since it had been almost a week since they had brought her shopping and then went back to theirs for takeaway, with Tom joining them. "I was not aware you knew Becky."

"Rebecca is one of the biggest names in the industry for contracts, anyone who is anyone gets her and her partners to write up their contract, Marvel deal through them over here."

"Yeah, I knew she was a bit of a deal, just didn't realise how big, Nacelle isn't a bragger."

"I noticed, those who are brilliant at what they do rarely are." Tom smiled. "So what was she saying to you about New Years?"

"I got asked, more than once, who did my makeup and I told people, now she has two weddings booked in for September and at a nice price, plus Becky is sorting her the Spring/Summer '18 contract for New York Fashion Week from it." Danielle smiled in delight. "Guess I was a walking business card."

Tom grinned. "You love to see others do well, don't you? Your friends, even Paul."

"Hey, so long as it does not affect you and me, I want Taylor to do well, just so long as it is nowhere near me or at either of our expenses." Danielle shrugged, "You get nowhere in life wishing ill on people. I am happy, so why want others not to be."

"I often forget you are so much younger than you act." Tom grinned as he pulled out the bottle of wine they had been drinking, "More?"

"Jesus no, I have to proofread a project in the morning. The last thing I need is fuzzy brain doing it."

"How is the study? We are in the same house but barely see each other."

Danielle noted the small hint of sadness in his voice. "I know, it is like before Christmas again, I just get so fixated on getting everything done, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I am getting way more work done than I thought I would, but perhaps I should slow down. This," She held up her hand. "Has another four to six weeks, you are gone to the US in what, two weeks?"

"Ten days."

"Shit." Danielle shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"I want you to get everything done, but…"

"You want me here too, not just in physical being, but actually sitting down talking to you?" She hampered a guess.

"Is it wrong to say yes?"

"No." She smiled knowingly. "I need you to do something for me, Tom." He looked at her expectantly. "I need you to tell me when I am overly obsessed with other stuff, I need you to say 'Elle, I want your attention too'."

"I don't want to force you or make you feel as though it's a chore."

"You're not a chore Tom, you are my boyfriend, who I really, really love spending time with, I just forget sometimes."

"I've an idea." It was Danielle's turn to look at him expectantly. "How about we go see my dad, he's been asking if I would come up, and of course, he is asking for you?"

"When would you be thinking?"

"As soon as we can?"

"How would we get there?"

"The fastest way is to fly."

Danielle's nose twitched as she thought, something Tom noticed she did when her mind was racing to figure out a perceived issue. "I have Mac's vaccination card with me, if we find him kennels, I would go."

"Would that be alright? I mean, I am sure we can find someone to mind him."

"We are not dumping him on Ben and Sophie, she would have to be talked down from a bell tower with a sniper rifle." Tom chuckled. "And I doubt Luke would offer."

"I would pay to see Luke's face." Tom laughed. "Nacelle?"

"They have Nero, I doubt he would be too happy." She explained. "It is too late now, but I will Google a few places and ring them in the morning to see if they'll take him."

*

"Are you okay?" Tom asked as they arrived at the airport in a cab to prevent arousing suspicion.

"Yeah, as we said, we go in separately and no one will put us together." She smiled, pulling out her phone. "We better head in, our check-in time is closing in fifteen, it wouldn't bode well to miss our flight since we only booked it a few hours ago."

"That was nice of that woman to Facebook you back last night."

"Business is cut-throat for so many these days, I am just glad we have a place for him, I think he will like it." Danielle smiled, recalling Mac's delight at his temporary accommodation as well as the other dogs.

"It's only for two days, we'll be home soon." Tom smiled, nervous about seeing his father after his father gave him a significant piece of his mind on his "Whoring" the previous summer. Paying the cab driver, he got out of the car and got his suitcase, which housed both of their belongings, neither taking anything significant with them since it was such a short trip, a few moments later, when Tom had entered the building, not attracting too much attention, Danielle got out of the cab, thanked the driver and closed the door. Inhaling, she walked into the airport, somewhat surprised that Tom was over at check-in machine typing in his details and scanning his passport. nonchalantly, she walked to one of the machines that were a bit away from his and did the same, collecting her ticket and walking to the W.H. Smith's nearby to get a packet of hard-boiled sweets. "It's a lot quieter than I thought it would be." She turned slightly at Tom's voice being so close to her.

"Well, you have no one ringing different photographers to get your sexy mug all over a website." She smiled. "Will we head to departures?"

"Okay, sorry it's only a small commercial and not something fancier."

"Because of course, I am used to different, aren't I?" Danielle laughed. "Seriously, I have never been on anything but a three each side Ryanair or Aer Lingus flight, and the furthest I have been to is the Netherlands."

"What, really? Your parents never brought you on holiday?"

"I have been on loads of holidays, I know my country back to front, inside out, dad always said, bar the weather, Ireland could match any country in the world for scenery, history and culture, in fact, it surpasses many on all of them." She stated.

"So why were you in the Netherlands? What brought you there?"

"Amsterdam." Tom looked at her with a suspicious look and a raised brow.

"Not for that side of it, I did Art for my Leaving Certificate, Rembrandt was the artist our school focused on for that year, so we went over as a class." She stated knowingly. "I told you already, I'm too boring for anything else."

"You are not boring Elle, you are sensible."

"Same difference."

"Can I ask something, it is something Luke said to me before, then Ben and Hugh mentioned it too?" Danielle looked at him. "How does someone so sensible end up taking the risks you do, coming to England, taking on being a paramedic, then taking on being a safety officer? They are such risks, sensible people don't take those sorts of risks."

"I also put a lot into this relationship." Tom frowned. "You are not exactly the safest bet Tom. An actor? And here I am allowing myself love you, putting faith in you I have never given to a man before."

Tom leant a bit closer to her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her hand. "I cannot thank you enough for doing that, I promise I will show you it is worth it."

"It better be, you're the first man I ever said 'I love you' to outside of my dad." She smiled walking off, leaving Tom staring at her as she did. She walked through to the scanning area, taking out all her electronics and keys so to go through the machine. To her relief, it did not buzz, so she collected her belongings again and waited for him.

When they were through, they made their way through the cafes and restaurants and shops towards the gate they were required, since a small British flight seldom required much waiting. "Really?"

"Really what?" She asked, not looking at him.

"I am the first?"

"I told you already Tom, there wasn't many before you, and I was young and not really understanding of what was needed in a relationship, looking back, no, I never knew anything about love before you, nor did I mention anything regarding it."

"So, there is just me?"

"Just you." She confirmed, looking at him.

"But I…" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tom, don't." He eyed her warily. "I know you have, you admitted it before, remember. That's fine, I don't care. Well, I care, since it means you have known heartache, but I don't need you to say I am 'the one and only person you have loved' I am not an idiot."

"Does it make me sound easy?"

"Does loving make you sound easy, you're an idiot." She laughed. "No, it doesn't, it makes you sound human. Now, enough, we are still in public, it is quiet, but there is still a few people around."

Since they had booked separately to avoid detection, they were forced to sit away from each other for the short flight. Tom got caught listening to some soccer fan reel abuse at his soccer team for the journey, no matter how high he put up his headphones, while Danielle was sitting next to a man who was, if he was telling the truth, two years younger than her and very interested in her cleavage. Politely, Danielle laughed him off for the majority of the journey, but she felt Tom's less than happy glance more than once.

"He was a bit much," Tom commented as he opened the door of the hire car for Danielle.

"Which one, we both had a bad travel partner." Danielle laughed, having seen Tom's less than pleased face at his own travel companion.

"True, but that guy was staring at you the whole way," Tom growled.

"I see."

"I'm not jealous, you were not leading him on and were trying to get him to leave you alone," Tom commented.

"Of course." Danielle nodded. "I think he said something about being away for a while and I being, and this is me guessing since the Scottish twang can get very strong that I reminded him of his first girlfriend, but with bigger breasts."

"How did you resist the urge to slap him?"

"I had to remember it would give Luke heart failure."

"He would be honoured at your thinking about him." Tom chuckled. "So, you remember my father."

"Stern, working-class Scot, hard to forget."

"After the summer, he…said things, things I did not want to hear, and you can tell from him, he is not one to sugar coat, he was vicious, if not brutally honest."

"So things are tense?"

"Yes, so much so…well, we agreed the best thing to do is for you and I to stay at a B&B."

"Were you planning to tell me this anytime before bedtime tonight Tom?"

"I did not know how to broach it."

"How do you feel? About not staying with him."

"Honestly, relieved. I disappointed him so much, I confirmed everything that he thought acting was, I fucked up incredibly with regards him."

"Well, that is part of why we are here, though I have to say, I don't think for one moment he will censor himself with me here, but at least he is honest like that."

"Thank you, Elle." Tom gently took her injured hand in his and kissed it. "You are always so understanding, so willing to help."

"I'm a glutton for punishment." She grinned as they made their way to the B&B not too far from the town Tom's father lived in.

*

"Dad," Tom smiled meekly as the Hiddleston patriarch opened his front door. James Hiddleston was a good three inches shorter than his son, and his old age meant he was stooped further, but to Danielle, that only made Tom's fear all the funnier more than anything.

"So she really is gone?" James commented. "Thank fuck, though she seems to have taken your dignity with her." He turned and made his way back into his home, heading to the living room where there was a warm fire scorching the small space. "Ms Hughes, it is good to see you again."

"As it is you, Dr Hiddleston." She smiled politely.

"You will not stop that, will you?"

"Can't say that I will." She smirked, causing the older man to chuckle before pointing to Danielle and looking at Tom. "She'll keep you on the straight and narrow, this one."

"I need it." Tom acknowledged. "How are you, dad?"

"Well, it's been raining for longer than I care to count, but overall, no point in complaining. Now, be a good lad and get the tea." Tom nodded, relieved his father seemed somewhat normal, or what was so for the man, and rose to his feet; Danielle followed suit. "No so fast lassie, you are to stay here, I have a few words I want to have with you." Danielle nodded and swallowed as Tom looked between his father and Danielle anxiously. "Now Thomas." Tom turned and left. "He may be thirty-five, but he is still not too old for a clip across the ear."

"No better man for it either."

"You seem to have your head screwed on some bit."

"That is debatable Dr Hiddleston, I thought it a good idea to go out with your son."

James chuckled at that, "Is what Sarah said true, you got rid of her in the end?" Danielle made a head gesture that signified she had some part in it. "Thank you. Sarah will tell you, I nearly had her cowering in a corner for what she allowed him do to my granddaughter, flaunting her in public like that, like some fucking prized dog, and after years of everyone keeping everything about our family private, he flaunted them around like that, Diana should have never allowed it, I never was as angered."

"I can only imagine." Danielle nodded, knowing that the best thing to do was allow him to rant for a few moments, feeling that he only wanted to make himself heard more than anything.

"Is it odd for you being here Lass?" Danielle cocked her head slightly at the question. "You are Diana's ally after all."

Danielle raised her hands. "Whoa, okay, it's been what twenty-five years, there are no ally's, you are two people who were once married, you have three children and a grandchild, if you hold onto something after all this time then beware, because that is cancerous. I am a good friend of Diana's. I love her, she is the mother I have needed since my mam died, but that in no way impacts on any relationship I would like to form with you as Tom's father."

James studied her for a moment, Danielle knowing that whatever opinion the scientist had of her as Emma's friend, being Tom's significant other held a different set of criteria she was required to fill to be deemed good enough. She had shown she was trustworthy, that she would not divulge family secrets when she was Emma's friend, that was in her favour. "Your mother is dead?"

"Both parents are, no siblings, hence coming over here, as well as getting to know Diana and Emma so well."

"Diana always had a heart for those who need it." James acknowledged.

"She saved me, I was so lost when they died, I rushed away from everything, to a small area of England, too scared to stay at home, and there was this lovely woman that just insisted I join her for tea, would not take no for an answer, then insisted I tell her who I was, in full, pushing and pushing, picking at a thread that was barely hanging on, she could see it, she seemed to know I needed to get it out, and when she pulled enough, it all came out, how lost I was, and she sat there, hugging me, telling me I was okay. She means the world to me, so I will not hear an unfair bad word against her, but you are Tom's father, you are the other half of the reason he and Emma, two of the most important people I have ever had in my life, exist, you aided to mould and shape them, so you matter also."

"Many would argue not, Diana raised them, I left."

"You were there for the formative years, they are your children too."

"What is your opinion of me?"

"Honestly?" James nodded. "Strict, straight-backed, brutally honest, feelings be damned, say it as it is, probably not as favoured as Diana because of it, for as strict as she no doubt was, you were the authoritative parent, but you care deeply about your children, nothing you have done has been without thinking about them, when Tom told you about his plans to be an actor, I don't think you did not want to do it out of anything but concern, you wanted him to achieve his potential, you did not think that standing around looking and talking at a camera was the way to do so, but when he showed you the fruits of his work, you seem to have respected that, and last summer," James huffed in disgust, "Your actions were that of a concerned father and grandfather, of a man who cared for his family and their privacy, I cannot respect that enough, you had the balls to say what Diana was too frightened to say."

"I thought you said you would not hear a word against her."

"I said I would not hear an unfair word against her, that is a fault, not wanting to cause an issue, allowing that farce go on."

"My son has done well with you, Lass, the only issue is, does he realise that that streak in you, that strong will you have, will not always go his way, and if there is one thing that Tom is not used to having these days, is people going against him in any way."

"I love Tom, but the day I notice myself change in a manner I do not think benefits me most of all as a person, I am leaving, nor would I expect him to stay for me if he feels the same."

"Good, no one should change for anyone else. Diana and I took longer than we should have to figure out that, a woman of her background and a man of mine had little reason to be married, but I would not take it back, no matter how much I want to clip that boy's ear."

"From what I gather, you and Diana see things better away from one another, I mean, you are not at risk of being best friends in the next twenty minutes, but you both clearly care for your children and grandchild and I dare say would be quite vehemently willing to fight their corners."

"You gathered right there." James nodded. "Speaking of my son, where is he with that tea?"

"Eavesdropping from the door," Danielle stated. Sure enough, a moment later, Tom came into view, causing James to nod in acknowledgement of her accurate assumption.

"Well?" James half demanded gruffly.

"Sorry, I did not wish to interrupt," Tom responded meekly as he placed the tray with everything needed on the table.

"I assume you were listening intently, though."

"Yes, dad."

"I swear to God boy, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you had better not blacken my door, cause thirty-five or fifty-five, I will redden your arse for you."

"I swear."

"And no tagging on this poor lass, she is too good for that, good copped on head on her, though that has to be questioned, considering." he gave his son a look that only caused Danielle to laugh, James giving her a fond glance as he did so.

"Thank you, James."

"What is it with all three of my children and their love of foreign accents? Indian and two Irish." James noted.

"Sure says the Scot that married an English woman." Danielle pointed out, laughing slightly as she did.

"Fair point to you there." James acknowledged, reaching forward and getting some tea for himself.