#reed abbott

[nevermoresart]

WHAT'S THIS???? ANOTHER MINI COMIC PAGE??? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK >:3

[nevermore-ocs]

[Dating Reed Abbott Headcanons!]

-Let's get one thing out in the open and clear as fuckin water here-

-The initial meeting the two of you had was probably the most AWKWARD encounter in the fuckin galaxy I am so sorry

-God bless him, but undergoing crippling paranoia and PTSD that hardened you into a selectively mute person doesn't exactly make him a Casanova in any version of the word

-He probably accidentally bumped into you at the store or something, and you startled him more than the swap of it cause of him always being on edge

-And when he realized that his big fuckin self almost did indeed bulldoze someone over, he lowly mumbles out a one word apology which can seem uncaring, I know, but he's really doing his damnedest to express that he's full taking the blame for that

-He even passes you this sweet, thin, little smile on his lips to further cement he's genuinely apologetic about it all

-And that was about it for that entire meeting, and then the awkwardness following of the two of you standing next to each other at the store

-Not speaking

-Til inevitably one of you wretched the bandage off of the wound and left first

-But it was only ever like that that first time

-As the reoccurring times continued of the two of you by chance greeting one another in the same spot in the store for the things that you both required for your day to day life, you were probably the first one to crack a joke about one of you two stalking the other that brings out this real laugh out of him, it was louder than he's ever been, and this flash of true elation that crossed his face certainly was worthy of those beats your heart skipped over

-The conversations with him that followed after that prior first chance meeting flowed unbreaking, smoothly, Reed's a natural listener who harked to every single word that you vented, that you dumped onto his shoulders, the very syllables of them, he clung onto with a steely grasp, he'd be able to recall some beginning, fleeting one off thoughts you'd murmur out to him, unexpectant of him to ever draw back to it, but he always could, and did

-Reed never really talks about his previous life, one mention of his last name was enough stress that he was going to drive you away from him - and even reassurances from you weren't enough to inch out some more to alleviate the stress on his heart and mind, but anything that you'd try would really never be enough

-You'd also find out that this 6'4" man that was kicked out of police ranks cause of his legally classified weapons he has for fists almost ended a man's life, is, actually softer than what he appears

-A past-time that quells his stress away for that night would be Animal Crossing on his Switch, or Stardew Valley or something

-YOU ABSOLUTELY KISSED THIS MAN FIRST

-HE'S BEEN SHELTERED SINCE 10, THIS MAN DOES NOT KNOW THE SPECIFICS OF KISSING SO YOU'RE TEACHING HIM

-Reed is VERY TOUCHY, due to this urge to keep what's most important to him safe, so, expect his arm to be around your waist, your shoulders, a hand on your waist, his much big palm enveloping around your hand

-CONGRATS YOU HAVE A FUCKIN WALKING HUMAN ATTACK DOBERMAN AS A BOYFRIEND, this man would literally break the arm of someone else to make sure you were untouched and unharmed

-Again he struggles in the whole department of, just, being in a relationship so asking for things like cuddles, and kisses, and the everyday just exchanged things in a couple, it's a challenge for him to ask from you but is always more than happy to give them to you the very second you ask

-He's also the kind of, stay at home date, kind of dude, but at your place since he figures just having an artillery just embedded throughout his house isn't exactly the most romantic, comforting thing in the world

-His cuddling type is also something likeeee this

-A human blanket, assurance, on both of your parts, that he's right there within your grasp at a moment's notice whenever you need him and that you're right there, a reality, and not a wishful dream his damaged mind can soundly retreat to as a fruitless endeavor to flee the harsh present day he's begrudgingly had to grow used to

-You're his life now, and he refers to you as such with that nickname of "his life", and he's willing to die for you, to kill for you, either for him, what bliss

[finnickodaair]

Joel Miller & Lee Abbott THE LAST OF US (2023- ) / A QUIET PLACE (2018)

[lascitasdelashoras]

Lou Reed in New York City, 1982. Photo by Waring Abbott

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alyssa Tirrell at MMFA:

Dr. Eithan Haim, a former medical resident at Texas Children's Hospital, was indicted in May for allegedly illegally accessing trans patients’ records, which he subsequently shared with Manhattan Institute senior fellow Chris Rufo.  Right-wing media figures have since defended Haim and brought him in for interviews, often equating the care allegedly provided at Texas Children's Hospital — such as the prescription of "puberty blockers" — with harm or mutilation and alleging that Haim is the target of political persecution.  The campaign has successfully raised both Haim's profile and at least $888,865, which he claims will be used for both his legal defense and “offensive legal action against those who have abused their professional responsibility in service of radical transgender ideology.” 

Haim allegedly illegally accessed trans patients’ records

On February 18, 2022, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton issued an opinion that qualified youth gender-affirming care as "child abuse", prompting Texas Children's Hospital to announce that it would stop proving such care. Although the opinion was not legally binding, the hospital released a statement announcing that it would stop prescribing gender-affirming hormone therapies. The statement, which also alluded to recent measures that Gov. Greg Abbott had taken against families of children receiving gender-affirming care, added that “this step was taken to safeguard our healthcare professionals and impacted families from potential legal ramifications.” [Office of the Attorney General of Texas, 2/18/22; American Civil Liberties Union, 2/23/22; The Washington Post, 3/8/22]

In late spring 2023, Dr. Eithan Haim allegedly accessed the records of trans patients at Texas Children's Hospital and shared them with Manhattan Institute senior fellow Chris Rufo. Haim, a resident at Baylor College of Medicine who had previously conducted rotations at Texas Children's Hospital, shared redacted files with Rufo that allegedly demonstrated that the hospital was continuing to provide gender-affirming services to minors. [Houston Public Media, 6/10/24; U.S. Attorney's Office, Southern District of Texas, 6/17/24; United States District Court of the Southern District of Texas, 5/29/24]

On June 2, 2023, a Texas bill restricting gender-affirming care for children was signed into law. S.B. 14 prohibited “the provision to certain children of procedures and treatments for gender transitioning, gender reassignment, or gender dysphoria” as well as “the use of public money or public assistance to provide those procedures and treatments.” The law went into effect on September 1 of that year. [Texas legislature, 6/2/23]

[...]

Right-wing media figures platformed Haim in solo interviews, where he defended himself 

Since January 2024, with the revelation of his identity, Eithan Haim has appeared as a guest alongside many prominent right-wing media figures. In these interviews Haim neither claimed to have worked directly with trans patients nor disputed sharing the documents with Chris Rufo. Instead, Haim often alleged that he was being unfairly targeted and defended his case on the grounds that the care allegedly provided at Texas Children's Hospital was harmful to pediatric patients. 

Right-wing media defend Dr. Eithan Haim’s HIPAA-violating ways of illegally accessing trans patients’ records while at Texas Children’s Hospital in which he shared those records with far-right anti-LGBTQ+ agitator Christopher Rufo.

[lisamarie-vee]

[queen-daya]

Happy 44th Birthday John Krasinski (October 20, 1979)

[coollovebibliophilethings]

Murder and Mayhem in Muskego edited by Jon & Ruth Jordan

Title: Murder and Mayhem in MuskegoAuthor: Jon Jordan, Ruth Jordan, Megan Abbott, Dana Cameron, Reed Farrel Coleman, Hilary Davidson, Sean Doolittle, J.M. Edwards, Andrew Grant, Ted Hertel, Jr., Chris F. Holm, Brad Parks, Gary Phillips, Kat Richardson, Greg Rucka, Marcus Sakey, Tom Schreck, Nathan Banks, Zoe Sharp, Bryan VanMeter & Jeri WestersonIn: Murder and Mayhem in Muskego (Jon & Ruth…

[sallycantdance]

lou reed drinking a milkshake in greenwich village by waring abbott (1982)

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Gale.” Gale can hear the smile in Bucky’s voice but he can't find the humor in it.

(Gale, John, and forks in the road)

The moonless night is dark. 

It is only by the grace of the bicycle’s lights that they can see where they’re going at all. Gale focuses on his pedalling, feet going round and round, steady as a metronome. He sees Bucky in his peripherals, the light from his own bicycle intersects occasionally with the light from Gale’s - the way they cross fascinates Gale enough that he almost cycled into a little dip in the dirt road.

“Alright, Gale?”

There. 

The name his mother gave him. The sound of it tumbles almost awkwardly from Bucky’s mouth and Gale’s own curls slightly in distaste even as he hums non-committedly to Bucky’s question. 

“Just fine, Bucky, just fine.”  

The sounds of revelry start to disappear into the ether of the night the further they cycle from base. The silvery brightness of the bicycle light is occasionally interrupted by red and green flashes from Ken’s flares despite the distance but that, too, eventually disappear the deeper they travel on the small, worn path through the forest of Thorpe Abbotts. 

Wordlessly, they make a right turn into a tiny opening in the trees, off the beaten path, and right into a little alcove of trees surrounding a mist-covered lake - the group’s worst kept secret. The modest body of water has seen its fair share of shenanigans from the Bloody Hundredth. There’s no telling how many zippos and silver buttons were lost in the mud, buried and forming part of the land’s history.

The sharp light of their bicycle dims and finally dies as they get off their bikes, leaving them in the near pitch darkness. Wind blows gently through the leaves and the reeds, disturbing the mist on the lake’s surface.

“Like swan lake.” Bucky’s voice cuts through the silence. He drops his bicycle carelessly to the ground and brushes past Gale to sit right onto the damp grass. He stretches his legs as far as it would go, toes teasing the reeds cropping up at the edge of the lake. “You know - the ballet?”

Gale quirks a smile. He props his bicycle against a tree and grabs Bucky’s from the ground to do the same. “Didn’t know you liked ballets.” 

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Gale.” Gale can hear the smile in Bucky’s voice but he can't find the humor in the situation. He pushes the irrational feeling far, far down his psyche and sits cross-legged beside Bucky. Their knees knock against each other but Bucky pulls away almost at the first brush.

The loss was so sudden and foreign that it took Gale a second to register. Something ugly rears its head and it pushes Gale to chase Bucky’s retreat - he moves stubbornly closer and presses the crest of his knee into the side of Bucky’s thigh.

“Yeah? Like what?” Gale asks, casual as anything. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Bucky squirms at their contact, pretends his heart is not cracking and he’s not sick with anxiety. Somewhere along the way, between his escape and their reunion, Gale Cleven was careless with John Egan and had let him slip between his fingers. 

Bucky shrugs. He unbuttons his jacket and leans back, hands supporting his weight as he casts his eyes to look up at the night sky.

Gale does not hide the way he studies Bucky’s profile, the way he lets his eyes trace the lines and curves of his face, the way he studies the way his curls sway slightly in the cool night air. Gale tilts his body towards Bucky and wills Bucky to look at him, too. 

“Tell me a secret, John.” Gale whispers into the night. His left hand inches through the grass to touch Bucky’s warm thigh. Bucky does not move away and Gale exhales in gratitude. 

“I read Austen.” Bucky answers after a minute of silence.

“I know,” Gale murmurs. 

His hand moves from the ground to rest on Bucky’s knee, fingers splayed casually over the crest and thumb rubbing softly against his uniform. He feels Bucky tense under his hands like he’s seconds from sprinting. 

“Your favorite is Persuasion.” Gale sighs and lifts his hand, posture mirroring Bucky’s now. He tries to make out the constellation through the gaps in the leaves. 

“How did you know?” Bucky’s voice is careful, guarded. “I never said anything.”

“You didn’t have to - you got a battered copy that you hide under your pillow. I tucked it back under a few times when you weren’t careful.” Gale shakes his head in amusement. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, Bucky.”

Gale smiles as he recalls the first time he saw a corner of that paperback peeking from under Bucky’s pillow, years ago in Texas. He didn't know what to make of his roommate back then - the life of a party, a little too attached to his vices, a little too loud and audacious, but -

But kind and considerate, generous with his affections, an admirable leader, thinks so fast on his feet that it gives Gale whiplash on just how fast his plans adapt to the most insane situations. Heart so big it fits all of their boys with room to spare. Heart too big that it makes him vulnerable to so much hurt.

Case in point: he gave Gale his name. 

“What else?” Gale cranes his neck to look at Bucky. Clouds part above them and the light of the stars spills over Bucky’s skin like silver gauze. He still won't look at Gale. 

“I got a favorite quote,” he pauses, his head turned just a fraction to throw a hesitant look at Gale. Pink tongue darts to lick at dry lips and the movement distracts Gale from his eyes. “From - from the book, I mean. You wanna-”

“Of course.” Gale’s quick to answer. “Course’ I do.” 

Bucky’s nervous, Gale realized. His body seems to thrum with it - almost vibrating where he sits beside Gale, but tense at same time. Like before, Gale gets the impression that Bucky is mere seconds from making a run for it, away from Gale and this time, if Gale is not fast enough, he knows that he can never catch Bucky.

Bucky’s fortifying breath reminds Gale of a man facing the gallows. He opens his mouth, and then-

“‘There could have never been two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved’” Bucky’s voice is low, soft as a whisper despite the largeness of breath it took to form the words. Gale knows what follows, intimately. “‘Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.’”

It's Gale’s turn to look away from Bucky. 

“That’s awfully sad,” he clears his throat, eyes blinking rapidly. “I wouldn’t have picked that one as my favorite.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s mine.” Bucky’s voice is faint. “Feels relatable, I guess.” 

Gales doesn't say anything in response. He feels disembodied - like his soul lost its tether to his body and now he’s split into the spirit and the man, one floating above them to observe the slow decay of him and Bucky while the other sits empty on wet grass where vines will eventually grow over the empty vessel like an abandoned cathedral. 

It’s like one of Blakely’s riddles - there is a fork in the road, each one with a goblin to demand different measures of toll, but both come with an inevitable ending that Gale has to live with. The core question, Gale thinks, is whether the road he chooses will converge with the road Bucky chose - or are they destined to run in two parallel lines from this point on. 

Gale licks his lips. 

The wind picks up just enough to cause ripples on the lake’s surface.

Clearing his throat, Gale lets himself fall back gently on the grass, ignoring the way the back of his uniform soaks up the evening dew. He folds his arms behind his head and turns to look up at Bucky who’s watching him with something like fear and bewilderment in his eyes. 

“You wanna hear mine?” He asks, gaze steady. “Was wonderin’ why you liked that book so much, so I read it when they sent you ahead in 43’.” That he read it because he missed Bucky all those weeks of separation goes unsaid. “I got a favorite quote too.” 

He feels the assault of Bucky’s assessing gaze on his skin like pinpricks of thousands of needles. The suspicion and hesitancy bleeds like ink under his skin and Gale knows he will wear the tattoo of Bucky’s distrust all his life as penance. 

Finally, finally, Bucky nods. 

Gale watches him for a few more seconds. He wonders if this will be the last time. He closes his eyes and hopes to preserve Bucky’s image like amber in his mind, in case Bucky never looks at him ever again after this.

“‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever’,” He recites, slow and steady, each word enunciated with care and precision. He tries to soak them with the honey of his emotions, hoping that it will stick. “‘I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.’”

The words ring between them.

When Gale had to bail all those months ago, there was a split second of peace in the midst of the heart stopping chaos. The moment came and was suspended between the time he scrambled out of his seat in the cockpit as the plane was going down, and the time he perched at the mouth of an open hatch, body poised to jump. For that miniscule splice of a second, everything and nothing seemed to matter to Gale. All his worries, his fears, his joys, his love, and all the minutes and seconds he spent alive, the sum of his entire existence ceased to matter and all he had was peace. 

Then he jumped and the world as he knew it crashed with his fort.

This silence from Bucky feels exactly the same. Gale breathes through the borrowed peace and braces for the fall.

“You and Marge talked about the wedding yet?” 

A fork in the road.

“Yeah,” Gale exhales. He tucks away the amber encapsulating his Bucky, this Bucky, deep in the recess of his mind. “Spring wedding - this coming one.” 

Two parallel paths.

“That sounds really nice, Gale.” Bucky stands, his movement languid. He pats the seat of his pants to dislodge dried grass. “You still want me as your best man?” 

This is the bail.

“Always, Major.” Gale watches Bucky from the ground - no longer within Gale’s reach, just like the stars behind him. “Always.”

The world as Gale knew it crashes a second time.

-

(that's the same lake from this drabble, by the way)

[nevermoresart]

WHEWWWW THAT WAS A FUN TON Been a hot minute since I've sat down at my desk and punched myself in the face to make a ref of a character, BUT Y'ALL I DID IT cause I REALLY LOVE HOW THIS CHARACTER CAME OUT FOR SALEM'S, STORY?? UNIVERSE?? IDON'TKNOW

[nevermore-ocs]

oh shit so i can just say that i want Reed to jackhammer this pussy through the mattress whenever i want? cause i want Reed to plow me like his life depends on it those hands are weapons and i wanna feel them on me and in me

I YES YOU INDEED *CAN* WHENEVER YOU SO WISH I CAN'T PROMISE I'LL IMMEDIATELY GET TO IT FOR DOODLES BUT I WILL DO MY BEST

DEF WANNA LOOK MORE INTO THE SUBMISSION ANGLE TOO TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE POSTS SIMILAR TO THAT OF LIKE LEGIT CONFESSION BLOGS IDK JUST YET--

[rhettsgirll]

Ranchers Ballad- Rhett Abbott x Reader

Guys…I wrote two fics in two days,burn out is gonna catch me one day soon and I fear that. 😭

Warnings - Alcohol mention,Maria. (I HATE HER AND IDK WHY),poorly written fanfic in general,ignore typos I swear I tried to proofread 🙏🙏

You softly pick at your banjo before adjusting the amp and repeating the process. You’re in a small bluegrass band from West Virginia. Every summer you chase gigs around the country trying to finally get big. That gig chasing is how you found yourself in a rural pub in Wyoming. The bands truck was having an issue so you all stopped in Wabang to get it fixed,and managed to pick up a gig at the local bar. It’s filled with stenson-wearing,sun burn having,ranchers and farmers. Not what you’re used to seeing really,it’s a bit more like home than the city lights of Seattle or Portland. A fellow member of your band,Fae,chats up a few of the men standing by the stage as she assembles her clarinet. Popping the reed in her mouth as she lets her tongue wind around it,giggling at the men’s jokes. You glance away from her and back down at the ground,she’s always had more luck with guys. Have that be in highschool or after,you were always the recluse and shy one,she was the perfect beach blonde with perfect skin and a stunning smile. Somehow your hair never seemed to lay right,somehow you always managed to have a bit of acne,and you had slightly crooked teeth. You finish tuning your banjo as the bar’s doorbell rings for the upmost time this evening,you glance up and are greeted by a dark blonde,almost brunette,broad shouldered cowboy. The rest of your band files on stage,you sit on a barstool on the back of the stage,a small mic infront of you. You glance at the broad cowboy again,ordering a drink,leaning against the bar. An average sized woman with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes walks up to him and slides into the bar stool next to him. Your small smile drops from your face as you see this,by now the main singer of the group has introduced you all and you begin to softly pick at your banjo,music breaking forth from it.

————————————————

Rhett looks over Maria,staring directly at you. The way the light hits your hair,somehow after months on the road,you still look as fresh as a spring flower. You wear a white cotton dress that goes to your mid thighs with a few Lacey details. You wear worn brown cowboy boots with a thread-bare baby pink ribbon tied to the back tongue of the boots. Rhett is immediately intranced by you and your swift picking of your banjo,the metal fingertip covers are firmly tightened around your up-most knuckle. He sips on his drink,ignoring Maria’s advance to get beneath his buckle “Sorry Maria I’m just…not into that stuff…” Rhett mumbles as Maria traces on his arm. “Cmon….” Maria coos softly. “Maria. No.” Rhett repeats and stands up. He settles into a seat nearer to you,staring an awe as your hands first few songs end. You glance over to your side and catch Rhett’s eye,blood rushes to his ears as you catch eachothers eyes. You turn your attention back to your banjo as your band starts their final song.

—————————————

After the song finishes,you reload your banjo back into its case and stand outside while Fae and the other members go to the local mechanical store to pick up the bands truck while you watch everyone’s instruments and equipment. Suddenly the bar door opens and the tall cowboy steps out,catching your eye than quickly glancing down. “Hi…” he says softly,taking in your features in more detail. “Hey..” you smile back at him,taking in the rugged look he has. He tilts his head as he catches your accent “You’re not from here are you?” He asks. You shake your head and explain you’re from West Virginia. He leans against the doorframe and asks “Why’re you in town?” He asks “What’s so interesting about Wabang?” He asks. You softly fiddle with the handle on Fae’s clarinet case and avoid eye contact “we kinda chase gigs around the US…keep trying to get big…” Rhett smiles softly and was about to speak before your phone begins to ring. It’s Fae. “Fae?” You quip. Fae sighs “our truck ain’t gonna be done till atleast the end of next week…” Your eyes widen “That’s a week and a half!” Your voice shakes. Fae sighs “I know…we’re staying at the motel in town…we got a taxi…try and catch a ride” Faes phone occasionally cuts out,god she needs a new one badddd. You hang up and tilt your head against the cold brick,letting it cool your warm skin. That sends a shock through Rhett,looking at the way your nose shifts as you sigh and the soft whine you let out. “Truck isn’t gonna be ready until the end of next week…” you explain. Rhett looks shocked and furrows his brows “You need a ride?” Rhett asks and you nod as you look at all the equipment. “Cmon.” Rhett says,already grabbing equipment. You watch as he hauls the speakers into the back of his truck,watching his muscles ripple underneath his dark green shirt. You slide your banjo in next to the speakers,standing on the end of the truck bed. Rhett grabs your hips and lifts you off the truck and back onto the concrete. He closes the truck bed door and opens the passenger door,even though you can get up yourself,Rhett picks you up and into the passenger seat. Rhett than closes the door and heads over to the driver side. He offers you his finger,you take it,easily wrapping your entire hand around his pointer finger. “Ready Belle?” Rhett asks,your brows furrow confused. “Belle? That’s not my name” Rhett snorts “Like a southern Belle,hun” The realization hits you as you understand and nod softly. A wave of sleepiness hits you as the AC turns on and the hum of the engine fills the silence. You slowly let yourself fall deeper and deeper into sleep. You end up curled up in the front seat of Rhett’s truck,he tucks his denim jacket to your body to keep you warm as he drives you to the motel,specifically taking the long way just so he can spend more time with you,because being a bull rider and you being a musician,your schedules are unpredictable and there’s a chance he’ll never see you again. And that haunts his conscious.

[breaniebree]

Kismet Characters & Trees Part One:

Patrick Finnigan (1938) MUGGLE m. Maureen O’Connolly (1942) GRYFFINDOR (1965): 1. Kathleen “Katie” Finnigan (1967) GRYFFINDOR m. Jason White (1965) NA(1997): a) Saoirse Kathleen White (4 January 1998) NA  2. Darcy Finnigan (1974) HUFFLEPUFF m. Penelope Clearwater (1976) RAVENCLAW (2008): a) Norah Shay Finnigan (7 September 2005) HUFFLEPUFF— father is Jonathan Pepper (1973) RAVENCLAW — m. Jake Longbottom (7 September 2005) HUFFELPUFF (2030): aa) Deanna Shay Finnigan (31 January 2026) — father is Edward Crabbe (27 September 1997) SLYTHERIN — m.  Jackson Sirius Black (22 October 2026) GRYFFINDOR (2055): i) Norah Edwina Black (2060) HUFFLEPUFF bb) Jude Neville Longbottom (21 June 2033) HUFFLEPUFF cc) Anna Darcy Longbottom (19 April 2036) RAVENCLAW 3. Seamus Finnigan (12 October 1979) GRYFFINDOR bf. Dean Thomas (16 September 1979) GRYFFINDOR

Merrick Thomas (1926) GRYFFINDOR m. River Smith (1935) RAVENCLAW (1958): 1. Sunshine "Sunny" Dusk Thomas (1961) GRYFFINDOR affair with Kellan Jabari Morgan (1947) NA a) Dean Merrick Thomas (16 September 1979) GRYFFINDOR bf. Seamus Finnigan (12 October 1979 (GRYFFINDOR) 2. Meadow Moonlight Thomas (1962) RAVENCLAW (d. 1997)

Neville Longbottom (28 July 1980) GRYFFINDOR m. Hannah Abbott (19 April 1980) HUFFLEPUFF (2002): 1. Jacob “Jake” Franklin Longbottom (21 January 2007) HUFFLEPUFF m. Norah Finnigan (7 September 2005) HUFFLEPUFF (2030): a) Deanna Shay Finnigan (31 January 2026) HUFFLEPUFF — father is Edward Crabbe (27 September 1997)— m. Jackson Sirius Black (22 October 2026) GRYFFINDOR (2055): i) Norah Edwina Black (2060) HUFFLEPUFF b) Jude Neville Longbottom (21 June 2033) HUFFLEPUFF c) Anna Darcy Longbottom (19 April 2036) RAVENCLAW 2. Ava Alice Longbottom (1 July 2008) m. Gideon Weasley (19 August 2004) GRYFFINDOR (2029): a) August “Auggie” Gideon Weasley (5 July 2033) HUFFLEPUFF b) Caleb Neville Weasley (11 June 2035) RAVENCLAW c) Reed Jacob Weasley (15 March 2037) GRYFFINDOR

Thank you to @ellieoryan7447 for taking the time and effort to create these.

[fortunaegloria]

If you vote for another, please reblog by tagging the character's name EXCEPT Jim Halpert.