#raise a glass to LAMS

[c1qfxugcgy0]

adventures in QA

(previous post in this series)

My shop in Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing (AMCW) at Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) is at the very end of the composite fabrication building. Hundreds of people carefully lay up a hundred foot long slab of carbon fiber, cure it, paint it, and then we totally fuck it up with out of spec holes, scrapes, primer damage, etc. The people who write up our many defects are from the Quality Assurance (QA) department.

Every single screw and rivet on a LAM aircraft can be traced back to the mechanic who installed it. Back when even everything was done in pen and pencil, it was joked that the paper used to produce an aircraft outweighed the plane itself. Now that everything is computer-based, of course, the amount of paperwork is free to grow without limit.

(Haunting the factory is endless media coverage of an emergency exit door plug popping out of an Advanced Smallbody - Upengine (ASU) plane during a routine flight a few months ago. Unlike that airframe's notorious problems with MCAS, this was a straightforward paperwork screwup by a line worker: the bolts were supposed to be tightened, and they weren't.

As a result the higher ups have visited hideous tribulations on non-salaried workers. Endless webinars, structured trainings. Here at the Widebody plant we have received a steady flow of refugees from the Narrowbody factory, hair-raising tales of receiving one hundred percent supervision from the moment they clock in to the second they clock out from FAA inspectors who can recommend actual jail time for any lapse in judgement.)

A single hydraulic bracket Installation Plan (IP) is around four brackets. The team leads generally assign two bracket IPs per mechanic, since each bracket set is something like a foot apart, and while working on the plane is bad enough it's much worse to have another mechanic in your lap.

Let me list the order of operations:

One: Find where you're supposed to install these brackets. This is harder than you might think.

Firstly, it's a hundred foot long plank of carbon fiber composite, with longitudinal stringers bonded to it to add stiffness. The stringers are pilot drilled in the trim and drill center, a truly Brobdingnagian CNC mill that trims off the composite flash at the edges and locates and drills part holes for us. But there's a lot of holes, so you must carefully find your set.

A minor difficulty is that the engineering drawings are laid out with the leading edge pointing up, while the wing panels in our cells hang from the trailing edge. Not so bad, you just rotate the paper 180 when orienteering, then rotate it back up to read the printed labels.

A major difficulty is that the drawings are from the perspective from the outside of the panel. But we work on the inside of the wing (obviously, that's where all the parts are installed) so we also flip the drawings and squint through the back of the paper, to make things line up.

Large Aircraft Manufacturer has a market cap of US$110 billion, and we're walking around the wing jig with sheets of paper rotated 180 and flipped turnways trying to find where to put brackets.

Oh well, we're paid by the hour.

Two: Match drill the aluminum brackets to the carbon fiber composite stringer. I can devote an entire post to the subtleties of drilling carbon fiber, but I can already tell that this post is going to be a miserable slog, so I will merrily skip over this step.

Three: Vacuum up all the carbon dust and aluminum swarf created during this process. This step is not optional, as your team lead will remind you, his screaming mouth clouding your safety glasses with spittle at a distance of four inches. LAM is very serious about FOD. Every jet airliner you've ever ridden in is a wet wing design-- each interstitial space is filled with Jet A. There is no fuel bladder or liner-- the fuel washes right over plane structure and wing hardware. Any dirt we leave behind will merrily float into the fuel and be sucked right into the engines, where it can cause millions in damage. No place for metal shavings!

If you are nervous about flying, avoid considering that all the hydraulic lines and engine control cables dip into a lake of a kerosene on their way from the flight deck to the important machines they command. Especially do not consider that we're paid about as much per hour as a McDonalds fry cook to install flight-critical aviation components.

Four: Neatly lay out your brackets on your cart, fight for a position at a Shared Production Workstation (SPW) (of which we have a total of four (4) for a crew of thirty (30) mechanics) and mark your IP for QA inspection as Ready To Apply Seal.

Four: Twiddle your thumbs. Similarly, we have three QA people for thirty mechanics. This is not enough QA people, as I will make enormously clear in the following steps.

Five: Continue waiting. Remember, you must not do anything until a QA person shows up and checks the box. Skipping a QA step is a “process failure” and a disciplinary offense. From the outside, you can observe the numerous QA whistleblowers and say “golly, why would a mechanic ever cut a corner and ignore QA?” Well...

Six: QA shows up. Theoretically, they could choose to pick up the mahrmax you prepared for them and gauge every single hole you've drilled. But since we're three hours into the shift and they're already twenty jobs behind, they just flick their flashlight across the panel and say “looks good" and then sprint away. Can't imagine why our planes keep falling out of the sky.

Seven: Apply the seal to the bracket. P/S 890 is a thick dark gray goop that adheres well to aluminum, carbon fiber, fabric, hair and skin. Once cured, it is completely immune to any chemical attack short of piranha solution, so if you get any on yourself you had better notice quick, otherwise it'll be with you as long as the layer of epidermis it's bonded to. LAM employees who work with fuel tank sealant very quickly get out of the habit of running their hands through their hair.

Eight: Now you wait again. Ha ha, you dumb asshole, you thought you were done with QA? No no, now you put up the job for QA inspection of how well you put the seal on the bracket. Twiddle your thumbs, but now with some urgency. The minute you took the bottle of seal out of the freezer, you started the clock on its "squeeze-out life." For this type of seal, on this job, it's 120 minutes. If QA doesn't get to you before that time expires, you remove your ticket, wipe off the seal, take another bottle out the freezer, and apply a fresh layer.

Nine: Optimistically, QA shows up in time and signs off on the seal. Well, you're 100 minutes into your 120 minute timer. Quickly, you slap the brackets onto the stringer, air hammer the sleeve bolts into position, thread nuts onto the bolts, then torque them down. Shove through the crowd and mark your IP "ready to inspect squeeze out"

Ten: Let out a long breath and relax. All the time sensitive parts are over. The criteria here is "visible and continuous" squeeze out all along the perimeter of the bracket and the fasteners. It is hard to screw this up, just glop on a wild excess of seal before installing it. If you do fail squeezeout, though, the only remedy is to take everything off, throw away the single-use distorted thread locknuts, clean everything up and try again tomorrow.

Eleven: QA approved squeeze out? Break's over, now we're in a hurry again. By now there's probably only an hour or two left in the shift, and your job now is to clean off all that squeeze out. Here's where you curse your past self for glopping on too much seal. You want to get it off ASAP because if you leave it alone or if it's too late in the shift and your manager does feel like approving overtime it'll cure to a rock hard condition overnight and you'll go through hell chipping it off the next day. You'll go through a hundred or so qtips soaked in MPK cleaning up the bracket and every surface of the panel within three feet.

Twelve: Put it up for final inspection. Put away all your tools. (The large communal toolboxes are lined with kaizen foam precisely cut out to hold each individual tool, which makes it obvious if any tool is missing. When you take a tool out, you stick a tool chit with your name and LAMID printed on it in its place. Lose a tool? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye, pal, because the default assumption is that a lost screwdriver is lurking in a hollow "hat" stringer, waiting to float out and damage some critical component years after the airplane is delivered.)

One tool you'll leave on your cart, however, is the pin protrusion gage. There is a minimum amount of thread that must poke outside of the permanent straight shank fastener's (Hi-Lok) nut, to indicate that the nut is fully engaged. That makes sense. But there's also a maximum protrusion. Why?

Well, it's an airplane. Ounces make pounds. An extra quarter inch of stickout across a thousand fasteners across a 30 year service life means tons of additional fuel burnt. So you can't use a fastener that's too long, because it adds weight.

On aluminum parts, it's hard to mess up. But any given composite part is laid up from many layers of carbon fiber tape. The engineers seemed to have assumed that dimensional variation would be normally distributed. But, unfortunately, we buy miles of carbon fiber at a time, and the size only very gradually changes between lots. When entire batches are several microns oversize, and you're laying up parts from fifty plies and an inch thick, you can have considerable variation of thickness on any given structural component. So you had better hope you had test fit all of your fasteners ahead of time, or else you'll be real sorry!

And, if you're really lucky, QA will show up five minutes before end of shift, pronounce everything within tolerance, then fuck off.

And that's how it takes eight hours to install eight brackets.

[fionajames]

why (pt.I) // lams

A/N: Hey guys, promise I'll get back to writing Star Wars soon!!!!!! For now, a sad lams one shot! (Pt.II should be out tonight, i think). Enjoy and send requests!!!!!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Hamilton had never wept the way he wept the night he heard of Lauren’s demise. He remembered the night his mother had tired, the endless, hollow hours he’d spent covered in his own tears and sickness, laying next to a cold body. He remembered when he’d seen the dead body of his cousin, shot and stabbed and bloody, the blood that coated his fingers as he screamed for his brother. He remembered the day he’d fully left his brother behind, sorrow seeping through his veins like endless song composed for his soul.

But never, had he begged for death so desperately, as the night continued on.

By the time the rising sun had let light into his room, Hamilton had cried every last drop he had in his body, and drunk more than he could remember yet he seemed painfully sober. He was on the floor of his study - not wishing to disturb poor Eliza’s sleep - with a bottle of some rich alcohol in one hand and a broken quill in the other.

He’d never purposefully broken a quill - it felt like an insult to himself, a taunting reminder that once a quill meant a whole lot more in his financial status - but he’d broken a dozen or so that night. 

A year later, and Hamilton was in the same position. 

Broken, bloodied and beat, curled up in his study as the clock neared midnight.

The blood was leaking from a huge cut on his palm, caused by the shards of bottle glass covering the floor.

A year without Laurens.

It had been a year since his Laurens had left.

It was a wonder he’d made it through a year.

Once again, Hamilton was praying for death to take him, praying like a foolish man. Perhaps that was what he was. Perhaps it was God punishing him and his beloved for sodomy by ridding him of his other half. 

“Oh, how could you leave me?” Hamilton choked out as he wrapped his arms around himself and brought his knees to his chest, sobbing relentlessly. 

It was a sudden gust of bone-chillingly cold air that pulled him from his sorrow, violet-blue eyes raising to stare at his surroundings. There was nowhere for wind to be coming from, and so the man stiffened.

That's when he noticed a paper fall from around the corner, clearly tossed into the air. “Hello?” Hamilton called, tears streaming down his face still. “Is someone there?”

He shuffled to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself and stepping forwards. He grabbed a huge shard of the shattered glass from the floor, holding it forward as a weapon. As he stalked forward, he moved to the side, until he could see around the corner.

A gasp fell from his lips as he jerked backwards at the sight in front of him.

There was a man his age, with blonde locks like hay and eyes the colour of the sky. He was wearing the blue coat and clothes customary to a soldier in the Revolution.

He’d recognise that uniform anywhere. 

One of the most startling things about the man was the wound on his chest, seeping thick red liquid that dripped all over his clothes and body, seeping and staining the white shirt. The flesh was red around the wound, and a dark hole stared back at Hamilton from beneath the tattered fabric. Blood was spilling from it, trickling down the man’s body.

A bullet wound, something Hamilton was all too familiar with. 

But the most startling thing about the man was who he was.

Hamilton knew that face. He could recognise it anyway, even in a sea of people. Crowds couldn’t separate him from this man, but it appeared death could. “Jack,” he breathed out, taking in the appearance of the man. John’s body shimmered with a faint violet glow, tiny star-like lights swirling around him. His lover’s face was set with a grim expression.

“Why?” The blonde whispered, his voice cracking with desperation.

A surge of horror, pain and confusion flooded through the ginger’s body, his breathing turning shakier than a boat at sea, his stomach churning with unsettlement.

Then, he heard the six words that ruined him.

The six words, sharper than a blade being plunged into his heart.

Six words stole the breath from Hamilton’s lungs and pulled his heart apart, ripping piece from piece and pouring alcohol all over his wound. It stung and it ached, it hurt worse than being shot. 

“Why did you let me die?”

A/N: hope you enjoyed, send requests!!!!

[jackhues]

the fanboy - mama's backstory

note: mama's nickname before she was mama is peach! most of these chapters are rlly short, you guys can request some stuff from this era as well. this chapter takes place in 2019, before jack's draft

peanut's world! au masterlist || peanut's world au! request rules

gif not mine!

“you’re dating who now?” jack asked, eyes wide.

peach rolled her eyes, grabbing a pack of noodles from the cupboard, checking the expiry date (you could never be too careful with jack) before getting a pot out.

“auston,” peach answered. “auston matthews. you know, one of your favourite players in the whole wide world?”

“you’re dating him?” jack repeated.

“what have i been saying for the past five minutes,” peach shook her head to herself. “it’s pretty new, but like, he’s cute. he’s a really nice guy, jack.”

“that’s what you said about damian,” jack muttered, referring to peach’s high school fling.

“oh, don’t bring him up right now,” peach flicked jack. “i’m trying to be a good older sibling and tell you about my boyfriend from before. but noo. you just have to bitch about it.”

“i’m not sorry,” jack raised his hands in defense. “i only want what’s best for you. i don’t want you to settle for anyone who’s less than the best.”

“you were literally saying aus is the best goal scorer for the leafs and possibly the whole league like last week,” peach deadpanned.

“goal scorer!” jack emphasized. “not boyfriend for my sister! and that’s besides the point.”

“kinda is the point.”

“stop crying,” peach rolled her eyes. “i’ll try and get you some leafs playoff tickets.”

“i can get them myself.”

“you haven't been drafted yet," peach reminded him. "and i can get you glass seats for free.”

jack huffed, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t!”

-

tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj

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[stanleyisworking]

MOE Pt. 7: Care Sessions, Talks with the Principal, Career Decisions

Image credit: The Manthan School, Greater Noida West

I joined a care session during one specific morning assembly period.

"Which student do you want to talk to?" my mentor asked.

"That one." I pointed at the kid with glasses, sitting the furthest away from his class' row. We were at the hall, getting ready for flag-raising ceremony and I saw that he was the only one reading a book out of all classmates. Hardworking! But also due to the fact I had encountered him a few times during my stint here and he was one of those that I could actually remember the name of, haha.

We sat down at the school cafeteria. My mentor, me, and this student named M. (Full name retracted for privacy reasons)

"Good morning!" I addressed him with a smile.

"Everything is fine." M said.

I was taken aback because I had not asked him how he was doing yet.

My mentor smiled and took over, "You've met Mr Stanley, right? He has been here for a while. We wanted to find out how you're doing so far."

"Everything is fine." The same response, he was smiling throughout though, it was not defensive.

"I'm glad everything is fine! Could you tell me more about it? What's going well so far?" I decided to probe further. My mentor was beside me and briefed me before the session, she was alright for me to take the lead.

He told me his results are good, he studies hard but makes sure to set aside time to relax as well. He is disciplined in his sleep schedule and values rest.

I was amazed, to be honest. I did not figure out these things when I was his age. I quickly realized the education system has come a long way from when I was in school ten years ago. Mental health has definitely become a priority, because he was talking about concepts like mindfulness, stress management, and things I've only gotten to learn later in life.

My mentor chimed in with an unexpected question, "Are you involved in any relationships?"

He laughed and did not answer the question.

Of course, relationships! These were teenagers and this is that period in their life where it would be important to openly discuss it, in case it was unhealthy or affecting their education. I let my mentor take the lead in this topic and listened attentively.

Overall, the care session went well. This student was genuinely happy about his progress in school and shared with me his goals for the future. I wished him (and his relationship) the best, too!

The next part of this post will be about my meeting with Mr. Lam, the principal of Admiralty Secondary School.

It was almost the end of my internship period at this point and the purpose of this internship was so I could consider a career in teaching with MOE. Oh, by the way, the names above? Germaine and Xing Yee were my intern buddies! They were from NUS/NTU respectively and I won't forget the bond we've formed (hint: all the mini-meltdown sessions we shared during our initial adjustment periods)

Mr. Lam had a few questions for me, whether this was something I could consider myself doing long-term and whether I enjoyed the experience so far.

I told him this school had one of the most passionate teachers ever. All the teachers treated me as if I was one of their long-time colleagues. The senior teachers were like mothers and made sure I was not too burnt out and gave me tips on what they wished they had figured out when they were starting this career at my age.

I told him honestly that at this point, I wanted to explore music further. My concern was that music is not seen as a core module in a lot of governmental schools and there was only so much I could do when my subject is not deemed as necessary.

Mr. Lam agreed with this and told me something I still remember today. "You have to ask yourself how much you are willing to let go of music."

The duties of an MOE teacher lies beyond teaching. A lot of it is about teaching values and building a child's confidence and character in society. Being someone who values mental health and a highly sensitive empath, I know I would be a good teacher, but I also knew I would be the type to burn out easily because I would care about my students a lot more than myself. Gradually, I would not have the mental capacity to pursue my art either and that would make me sad.

I declined the invitation to apply for the MOE scholarship and thanked him a ton for cultivating such a positive school environment. I wished I had such a loving principal and teachers when I was in school!

[raiseaglasstofreedomcosplay]

Raise a glass to Freedom!🍻

[nevernotamusicaltrash]

john and philip

in "that would be enough", eliza managed to convince alexander to not think about work for a while because of philip. alexander just came back during the battle of yorktown, and after they achieved freedom, in "dear theodosia", his thoughts were just filled by his son. but after he knew laurens died (laurens interlude), he became workaholic once again and even had an affair. the one incident which made him forget about work again and live peacefully with eliza is philip's death (stay alive reprise and it's quiet uptown) he dropped everything about politics to mourn his son. he buried himself in work when laurens died. john laurens and philip hamilton were the ones who caused drastic changes in alexander hamilton's choices

[the-little-sparrow]

Happy Valentines Day from John Laurens in the place to be! A special Hamilton VDay card dump, comin’ up for the ❤️ Ships ❤️

[gavelsins]

tag dump iv

[imthemonaluisa]

Confess

Summary:  You weren’t exactly sociable. You had moved to New York 3 years ago, yet you had little to none friends, including your best friend Marquis de Lafayette. Christmas is coming, and he’s throwing a party a week before, like usual. Little does he know about your secret…little does he know that hooking you up with Alexander Hamilton would never work…for a million reasons.

Word count: 3.287 (they keep getting longer jesus christ)

Warnings: Cussing, homophobia, crying, just a lot of angst. 

Pairins: Lams; Laurens x Alexander; John Laurens x Thomas Jefferson. 

A/N: Some very big plot twists in this one. I’m super proud of it to be honest. In this one you get to know what happend with Laurens...and what has been happening with Thomas for a long time. 

Part one

Part two

Enjoy!

If I can prove that I never tried to hurt you, would you promise not to tell another soul what you saw?

John’s side of the story.

 The muffled laughter and shouting voices from inside the house were beginning to disappear, as John was running through December’s cruel freezing wind, his tears strolling down his cheeks, unstoppable, and his breathing speeding up, heart about to pump out from his chest and leave him. He was angry, he was sad, he was truly feeling broken. And he was determined to run away from the scene as soon as possible, wishing for it all to be a stupid nightmare, one of those where he would wake up later to the calming sound of Alexander’s snoring against his neck, as he cuddled him, not one bit aware of John’s movements. But now everything was over, there was no hugging, no kissing, no calm, no trust. Hell, he didn’t even know if there was any love left. Maybe Alexander always lied. Maybe he was straight, and Laurens was just an easy target for some experiment.

When he reached his apartment door, he couldn’t breathe. He looked for his keys, his whole body shaking, as he tried to slow down for a second. He was tense, overwhelmed and even dizzy, but not for the alcohol, just because of his messy feelings and thoughts that were physically hurting him. He didn’t live too far away from Lafayette’s house, so he didn’t take so long, but he still ran like five blocks in that freezing weather, with nothing but his t shirt on. He was not about to take time to look for his coat after seeing what he saw.

Before he could finally enter his home and break down properly, some figure running in the middle of the dark New York street caught his attention. A tall man was blaring his name. When he was close enough, John was so surprised he re-considered the it all being a dream option. But when the curly haired man put a hand on his shoulder to shake him a little, he realized that it wasn’t just a horrible dream creating in his head, but his ugly motherfucking reality.

“John, snap out of it” Jefferson laughed, and removed his hand away. He was catching his breath, or trying. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. He looked rather worried as well, as if John crying made him feel anything else but amused.

“Wh-who-what the fuck, Thomas, why are you even here?? You followed me??” John found his keys on his pocket and opened the door. No use in arguing with goddamn Jefferson in the middle of the street. He was shaken and freezing to death. If Thomas had to come in, then he was going to let him be. No time to be against anything, no will, no power left in his body to do anything else than cry.

“Yeah, I figured you needed some support” He came in and closed the door behind him. What he saw was everything he expected, but nothing he was ready for.

John threw the keys on the floor, threw himself on the couch, and began to sob violently. And with that, I mean his eyes were shut, his chest was coming up and down in short motions, his tears were unstoppable and the only sounds coming from his mouth were the ones he did when he- unsuccessfully- tried to breathe. His whole life, his happiness, the reason he came out of bed every morning, the reason he always tried to be better and better, the love of his goddamn life, everything he ever did just to be trashed, to be ran over, to be forgotten. Maybe Alexander wasn’t in love with him, maybe he was holding on to a dream, but he surely was. He was deeply touched by that man, with his ponytail, his fits of passion, his stubbornness, his shouting, his complaints. With his infinite caring, his sweet words, his charming attitudes, his late-night caresses. Everything Alexander was as a person was enough for John, and he almost convinced himself he was enough for Hamilton too, but it seems that life always brings you down to the deepest holes right when you are at your highest, just to make the fall even more painful. He was never more in love, and he was never more heart-broken.

He completely forgot about Jefferson even being in the same room, until he felt him sat down next to him, and slowly but confidently start rubbing his back, trying to somehow comfort him.

“Please leave me. I don’t know why you came and I don’t wish to. I want to be alone” Laurens whispered, not strong enough to speak any louder.

“No, you don’t. You wouldn’t want to be in your own right now” He kept rubbing his back very softly.

“Why are you here?” John glanced up at him, with a very mad and confused expression. His eyes were red and he looked exhausted. New tears kept appearing on his hazel little windows. Through them, you could see all his pain and fears take place, comfortably gaining weight and power inside him.

“Because I know you deserve better” Thomas was half smiling at him, and he didn’t look like the guy John knew. He didn’t look like a douchebag, like someone who just went around hurting people because he had the chance to. He looked like he truly cared. And maybe it was that way, maybe he was different around the smaller guy. Maybe the Thomas everyone knew was nothing but a disguise, a character he created on his mind, to hide under it, to protect himself, to fit in.

“How would you know that? And anyway, since when do you even care about anyone else than yourself? As far as I know, you’re another asshole like the rest of your friends. Homophobic bastards who just have fun hurting people” He remembered Alexander again, and his voice broke in the last sentence. He brought his legs to his chest and hugged them, burring his face on his knees.

“I’m not like them” He sounded a bit hurt “I know I seem like them…I’m just…under pressure. And hey, I know I fuck up all the time but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you-“

He stopped himself before he could fuck up anything else.

Care about you?

What did he mean?

John slowly looked up and stared. Thomas’ big brown eyes were staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact. His hand went from John’s back to his pocket, and he swallowed. Laurens just kept staring in disbelief.

“Care about me? What do you mean? You barely know me” His crying became silent. Only single tears running down his cheeks, the little ones left.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you exist” Thomas was still not locking eyes with John.

“But what do you mean? Care? Like, the only thing I can think of is that you lied to everyone and you’re not straight or something” He sighed, not able to laugh, but a bit amused at that thought.

Thomas wasn’t laughing.

He was extremely quiet, to be honest. Like if someone cut his tongue. Like if his biggest secret was revealed and he was too afraid to respond.

Hold on.

Oh.

Oh god, no.

“Oh my god, Thomas, you’re-“

“Yes” Now everything made sense “Yes I am, I’m gay, I am” Tables turned, Jefferson was crying now, and he was not good at controlling himself at all. That was a sentence he never thought he would say ever, and he just did, in front of one of his goddamn classmates. Now everyone in collage would know.

John could do nothing but hug him. Thomas Jefferson was gay and into him? How was he supposed to react? The guy has a girlfriend, and he always acted like the straightest fuck boy you could meet. Now suddenly, he’s a nice person who has been pretending his whole life?

John felt miserable for him, if he could even feel more miserable. He knew how hard it was to open yourself up like that, to share that part of your life. By the time John came out, he already had been through the process of accepting himself and he had friends to support him. Now, Jefferson? He was all on his own.

“I never meant to be so mean to yo-you, I’m so so-sorry for everything i-I ever called you, I-“ He was stopped by more sobbing.

“No no no hey it’s fine, hey, it’s okay, please, relax, it’s fine” Now John was trying to comfort Thomas, caressing his shoulders softly. He didn’t know why he was doing so…probably because he knew exactly how he felt. Coming out, and feeling like you were alone and unwanted by everyone. Been there, done that.

“N-now everyone will ha-hate me” Jefferson crying, not being able to steady his voice…that was something he would’ve laughed at if he didn’t know why he was in that state.

“They won’t, cause I won’t tell, and you only will when you’re ready to” Laurens gave him an encouraging smile, to make him feel like for once, he had a someone beside him that understood his pain. Maybe not a friend, but someone.

He had no idea how he was helping Thomas while his own heart was crashing inside him, and Jefferson surely realized the huge amount of effort he was doing.

“I shouldn’t even be bothering you, after what happened, what an asshole, I better leave now” He spoke so fast, Laurens just caught the general idea. He stood up, whipping his tears away, heading to the door.

“No, Thomas” John stopped him, taking his hand “…. maybe we can spend some time together?” The freckles boy blushed but didn’t let go “I need some company and I think you do as well”

“……Sure” He sat down again, and smiled softly. He breathed and as John still had his hand on his, he giggled and intertwined fingers. He liked his touch, and his advances didn’t get any complaint. John just looked up and smiled as well. And then, he laughed.

“Jesus, what’s even happening” He sighed, but didn’t pull his hand away, instead, he sat closer to Thomas. They both looked like a mess, but they didn’t mind. They were longing for attention, for affection coming from the other. But for complete different reasons.

Thomas took his chance, and brushed a curl from John’s face, very sweetly.

“I have no idea, but I’m not against it” He shrugged and cupped his cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb, and looking at him lovingly. Slowly, John saw him lean forward, just the tiniest bit. And he panicked. What was going on? He was about to kiss Thomas Jefferson, and why? How? So much happened in one night, he went through an emotional rollercoaster and now he’s wobbly after the ride, not being able to react or reason his actions.

Everything that happened after was a blur. There was kissing, passionate kissing and very sloppy slow kissing. There was hair grabbing and pulling. There was straddling, caressing, rubbing. There was a shirtless Thomas, there was neck kissing, neck biting, neck licking. And then there were tears, shaking, and infinite self-disgust. Everything happened in a flash for John, and he could only come back to his senses when he managed to pull away from the kiss and get off Jefferson, back to his previous position on the couch next to him, instead of on top.

“No…no what am I doing….” He couldn’t stop shaking “I’m cheating…Alexander will hate me…no…I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But he cheated on you!” Thomas was panting, all the pleasure he was feeling gone from his body.

“No! I don’t care I still can’t…I…. oh, god, I’m a monster” Guilt took over him as he curled up in a ball. He wanted to undo everything that happened that night. It was too late.

“So, you regret it all?” Thomas sounded so hurt, it was painful to hear. He revealed something he swore to himself never tell to a guy he pretty much liked a lot, to be rejected in that way?

“I shouldn’t even had kissed you at all!”

John knew he shouldn’t have. Thomas’ self-esteem was basically buried already, and that wasn’t going to help much. But he couldn’t stop his guilt talking for him. He loved the kiss, but he knew it was going to make everything worse.

Thomas was going to shout something at him when three knocks on the door stopped him. He looked at John, deeply offended and emotionally wounded, and he went to look for a mirror. It was obviously Alexander, and he knew this was his chance to revenge himself.

It was going to be hard to let go from his old self.

John couldn’t speak. He knew what was waiting behind the door.

He wasn’t ready.

After fixing himself up, Thomas glared at John one last time before opening the door as he put his best cocky smile on. God knew he had plenty of those ready for when he needed to pretend.

“Hey, fag” He started smirking a lot, knowing he had to sell it.

Alexander said nothing.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were too busy fucking your lady friend”

“You…you…. you….what….you aren’t…what…you don’t…”

“What, Alex?” He was giggling at his mumbling “You know, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover…”

“Where’s John”

“Where. Is. John”

“WHERE THE FUCK IS JOHN”

Thomas was going to answer with some witty comment, but he was cut by John’s choked voice.

“I’m here” John’s view was devastating. He looked truly depressed and Thomas was trying not to let that win him. He was proud, and he was too hurt to think straight. He felt betrayed, and he wasn’t gonna let anyone go over him. Not even the guy he was almost in love with. Again, he had to work a lot on his personality. He barely knew who he was, to start with.

“JOHN, John baby John, John my John” Surprisingly, Laurens pushed him away “John…John you know I’d never do that to you it’s just that Thomas was harassing me and I didn’t know what to do, I was so afraid about how people perceive me, I was scared to death baby I’m-“

“Please leave” John cut him off, muttering that single sentence, that brought Alexander’s whole world down

“Honey, no, why”- “Leave. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Now leave”

Alexander realized John had a love bite, and John tried to cover it but it was no use. Thomas felt the sweet taste of victory.

“I think you heard him” He said. And as soon as Alexander was out the door, he spoke loudly so he could hear.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m here for you know”

He closed the door, and John walked to him, still shaking. Thomas just stared. His mask was gone. All there was left was anger in his expression, and deep sadness in his eyes. He had so many pieces to pick up and fix. And so did John. They couldn’t fix themselves and they couldn’t fix each other either. Laurens knew he didn’t do all of that out of hate. He did that because he could barely control his own feelings.

“Go home” John ordered. He didn’t have time to resolve Jefferson’s life puzzle. He had his own.

“You know, I came here only for you” God knows Thomas would regret everything that happened that night the morning after.

“And I never asked you to come” John’s voice was sharp, but low and shaky. “You are as broken as me. Neither of us is stable enough to be around each other. I’m sorry if you have feelings that I can’t have for you. But I’m in love with that son of a bitch that just left and even though I hate him now, that’s not gonna change anytime soon. So please, I beg you, grab your stuff, and go home”.

Thomas opened his mouth, but he shook his head and went to grab his t shirt. He had also forgotten his coat, and he didn’t realize his stupid mistake until he opened the door. It was almost subzero degrees, and he had to walk god knows how many blocks to reach home.

He was about to say something before leaving, but he regretted it immediately. He closed the door behind him, and left John alone, who quickly became a crying mess. Everything was fucked up now. What was he even gonna say?

What could he say?

He couldn’t apologize.

Right?

If he texted him, would he reply?

Or even worse

Was Alex alone? Was that girl still around?

He decided that thinking about it so much made no sense. He needed to act immediately. If he had to cry, he was going to. If he had to take Alex’s hand across his face, he was going to let it be. If he had to stay silent and just listen to Hamilton screaming through the phone, he was surely going to shut up and let him. He would do anything for that man, absolutely anything. Even death.

So, he called. It was 2 am in the morning. Not exactly the best time, but who gave a damn.

No one answered, until he was about to hang up, and Alexander picked up the phone.

“John oh my god” He was whispering, and Laurens could hear muffled footsteps. Alexander was trying to find a place to talk where he wouldn’t wake anyone up. “John baby john I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened in that party I don’t know why I did it I- “

“No baby I am sorry, Thomas just came to me and he said he was gay and then kissed me and I don’t know I just miss you so much and- “He stopped when he realized they were both ranting on each other’s ear and both almost about to cry. He giggled a little when Alex did, both amused at how similar they always acted.

“We should probably talk all this through face to face” Hammy said. John heard a soft sob.

“Yes, please” John wiped some tears away “Where are you?” He was ready to walk again if he had to.

“I’m at Y/N place” John opened his eyes widely “WAIT, before you panic, she invited us all to sleep on her house. Herc, Laf and me. Just so I could feel better. She’s a friend,truly”

“Okay…okay, I believe you” He knew they had to work on trust, among other stuff. “Text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as possible”

“Don’t you want me to go?” Alex said. Both men would do anything for each other and it was adorable.

“No, I don’t want you to freeze. And anyway, everyone is there, and I feel like I owe some explanations…and by the way, I’d like to meet Y/N” He didn’t say this out of jealousy. He was truly curious about her. And he wanted to meet his boyfriend’s new friend after all. She was doing a lot for him.

“Okay…hey, hold on, you said Thomas Jefferson is actually gay??”

“Seems like it. Long story, I’ll tell you when I get there” He giggled a little, and so did Alex.

They both just stayed silent for a while.

It was going to be a long day.

“Babe?” Alexander finally spoke. His voice was calming every inch of John’s body. And he felt his heart jump a little hearing that pet name come out of his baby’s mouth.

“Yes honey?”

“I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too. More than anything”.

[archangelgabriellives]

Prompt: Sabriel fire pit date for @key--lime--pie

Word count: 1k

Pairings: Sabriel

Warnings: None

~~~

It was a perfect night, and there was no way that Gabriel could waste it. But he knew his brainy moose wasn't going to pull that perfectly pointy nose out of his books for anything. 

No, this was going to require finesse and cunning. Good thing Gabriel was dripping with both.

“Hey, Sam,” the angel yelled as he quickly appeared in the library, “think fast!” 

Before Sam could even begin to decipher the sneaky smirk on his angel’s face, Gabriel’s snap rang out. The two of them vanished with only the sound of fluttering wings and the crinkling of old paper. 

They appeared not far from where they started, Gabriel transporting them into the wooded area on the south side of the bunker. As he appeared, Sam landed on his ass on the moist ground.

“Gabriel, what the hell?” he asked as he rubbed his sore backside.

“Told you to think fast.” Gabriel offered his hand to his lover, trickster smile still plastered on his face. Sam only offered one of his patented bitch faces in return, slapping Gabriel’s hand away as he stood up on his own, brushing off the leaves and twigs from his jeans. 

“Yeah, well, still not the best way to get my attention.” The hunter’s stink face melted away, though. Just looking too long into his angel’s eyes too long always had that effect on him. “So, what are we doing out here?”

“Felt like bein’ spontaneous, handsome.”

There was one more snap of his fingers, and grace flooded the woods. Matter shifted and atoms instantly reformed into what Gabriel saw in his mind's eye.

A small clearing with a brick fire pit, a fire already warm and crackling in it. The trees were absolutely dripping with fairy lights, adding a pale glow to the clearing. Soft blankets and pillows were piled on the ground, a wicker basket sitting there innocently.

Sam eyed it warily. 

“What is all this?” A hint of a smile pulled at Sam’s lips. He couldn't resist Gabriel’s surprises and his lover knew it. 

Without a word, Gabriel took Sam’s hand and guided him to sit on the blankets. The pillows supplied a firm back to lean against, and yet were the softest and most comfortable Sam had felt. A plaid flannel blanket appeared, fluttering down over both their legs. 

Sam couldn't hide his devoted smile any longer. 

“Pick a drink,” Gabriel asked, lifting the lid of the wicker basket. “Any drink.”

Sam made a show about thinking about it, fingers to his chin and lifting his gaze in thought. He thought back to when he was casually scanning through some random rare liquor website, filling his imaginary cart with all the bottles that he knew he would never buy himself.

Sure, why not.

“How about…a fifty year whiskey.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow in challenge, dipping his hand into the basket. “Brand?”

“Surprise me.”

Without even breaking eye contact, Gabriel pulled a dark bottle from the basket. “This,” he crooned, “is a one hundred year old bottle of Old Overholt whiskey.”

Sam perked up. Of course Gabriel would have to overdo it. Although he certainly wasn't going to stop him.

“You'll never be able to find anything like it without a time hoppin’ babe like me.”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows, bouncing them just to make Sam laugh. He handed the bottle to Sam so he could inspect it and pulled two low ball tumblers magically out of the basket. 

He held them out to Sam, who was happily sniffing the now open bottle. 

“Hungry? When’s the last time you ate, Sam a lam?”

“Longer than I should admit,” Sam sheepishly confessed as he poured the two glasses for them. 

They clinked their drinks, and together they took slow sips. 

“Oh, my god, this is amazing.” Sam sank deeper into his pillow pile, letting the tingling spice of the whiskey warm his blood. “Don't leave this bottle around the bunker. Dean will absolutely hide it in his room if he ever gets a taste.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen.” Gabriel enjoyed his own sip of whiskey. This stuff really was amazing. “Food, Samshine. What do you want to eat?”

“Shouldn't waste this amazing fire. Got any s’mores in there?”

“Really?” Gabriel asked in true surprise. “Mr. Greens At Every Meal wants some sugar?”

“Knock it off, Gabriel,” Sam playfully chided. “Give me my chocolate.”

Without any effort, Gabriel pulled everything he needed out of the basket. Heart shaped marshmallows already on sticks, homemade graham crackers and the best ethical chocolate Gabriel could find. 

Only the best for his moose. 

They sat by the fire for a while, Sam noticing that they never had to throw more logs in as the night went on. They had their dessert first, and then cooked a perfectly spicy vegetable chili for their dinner. 

The two of them sat in their pile of pillows, full of food and a little buzzed on whiskey. 

“What made you wanna do this, Gabriel?” Sam asked. 

Gabriel shifted, pushing himself deeper into the crook of Sam’s arm and sighed contently. “Because it’s a perfect night, my love. And you deserve this.”

Sam looked down at the angel in his arms, the fire light accentuating the beauty and, at the same time, making Gabriel seem aged and wise. His thoughts started to stray, thinking of the things that he had done wrong in his life.

“Stop that,” Gabriel murmured, not opening his eyes and lightly pinching Sam’s side. 

He wanted to squirm away, his ticklishness showing itself, but at the same time he never wanted to leave this pile of soft fabric and his angelic boyfriend. 

“You're perfect, my Sammy. Never forget that, because I’m going to tell you forever.”

Sam pulled Gabriel closer, laying a gentle kiss onto the angel’s forehead. They laid together well into the night, falling asleep under the stars, the ever burning fire keeping them warm until the sun came up.

[crankynewt]

Back to the Future - Chapter Three

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: As you begin to remember who you and Peter really are, the truth of WestView is revealed as you attempt to break free from the endless mind games.

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Major WandaVision Episode Seven spoilers!

A/N: Here’s the much anticipated continuation of Be Okay and Life Could Be a Dream! I had to take more creative liberties than I had intended since we got so little Peter last episode (which is even more of a crime than that beanie), but I hope you guys enjoy anyways! 

The hard ground was cold and damp beneath your cheek. Slowly opening your eyes, darkness was only met with more darkness. After your sight had adjusted to the gloom, you could make out a faint purple glowing coming from the walls. It was almost as if it was omitting from the tangled branches warping across the stone surface.

Pushing yourself off the ground, your bones ached as you used what little energy you had left to sit yourself up. There were no windows in the tiny room and the wooden door across from you was more than likely locked. It’s not like you even had enough power to move over there anyways.

With a sigh, you rubbed your palm against your forehead as you tried to figure out how you’d gotten there. The last thing you remembered was asking Wanda why Peter couldn’t remember you as your real memories came flooding back to your conscious mind.

You didn’t know how long you were falling when you landed on the cold evening grass. There was still just enough adrenaline left in your system for you to immediately jump to your feet, eyes glowing yellow as you raised your fists raised as you took in your surroundings. 

You were on the lawn of some mansion, the towering stone structure dimly illuminated by the lights left on in a few of the windows. Your heart raced as you turned around quickly, seeing nothing but hedges and grass on the massive lawn. 

Although your mind was still racing, you eventually reached the conclusion that knocking on the door was the best option. With your cape trailing behind you, you strode across the grass and up the driveway as you made your way to the front entrance. Despite how intimidating the massive oak doors would normally have seemed, you bravely reached up to the heavy knocker and slammed it down thrice. 

Rather than feeling anxious, you felt annoyed more than anything. Of course Thanos would send you somewhere far away from where you needed to be. You only hoped that this really was Earth and you weren’t stranded on some random planet.

You weren’t sure exactly how long it had been when a timid looking man with glasses finally opened the door.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he took in your super-suited form. A little part of you was almost embarrassed at your appearance, but there were more important things to worry about.

“Yeah, where am I?” You asked, crossing your arms and pursing your lips. 

“Uh, Charles Xavier’s School for the Gifted… I’m sorry, who are you?” He replied, opening the door slightly wider as his confusion intensified.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). And where is this school?” You said, pushing the topic even more. “We are on Earth, right?”

“Are we on Earth?! Why wouldn’t you be on Earth? That’s not just something you don’t know.” He retorted, and you could see the veins on his hand growing a startling shade of blue. You decided to ignore it, if this stereotypical scientist guy wanted to fight then you could easily take him out.

“Okay, so the titan behind the attack on New York a couple years ago, Thanos, is trying to gather these things called infinity stones to wipe out half the universe. Some of his goons were just trying to get the time stone from this wizard in New York, and Iron Man, Spider-Man and I wound up having to save him, which led to us winding up on Thanos’ home planet, Titan.” You explained, making gestures with your hands as you spoke. “Long story short we were there fighting and he opened some portal and dropped me through it and now I’m here.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Bye!” He began closing the door in your face until something, or rather someone, stopped him.

“Wait!” A British voice called from inside the school, prompting the glasses-clad man to open the door even wider than before. This new figure was bald and seated in a wheelchair, rolling closer to you with a curious gaze. “They’re not crazy Hank.” He addressed the man, who quickly stepped out of the way so that you could enter the building and closing the door behind you.

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He introduced himself, reaching out to shake your hand with a knowing gaze. “You are a long way from home, aren’t you. The reality you remember is much farther away and about thirty years in the future.”

“Wait, what?! Thanos yeeted me back to the eighties?!” You exclaimed, shock and terror flowing through your veins as a gust of air blew past you.

“What’s a ‘yeeted’?” A new voice asked and you suddenly noticed a silver haired boy leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “Are you some Marty McFly Back to the Future-character or something?”

You glared in response as you felt annoyed with this stranger and his childish antics. This was going to be a long night.

The memory of your first meeting with your beloved Peter was enough motivation for you to push yourself off the ground, wobbling on unsteady legs as you rushed to the door. Wiggling the knob to no avail, you took a few steps back and raised your hand in an attempt to blow it off it’s hinges.

“That’s not going to work, you know.” A familiar voice behind you spoke. Whipping around, you saw Agnes, except now her hair was tangled and her eyes were glowing purple.

“So you’re the one doing this. Not Wanda…” You said, sizing her up as the woman stroked the rabbit in her arms. 

“Oh no, Wanda is doing this, but I’m the one behind the wheel.” She bitterly smiled. “Agatha Harkness, dear. You see, I needed a Pietro for Wanda but the real one’s been dead just a little too long. Your ‘Peter’ was the perfect replacement, but unfortunately you tagged along when I ripped him from your reality.”

“Peter and Pietro are completely different, Wanda’s eventually gonna figure that out.” You snapped, growing more and more furious with each syllable passing through her lips. 

“Peter’s playing his part like a champ! He won’t be missing you anytime soon.” Each word was nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “But don’t worry about being lonely, you won’t be alone down here much longer.” With a swish and a flick of her fingers, Agnes disappeared into a swirl of purple and Tommy and Billy took her place.

“(Aunt/Uncle) (Y/N)!” They shouted, terrified and immediately running over to where you stood. You met them with open arms, holding the twins close in a hug as you whispered that everything was going to be okay in a failed attempt to comfort them. 

“Mom said Pietro isn’t really our uncle… Who is he?” Tommy questioned as you let go of the duo.

“He’s not… His name is Peter, and he’s from another reality. Your Mom’s brother died a long time ago, but Agatha brought  him over because technically they are the same person? I think? I’m not sure how it works, but they are both Maximoffs and Peter has a little sister named Wanda, too. It’s complicated, but that witch is controlling him.” You explained, answering questions that you didn’t really understand yourself. 

“You’re thinking really loud…” Billy commented, holding his head in his hands as he attempted to block out the noise of your mind rushing a hundred miles an hour.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could talk you felt a gentle tap in your mind. Then another, this prod slightly stronger. And again, the poking becoming quite the nuisance.

“Billy, please don’t try to read my mind.” You said, staring into space as you attempted to keep the child out of your thoughts.

“I’m not.” He replied, dropping his hands to his sides as me met your eyes with a look of confusion.

You matched his puzzlement, the poking continuing and becoming even harder to ignore. Maybe it was a lapse in judgement or your exhaustion catching up to you, but you decided to drop your defences and let this strange presence into your head.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?” A voice in your head asked.

“Charles!”

Taglist:

@cspr-2 @lam-ila @sarcasticbitchs-things @calaryssia​ @ashleysimmons​ 

[dokifluffs]

Switched | Suna Rintarou

Pairing: Suna X Reader (gender neutral) 

Genre: fox! cuteeee flufff tehe 

Author’s Note: @utskushiwaarudo​ once said “what if READER is the baby fox and inarizaki (or only one to two of them) is being domestic and taking care of them and they’re like omg y/n careful not to spill the food *napkin wipe*” so here I am months later ah ha ha 

Gif from @rivaillerose​ 💛

Dark storm clouds gathered all over the sky, not letting a single ray of sunlight in on what could’ve been what of the most beautiful days of the year

Suna laid on his stomach, his back slowly rising and falling, arms curled beneath the pillow his face was nuzzled into

He woke from his deep slumber when a loud boom sounded through the sky, making the ground vibrate

The blanket slid down his body, sliding off to reveal his toned bare back as he rose from the deep slumber he was immersed in

Your own mind began to pick up in activity as you felt the bed ship as Suna woke

Then it occurred to you how last night was the full moon

Today would be the day Suna would be in his little fox form, and it was honestly one of your favorite days of the month since he was especially cuddly

The way he would nuzzle into your lap as he slept all day

“Huh? How am I still-“ Suna looked at his very human hands, his brown hair disheveled from sleep until he saw you move as you woke

“Oh god…” Suna’s eyes went wide as he stared at you

Your body was as small as a newborn baby as you stretched sleepily, your bushy tail lazily wagging side to side, which he assumed you didn’t notice since you looked up to him with a fondness he normally woke up to

“Y/N… Don’t freak out..” His voice was low but you were more confused, especially how he scooped you into your arms, bringing you to the bathroom

Bright sunlight shined in through the skylight as he held you in his arms, standing the two of you in front of the mirror

You looked up to him numerous times as his eyes stayed on you through the mirror

Your pointed ears, dark brown fur that matched Suna’s hair, a bushy tail dangling over his elbow

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you panicked, swarming rapidly in his arms

You couldn’t even look at yourself in disbelief

“No, no, no, why- how?” You thought as you whined as you moved frantically in his arms, he was losing control

“Y/N, wait, you’re gonna- fall…” He winced hearing your loud cry as your body fell from his arms onto the cold tiled ground, scratches littering his bare arms and torso

A sore, aching pain waved through your body as your heart pounded rapidly in your, now little, chest

You had never been a fox before, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around as to why this happened, but you were uncoordinated with your body

Suna recalled the numerous stories and memories of his childhood when he first changed

His legs wobbled

He didn’t know what to do with his tail

He didn’t know how to do anything and all he could do was watch as his being was in a fox’s body and it was after a year

And now this was happening to you

But you were so shaken up, Suna’s heart dropped seeing the fear in your eyes

“Y/N, calm- Stop you’re going to hurt yourself,” He raised his voice higher as you whined, your feet slipping over the tiled floor as you tried to run away as if running could bring your body back to normal

“Don’t move, I got you, alright?” He knelt down, the sun shining from behind his body through the window, he seemed so ethereal through your eyes as he inched his way closer to you

You were shaking, back arched, tail curled in between your legs, claws sliding over the tiled floor as Suna spoke to you

It was so weird since you could understand him yet he couldn’t understand you

“I’m going to pick you up okay?”

You took deep breaths as your heart pounded in your chest

He carefully lifted you into his arms as a puppy, your nails just digging into his arms slightly out of fear but it wasn’t a pain he couldn’t handle

You whimpered as he brought you back to bed, sitting you carefully in his lap as he sat with his legs crossed

“You’ve been the one taking care of me for years whenever I had to change, so now it’s my turn. You’re going to be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised as you looked up to him

The way you looked at him pulled at his heart

You were too adorable in this form

Your ears back, eyes wide and glistening and watering

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” he cracked a rare smile as he pat your head, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had formed in your eyes

“You’ll be alright,” he leaned down, mumbling to your warm, fuzzy head, a rare gesture from Suna since he had always been one to internalize his thoughts and emotions

Rarely one to be the one to show his affection first, only sometimes in private, yet he did it right now as easy as breathing

“I got you,” Suna mumbled

Your heart melted at his words as you whimpered his love

You couldn’t tell if it was now that you were in this new fox form or what but you couldn’t help but let your heart melt at Suna

He sat you on the corner of the bed where you could still see him as he brushed his teeth and washed his face, finally putting a shirt on afterward

You felt so stiff as you sat there, not wanting to move, not wanting to rip the sheets or to fall or anything

You didn’t want to do anything except switch back to normal

After getting dressed and ready for the day, Suna lifted you into his arms like a child as he stroked his hand down your back side

“Is this what it feels like?” You thought to yourself as you let out a sigh, relaxing against his arms and touch, your muscles following his touch as you melted 

“it feels so... good, no wonder he falls asleep so fast when I do it,” you yawned, your tongue automatically licking your own nose after you did so, something you’ve always seen other animals, and Suna, do and now that it was your turn, it felt so strangely natural 

He carried you down the stairs in his arms as the rain bounced off the glass of the skylight that illuminated the stairwell just enough for the stairs to be visible 

You could sort of feel suna’s skin but all you could really feel was a thin constant layer of warmth, and warmer areas where his body was pressed to you 

“I’ll make breakfast,” he said as he stood in the entrance to the kitchen, humming to himself in thought 

“where can I put them...” Suna stood there for almost a whole minute as you just stayed still in his arms, not knowing what to do since you couldn’t really do anything anyways 

even moving around in his grasp was nerve wracking 

you did not need to fall or break anything or hurt yourself 

And suna knew this too as he thought

you were more than capable of being by yourself since you could handle yourself but he also wanted to keep an eye on you while he was in the kitchen but leaving you on the floor would be dirty and cold 

but leaving you on a chair would be scary if you were to fall and hurt yourself 

“Y/N, I’m going to leave you on the couch and then I’ll bring it over when it’s all ready, alright?”

He turned back, headed toward the living room toward the couches 

He leaned over, reaching his arms to put you down 

“It’s okay, you won’t hurt yourself at this height,” he smiled as your paws wrapped around his forearms, tail curling around as well. “I got you.” 

You slowly let go, trusting Suna as he set you down onto the plush cushion 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he patted your head as you sat on the couch 

It felt so weird 

like, you had control over your legs and arms like normal but sitting and standing and walking, it all felt so strange yet natural at the same time 

And this was what Suna and the other inariaki team went through once a month 

Suna stood in the kitchen, thinking about what he could possibly make with his skills 

but now that he actually thought about it, it was always you who really fed him aside from Osamu 

All he could think of to do was the standard cereal with milk 

Suna wasn’t as skilled as you to do fancy things like make eggs and pancakes and such 

He carried over two bowls of cereal with milm over to the living room, setting one on the coffee table that was just tall enough to be the same level as the couch cushion you were on 

He sat besides you as he ate a big of his cereal before setting his bowl down and watched you 

“How am I supposed to eat this?” You pondered as you stared at the cereal before you 

You licked up the milk like a cat but you wanted the actual cereal before it got too soggy 

You obviously couldn’t use your spoon

you ended up sticking your.. snout.. into the bowl, the cold milk stinging your nose but you were able to eat the cereal 

it was good and even your tail wagged but it wasn;t the cleanest 

“careful, Y/N,” Suna laughed as he plucked a few tissues, wiping your chin as well as the spilt milk around the bowl 

Suna did as he said he would and watched you for the rest of the day, taking care of you

although he did have to call osamu on how to make some things but aside from that, it was fine 

it was a very new experience for the both of you 

but it showed you such a new side of Suna he never really expressed before  

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged or removed for all my haikyuu posts): @makeusfreefromthisfandom @yams046 @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04  @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv  @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212 @proherotheflamehashira @celestair @katiea03 @manga-only @chesirekittycat @ilovecheese08 @amy-yurima @realityisabitch-blr @suga-tofu @ushislittlewife @nabisonyeo94  @aaprilshowers @emotional-ayato @to-move-on-means-to-grow @kellesvt @haikyuu-galaxy @8-eight-8 @xiaoqiji @japanesevenom @cemeiia @pantherhappy @sassyglassesbunny @devilgirlcrybabiey  @ushijimacentral​ @manjiroarchiviste​ @clydesterminal  asd

[jackhues]

breakfast time - jamie drysdale (valentine's day special)

request: hellooooo! could you do “i could marry you rn” or whatever the valentines day prompt was for jamie drysdale? happy valentines day lovey!!

requested by: anon : )

notes: thank youu, this is a short one, but i really like how it turned out, super cute! thanks for requesting <3

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @l0veforhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @ratkingbunting , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @sundriedmilano , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei, @cinnamonpancake , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe <3

join my taglist!

gif not mine!

you couldn’t remember your dream.

it had something to do with a giant red person and some birds. it made no sense, but you knew it was a fun dream. and now you couldn’t even remember it.

with a light groan, you opened your eyes, wondering what woke you up. 

the first thing you realized was that your bed was empty, jamie nowhere to be found. the second thing you realized was that you could hear some music playing from outside your room.

“that’s not a good sign,” you muttered to yourself.

after taking a minute to mentally prepare yourself for the day, you finally got ready, before following the sound of the music.

you head down the stairs, nodding your head along to the taylor swift song, singing quietly. either you were going to walk in on jamie almost burning down the house, or cooking something really wonderful.

you sniffed the air experimentally, sighing in relief as you smelt nothing burning.

continuing your trek towards the kitchen, where the music was the loudest, you were pleasantly surprised to see a shirtless jamie dancing along as he tried to flip a pancake.

you leaned against the doorframe, taking a minute to admire your boyfriend.

he moved the pancake to a plate, setting it on the table, nearly dropping it at the sight of you.

“jesus, y/n,” he muttered. “how long have you been there?”

“long enough to be turned on,” you answered, shrugging.

he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head as you settled in the chair. you grinned at jamie as he passed over your favourite syrup and a glass of orange juice.

“if you asked, i would marry you right now,” you said, taking a bite of the pancake. “this is good. when did you get so good at making pancakes?”

“i’ve always been good at pancakes!” jamie sounded offended.

you raised an eyebrow, remembering the time he nearly burnt down the house, but didn’t push it. after all, he seemed to have improved since then.

besides, the pancakes, the music, jamie wearing a pair of sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips, that was more than enough for you.

[jimothystu]

Friends Don't - Bo x Jess Part 1

Hello, hello

Title: Hello Hello by Elton John Word count: 1.2k Warnings/notes: No warnings except there may be errors or whatever. But here's the first part of my Bo x OC fic! The summary of the whole thing can be found here, and background information about the fic and my OC can be found here. Oh, and the title of this story is Friends Don't because this entire story is pretty much based on one song called Friends Don't by Maddie and Tae.

Tag list: (I'm just going to tag the peeps who said they wanted to be tagged in my other fics and peeps who said they wanted to read this, but if you'd rather not be tagged in these, let me know!!) @donttelltheelff, @bodacious-bichette, @lam-ila, @erikkallgren, @lclb13, @brook-luvs-bluejays

Jessoca Stone wrapped her bathrobe around herself and let her wet hair out of its towel, the brown locks falling over her shoulders. She put her glasses on and went out to the hall, making her way to the den. She sang softly to herself as she passed by the living room.

A figure on the sofa caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Pausing, Jess looked over, expecting to see Cavan. “Didn’t think you—” She trailed off when she realized the figure was, in fact, not Cavan.

A man around Cavan’s age with dark hair down to his shoulders sat, having looked up from his phone to look at her.

She instantly recognized him as Bo Bichette: Cavan’s friend and teammate.

Heat rushed to Jess’s face. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Um. Hi.”

Bo looked at her with an amused, but small, smile on his face. “Hi.”

Then she heard a muffled voice coming from the balcony. Looking over, Jess saw Cavan on the phone, pacing back and forth.

“I uh… didn’t think Cav would be back…” She frowned and looked back at Bo, feeling flustered. “And definitely not with company…”

“He forgot something,” Bo said with a shrug. He raised his eyebrows at her in question.

Nodding, she tightened her robe around herself, hyperaware of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a bathrobe in front of Bo freaking Bichette. Of course she knew who he was—Cavan was a family friend so Jess had seen numerous Blue Jays games in Toronto and on the TV. As such, she knew who most of the team was.

“Oh!” she said, suddenly realizing he had no idea who she was and why she was half-naked in Cavan Biggio’s apartment. “I’m Jess. Jessica Stone. I’m uh, Cavan’s friend.”

Bo stood and held out a hand. “Bo Bichette.”

“I know,” she said as she took his hand, blushing harder at how weird that sounded. “I mean—I’ve seen you play. With Cavan. He talks about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope,” Bo mused.

“Mostly,” Jess said with a meek smile, pulling her hand back.

“Cav mentioned who you were, but he had to duck out for a call before he said much more than your name and the fact that you’re staying with him for a little bit,” Bo told her, folding his arms over his chest casually.

Jess nodded slightly. “Well, I’m just staying here until I find a place of my own.”

Bo regarded her with a curious expression. “How do you two know each other?”

“Our parents have known each other for years, so Cav and I kind of grew up together. Until my family and I moved up to Canada when I was fourteen.”

Bo nodded. “Have you been to Toronto before?”

Jess smiled and nodded. “Oh yeah, a few times. Even to a few Blue Jays games.”

Bo grinned. “How well do you know the area?”

“Not as well as I’d like,” she admitted. “When I’ve visited I mostly just stayed right downtown.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around sometime if Cavan hasn’t already done that.” He tilted his head to the side and offered a smile.

Jess smiled back, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. “I’d like that.”

Cavan stepped inside, pocketing his phone. “Sorry, that was—oh, hey Jess.”

Looking over, Jess smiled slightly. “Hey. Bo and I were just getting acquainted.”

Cavan raised his eyebrow. “In your bathrobe?”

Jess’s cheeks pinkened again. “Well I didn’t think anyone was home…”

“We got back a little while ago,” Cavan said, heading to the kitchen. “Nice singing, by the way.”

If her cheeks weren’t already pink, they certainly were now. “Oh god, you heard? I’m sorry.”

Bo laughed. “Why are you sorry? You have a nice voice.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled awkwardly.

Taking a water bottle out of the fridge, Cavan said, “Do you want to head to the field with us? You could hang out while we train.”

“Would that be okay?” she asked.

Cavan shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You’re my guest, so you can come into the clubhouse until the game. Just so long as you don’t get in the way of practice.”

She smiled, excitement bubbling in her chest. While she’d been to multiple games over the past few years, she’d never been in the clubhouse of the Rogers Centre. It would be nice to meet some of Cavan’s other friends and teammates. “If you’re sure it’s all right, then I’d love to come along," she said.

Bo smirked at her. “You can have the full tour.”

She smiled shyly. “Sounds like fun. I uh, just have to get dressed.”

“Take your time,” said Cavan, who was preparing a snack.

Jess hurried to the den and shut the door.

Looking at herself in the small mirror on the wall, Jess sighed. “Of course Cav had to bring over a friend. And of freaking course I had to be half-naked in front of them.”

She shook her head slowly as she began to get dressed. Living with and near Cavan and his team was going to be an experience, she knew that much.

On their way to the Rogers Centre, Cavan and Bo talked about stuff Jess couldn’t really contribute to. Things like game plans and inside jokes about the team.

She didn’t mind, though. She was enjoying listening to them chat and laugh with each other. She was just happy to be in Toronto with new people and new experiences ahead of her.

Bo’s laugh trailed off. He glanced at Jess, who was walking on Cavan’s other side. “So what brings you to Toronto?”

She looked away from the busy street and to Bo. “I just finished school and I wanted to go somewhere new,” she said with a shrug.

Bo nodded. “What did you study?”

“Literature and journalism,” she replied. “It wasn’t professional baseball, but I enjoyed them.”

Cavan laughed softly. “Enjoyed them? Please, every family gathering you attended in the past four years involved you recommending some piece of literature. Face it, Jess: you’re a nerd.”

She smiled softly, looking down to her feet. “Maybe a little.”

“I’ve been meaning to read more,” Bo said, “maybe you can recommend something sometime?”

Her smile widened. “I’d love to.”

“Oh no, now you’ve done it,” Cavan teased.

Jess rolled her eyes playfully and Bo laughed.

“What do you want to do now that you’re done school?” Bo asked as they rounded a corner.

“I’m not sure,” Jess admitted. “I’d love to be a freelance journalist, I’m just not entirely sure what area of journalism I want to go into.”

“Become a sports journalist,” Bo suggested with a smile.

Jess smiled, too. “I had thought of that, actually.”

Cavan slung his arm around her shoulders. “Our own personal journalist.”

“Isn’t that Hazel Mae?” Jess asked.

Cavan shrugged. “Nah. She’s pretty close with all of us, but she works for Sportsnet, not us.”

Jess nodded. “I don’t think teams have their own journalists, Cav.”

“You could be the first,” he mused.

“Maybe.” She smiled, but she doubted that would happen. Still, it was a nice thought.

She leaned against Cavan as they walked, relishing in the feeling of his arm over her shoulders. It had been too long since she and Cavan had had the chance to spend time together, and she was thrilled at the opportunity to live with him for a little while. She'd missed him. She just hoped she'd get along with his friends. But, she thought, if her interactions with Bo thus far were any indication of how things would go, she'd be just fine.

[znikomek]

For @lams-tallmadge

A bottle of raspberry juice, two glasses, cutlery. The table won't set itself.

It had been months since John had left, and Alexander was no less angry at him, only worried more and more every day. The war was won, he had negotiated the surrender, why did he have to leave again? Not to mention that if one of them would have to go, it should have been Alexander.

He nearly crushed a plate against a table, thinking about the numerous arguments they had had on the subject, the hissing and shouting. And John's departure in the night, leaving the bed cold and a note in the kitchen. Alexander had had no idea how to explain to Frances her father decided to leave her again.

And, he would have never thought he would become a single parent. 

He was not a widower, though the fear of John being wounded accompanied him every hour, but he had to raise Frances in a new country by himself. She had been brought as soon as John had learned about Martha's death. When in February the ship with her on board docked in New York, they both were nearly paralysed by fear. And barely three weeks later, John had escaped this frightening duty, leaving him with a scared five-year-old to whom he had not been a father yet.

Frances and he learned to get along, developing family love, through hard times. Alexander was still pursuing his wish of establishing a law practice, studying at nights, working part-time, writing for a newspaper and working on the post-war establishment of the country, and taking care of the little girl who had found herself under his charge for the rest of those twenty-four hours he was given each day.

Despite his childhood being flawed, in his head, he couldn’t imagine what Frances must have felt, abandoned once again. Yet somehow, she was trusting, coming to him the first morning John no longer was there, finding him crying from anger and frustration. That day, they spent nearly two hours comforting one another, Frances turning out to be highly sympathetic.

He looked out through the window in his- no, their, rented house in New York, the rent paid by John’s money. The naivety he’d see his lover on the doorstep had grown up into him and kept itself there well. Surprisingly, he wasn’t there.

Alexander sighed and went to call Frances for dinner. She should have been playing in her room. He wondered how many hours she had been alone, with no parents, no siblings. No child deserved such a fate.

He returned to the kitchen to take food out of the oven when he heard tiny feet coming to him. Alexander put the dish back and turned around to face his little daughter. 

Frances looked messy, with her hair in her eyes. He leaned and tucked the blond strands behind her ear. He couldn't believe how similar she was to John - the same hair colour, those same eyes. And she was tall as for her age, rapidly growing. Buying her new clothes when the old ones became too small had been a challenge for him, though he was content with the result of what he had managed to pull off in his budget and her needs.

“Daddy, I made you!” She grinned and reached out her dirty hands to him, to grab his arm and take him to her room to show the drawing, and Alexander couldn't but smile at her. Giving her John's pencils had been a good idea, judging by the amount of joy it had brought her. That was the least her biological father could do for her, share some objects.

“You shall show me after dinner! But now-” he reached for a kitchen cloth- “we clean ourselves up and eat.”

She had no problem scrambling on the chair. The complications started later. At first, there was playing with the food on the plate using her fork. Then came the pout, quickly followed up by picking a red cube and squishing it slightly. In the end, she whined, “I don’t want to eat carrot!”

Another thing to add to the list of things she did not eat. It grew at least as fast as the girl, and Alexander found it difficult to keep up with it. Just a week ago, he would have thought carrots weren’t banned from the plate.

“Then eat the potatoes and meat,” he sighed. He will have to take care the next time not to include any unwanted vegetables in her meals.

“I don’t want to. Will I get fruit cake for dessert?”

Alexander looked behind himself, at the butter biscuits already in the oven, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and started to count to ten. He would have never thought parenthood could be so exhausting. In his head, it had always been a joy to share with your partner, yet there he was, sleep-deprived, frustrated, overworked, trying to make ends meet and simultaneously raising a little girl, demanding lots of care and attention, having been spared it for a long time.

His chest raised and fell in soundless laughter, thinking about all the piling duties and chores, and forced a smile. “Fanny, sweetheart, can we eat biscuits today? I can make a cake for tomorrow.”

Frances looked at him, chewing potatoes loudly, and intended to speak with the food still in her mouth but he stopped her. They waited for a verdict as she swallowed. “I can agree on that,” she nodded slowly.

Alexander grinned.

The rest of the meal went agreeably, with Frances babbling a little about pretty hair ribbons and hairstyle she had seen on a girl when they had gone on a walk and if she could get some new as well. He couldn’t say no to it, only started calculations where and for how much he could get some, and how to coax her hair better.

They had finished it and Frances had gone to prepare the exhibition while Alexander got to the washing-up. He managed to soak the first plate before he heard a loud knock on the door.

Alexander put it away, wiped his hands, and went to open it, wondering if he was supposed to meet someone but had forgotten about it. He unbolted it and opened, taking a step back. His gaze flew on the figure standing on the doorstep.

“Good afternoon, sir.” The man took his hat off and grinned. 

It took Alexander two seconds before his heart nearly stopped, putting together the blond hair, blue eyes, uniform, the smile and the deep voice.

With the voice stuck in his throat, he threw himself on John’s neck, not noticing John had to take a step back not to fall from the impact and held up sobbing. A familiar scent wormed its way into his nose despite the tears and it was the scent of happiness.

Alexander finally pulled away, looking John up and down again in a passing, noticing a sling on his right arm, then pressed his lips, clenched his fists and hit John lightly on the left arm a few times. “How could you do this to me?!” The cry was filled with anger this time.

John’s eyes clouded and he pushed Alexander inside, closing the door behind himself. The streams flowing from his lover’s eyes were telling him a lot.

“How could you do this to me?” Alexander stopped abusing John’s healthy shoulder and now held his hands on the sides. “How could you do this to me?” He tiptoed, cupped John’s face and pulled him in a fervent kiss, trying to give vent to his ecstasy. “How could you leave me for so long?” Parted his lips to give John the lead. “How could you sneak out in the middle of the night like a burglar? How could you abandon your daughter? How could you put yourself at risk? How could you get hurt?”

He paused, holding up a quiet moan, but didn’t want to stop John, only blasting out in the breaks for breathing. “How could you ignore my letters? How could you leave your daughter with a stranger? How could you be such a rogue to those who love you?”

After those words, he took a big step back and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, scrutinising the disappointment and maybe hurt in John’s eyes as he did so.

“Are you hungry?” He stuttered out and backed to the kitchen, only to return a second later to place a kiss on John’s cheek. “You are telling me then what you were thinking.”

The first few sentences John could cough out were barely about anything. He apologised and apologised, and apologised once again, but at that moment, it was enough. They would have time to talk later, just the sound of John’s voice made Alexander feel safe.

He had put a plate on the table when Frances appeared, searching for him. “Daddy?” Her sight shifted onto John, and a question appeared there.

John turned in his seat. Alexander could notice him swallow nervously, and the fear that appeared in his eyes. If he had been him, he would have been scared as well.

“Hello, daughter mine,” he forced a smile, but his voice was breaking. 

“Father,” Frances curtsied low and tried not to sound surprised. “Daddy, you will come, right?”

“Of course, Fanny.” He beamed at her and watched her disappear as if meeting her father after months didn’t move her at all.

John dropped his gaze with shame, and Alexander wished he could feel sympathy for him. 

“Daddy, huh?” he finally mumbled.

“We had to take care of ourselves,” Alexander answered shortly, but stood next to John and embraced him. “This is not important now. How did you get hurt, dear?” He lowered his voice and rested his chin on John’s head in a familiar manner.

There was a moment of hesitation, but it passed. “We had a skirmish near Combahee. I should have waited for Greene’s reinforcement, but I didn't. At first, they shot my horse. Then, I got hit in the arm. My men dragged me aside after another bullet endangered my side, where I lay until Greene’s physician took care of me. In that tent I decided I had to return to you."

Alexander huffed, both with pride and disappointment, and placed a tender kiss on the top of John's head. "I love you, my fool. I don't forgive you though."

"I should have expected that."

Alexander rocked back and forth gently, keeping John as close as possible, relishing this feeling, this particular ingredient of the mixture that boiled in him. "Eat now. I shall go check on Fanny, but then, I am not leaving your side." He pulled away, with regret, and stepped towards the exit.

"Alex?"

"Yes?" With a hand on the doorframe, he looked over his shoulder.

"I need a break," John whispered.

In his eyes, there was an expression Alexander had only till then seen in a mirror, a one he could not name. It was terrible exhaustion, stress, fear, something built from those. A depressing washout.

"You are home now. I will take care of you if you let me to."

[zweicurious]

Yeehaw! 1.7k

Just some normal Feldspar shootin' lessons. :)

“Feldspar, I-I'm not so sure this is a good idea,” Adonis says, weighing the pistol in his hand. It looks so small in his gauntlet, smaller than the most useful combat knife, yet the intricate mechanisms were finely tuned for one purpose. He holds it like Feldspar showed him, his forefinger braced against the frame of the gun so as to not squeeze the trigger accidentally, having very nearly misfired once. Quite frankly it scared him, unused to the deadliness of an armament coming easily and without great commitment.

A gloved hand claps his shoulder as Feldspar comes up behind him, tugging their mask up to the top of their nose bridge, tucking their gold-scarred skin away. “I reckon you can handle it.”

But Feldspar made it look good, easy almost, and Adonis figured that he was about the only wanted man south of the canyons that had any hangups on firearms. Courtesy was about the last thing that was helpful on the run, and he knew he wasn't doing himself – or his companions, for that matter – any favors by refusing Feldspar's offer. It hadn't hurt that Adonis didn't know how to broach the topic of sparring anymore, after he had…

He didn't know what he had done, he just knew the more he tried to bottle up whatever was happening inside him, the more bizarre magic seemed to seep out of him. What was worse, was that the feeling was familiar; how reality seemed so much more malleable around him, a shift in time and space from strings - just out of his sight - being pulled. Whispers of things, smells he couldn't explain, knowledge he didn't know how he knew. Zariel erupting into black, viscous ooze under his blade. Tentacles sprouting out underneath him as the earth enveloped him. He hadn't laid hands on his allies for fear the magic would twist and writhe as it does when he strikes his enemies down; knowing surely Pholtus' holy flame has long since abandoned him.

He feels far from empty without it. When Feldspar's voice broke, he felt eyes roll around in the back of his skull. Instead of probing his head, he gripped the hilt of his halberd and swallowed the blooming nausea, knowing that when his fingers found purchase under the helm, the sensation would be gone. Something inside him seems to squirm at his friend's visible misery, and he hopes he's wrong.

He really hopes he's wrong.

Taking a breath, he lifts the pistol, aiming at the bottle Feldspar had set up on a cattle fence, the brown glass glowing a fine amber in the evening light.

They stifle a laugh, “You gotta remember to breathe out too, big guy.”

He nods, his grip on the firearm a little too tight. With some effort, he exhales out and manages to drop his shoulders. A flash of panic washes over him as he imagines the pistol dripping through his fingers.

The gun goes off with a bang, echoing in his helm like a struck bell. Had he squeezed the trigger? He must have, as Feldy was bending down to look at the bullet lodged into the base of the fence. They let out a low whistle, and raise an eyebrow at him. “How'd you manage bein' on the lam this long with aim this shit?”

“I ain't never run into something that I couldn't just hit with my halberd.” He lies. “'Sides, what good'll a gun do me, then?”

“Sometimes you're better off not bein' so damn close to the things that want to kill you.” Feldspar says, pulling the gun from his hand, only to spin it around their finger. “Not all of us are men made of metal, y'know.” Their spurs jingle as they brace a heel against the lower wood rung of the fence, turning to face Adonis.

“Yeah, well, I'm no gunslinger, and that's fine by me. I'll leave the fancy shootin' to you.” Adonis goes to lean on the fence next to them, grabbing the still-intact bottle by its neck.

Feldspar jams their elbow into his stomach, or where his stomach is, under the plate. “You think I'm fancy?”

He snorts, his laugh echoing behind his mask. “I think you're a showoff.” He chucks the bottle into the distance on the last word, and in the corner of his vision he sees Feldspar whip the pistol from their hip. The bottle explodes half-way through its arc to the ground, the splinters of glass a glowing orange starburst in the sunset rays. Adonis just shakes his head, smiling, despite it all.

Feldspar doesn't lower their mask, but he can see the crinkles around their eyes, and hear the smile in their voice, anyway. “What? Was I just supposed to let a perfectly good bottle go to waste?”

They laugh together, and he tries to swallow the oil slick feeling that nearly chokes him. The pressure of a skull too small - or too full - builds behind his eyes, and the only comfort he can find is in the fact that they are his eyes.

"How'd that, uh, thing go with you an' Marley?" He says, as a way of distraction. Both for himself, and for Feldspar.

They kick the dirt, and look past the horizon, "Fine. Don't think she'll be sending me any letters, but it went… fine, I guess."

"If you want a girl to write you letters, you could ask Saoirse, she seems the type." Adonis answered, trying to be helpful.

They kind of laugh at that, the doodads on their hat jingling as they shake their head and brush off the thought. "How's about you and Vinnie though? You two seemed to hit it off like a house fire at the bar."

Adonis sucks in a long breath through his teeth. He hates not knowing what to do with his hands, so he busies himself with picking at the fence."I think he hates me."

They laugh, and then try to cough when they realize Adonis was being serious. "What'd you do? I know I'd run out the door if I saw him in his unmentionables."

"No — nothing like that, I just, might'a tried too hard to, I dunno, scare him off?"

"Worked a little too well?"

"A little too well, yeah."

They sit in comfortable silence, and Adonis finds solace in knowing that even though he has burned pretty much every bridge he's ever crossed, Feldspar still seems to stick around. Even after whatever had happened between them earlier.

What had happened? He had tried to piece it together, but whatever he did, he didn't do on purpose. And it could happen again without him trying.

Something twinges in the back of his neck, and his vision goes white.

Fear lights up his spine like lightning. He still had time to ruin this, time enough to take all the good he still has in his like and mar it beyond recognition, everything black and formless secretion, until he finally drowns in it.

Feldspar goes to lay a hand on his pauldron, but seems to think better of it. "Adonis…?"

His gloved hand cradles his forehead, the mask barring everything but the semblance of touch. Only fitting that he is stripped of any comfort, the apostate that he is, hiding in plain sight.

He has to get this under control. He would dam up whatever sordid divinity threatened to pour out of him, even if it poisoned him from the inside; lest it pollute everything around him. Why me? he thinks, expecting no answer. The chittering of gnashing chelicerae echoes back at him, and he almost chalks it up to the horrid sound being seared into his memory, except for the image projected into his brain.

When they were both younger, Theron teased him for his lack of imagination.

"So picture an apple." Theron instructed, his hands on his knees, legs crossed on the chapel floor.

"An apple?" Adonis asked, unsure.

"You have to close your eyes!" Theron chided. Adonis huffed, but he humored him. "Okay, so it's red, right?"

"I know that it's red. It's an apple."

"But you can see red?"

"What do you mean can I see it-"

"The apple? The fucking apple?"

"Where?"

And so they argued. Up until that point, Adonis had lived in the comfortable cocoon of ignorance, as other people imagined whole worlds in their mind's eye, unbeknownst to him. Theron shattered his assumption that everyone saw only blackness, and thought only in concepts, and sometimes, noises. He would try many times in the coming years, to recall that apple's shape and color, to varying degrees of success.

Currently, he nearly keels over with an imagined scene of flawless clarity — a memory not his own. Or, not from his own point of view, rather. He watches himself, his face a few years younger than the one he glimpses in the shaving mirror every so often, splotchy and red with tears. His hair is long and silver, and cleaner than his torn and dirtied vestments, once white, now stained with all matters of debris and grime. Is that how I looked? He wonders, his voyeur leaving the question unanswered. Together, they look down at himself, as he lay limp and small in front of the offering cup. Adonis wretches himself from the vision as the stone chalice comes into view, either unwilling or unable to confront whatever communion had happened between them that night. Nausea makes his eyesight swim, the chill of night settling in as the sun slips behind the horizon. The sky is a slate blue, muddied by the orange that slowly dims until it's gone completely.

The wind rustles Feldspar's hair. He's still gripping his mask, peeking through his gloved fingers as a child would. Shame grips him, knowing Feldspar is seeing through him now; them being far too intelligent to not see the boy behind the armor playing at being a man.

No, he knows what he is, and it doesn't make a lick of difference whether or not Feldspar or Saoirse have figured it out yet. Some little, selfish part of him hopes they never do.

"Feldspar?"

"Yeah?" Their voice is gentle, unsure, like they're trying to saddle up a spooked horse.

"I think I'm gonna turn in,"

They offer their good night's and sleep well's but he is already walking away, pushing every thought out and down in favor of movement. Before he knows it, he is riding again, Lady's hooves like thunder on the earth. He refuses to think about her tack being on and ready before he was back at camp.