#she's so important to me you guys just don't get it

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[howlingday]

I freaking love alabastards so much! Its like vol 1 Weiss and Jaune who got tired of taking shit for being too nice!

I so need more!

Would it be too much to ask for Alabastards on winter break or something?

"Hello, Arc."

"Weiss."

"How is your winter break?"

"Good. Yours?"

"My winter break is also going well." Weiss turned away. "Not that you'd know anything about proper grammar anyways."

"Oh, really? Is that because I'm too poor to talk good, or is it because you're so bad at being a good person you have to make up for it?"

"Bite me, Arc."

"Make me, Schnee."

The two sneered at each other until they noticed they were getting looks from their teams. Reeling back, the two parted. How and why the two were always found at odds, no one was truly certain. Maybe one had said something to offend the other, or perhaps there was a meeting they had before Beacon that soured their relationship long before it could begin? It was difficult to say.

Regardless, today was Non-Descript Winter Holiday and the two had promised to bury the hatchet, if only for the day. Weiss had bought gifts for each of her friends on Team JNPR, and Jaune, while Jaune used his skills to craft personal gifts for his friends on Team RWBY, and Weiss. As the two sat down with their friends, gifts were exchanged between each of them.

Weiss gifted Pyrrha jacket with a liner, both skillfully embroidered with her name. Nora got a quirky device that allowed her poor syrup through a glass tube onto her pancakes, like some kind of breakfast alchemist. Ren received a new apron to wear should his other need to be washed, this one featuring the words "I'm Not On The Menu". Jaune didn't open his gift.

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a cheap gag gift in here to spite me."

"Do you really think so low of me?"

"Do you?"

"...Fine. Then I refuse to open mine."

"Fine by me."

The rest of the party sighed, choosing to move on to other gifts. Jaune's gifts were hand-crafted with love... or friendship, if love was too much of a stretch. Yang got a bag for her boxing gloves that had "Chorld Wamp" stitched into them, making her giggle. Blake was given a couple sheets of paper with personal poems written front and back, some in haiku. Ruby got a coffee mug cozy, yarned and darned with black and red. Weiss, much like Jaune, refused to open hers.

"I don't care."

"Neither do I."

"I'll just open mine later."

"Or never." She scowled at her gift in disgust. "Knowing you, you probably put something disgusting in here, like a photo of yourself."

"Ha ha." Jaune groaned, standing up. "I'm going to call it a night."

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings by not opening your shitty gift?"

"No, I'm just tired. Not everything is about you, Weiss." Before Weiss could retort, Jaune had already left out of the room, gift in hand.

"Weiss, that was really mean." Ruby whined.

"Very mean." Pyrrha added. "You were both supposed to not be hostile this evening."

"Why am I the bad guy?" Weiss gestured to where her foe made his exit. "He was ruder than I ever was!"

"You were both rude." Yang answered, pointing a finger at the heiress. "You both promised to play nice during winter break, and you both broke that promise on the most important day of the entire break. You ruined it for everyone."

"I did not ruin Non-Decript Winter Holiday." Weiss rolled her eyes. "He ruined it."

"I'm gonna hit her." Nora said.

"Please don't." Ren replied.

"The least you could do is open his gift." Blake offered.

"It it'll make you guys feel better, then fine!" Weiss opened her present. "But do you really think anything he got me will make me say... Oh my god..."

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

Jaune held his present in his hand, fully unwrapped and, begrudgingly, impressed. Inside the box was a camera. High quality, too. He fiddled with the buttons, the zoom, the lighting, the timer. Everything was so smooth and easy to play with. He didn't want to admit, but this was probably the best gift he'd ever.

"Jaune, open up." Jaune looked up to the knocking at his door. Opening it, he found Weiss holding his gift to her. "What the hell is this?"

"Your present." Jaune answered, making Weiss scowl.

"You know what I meant." She shoved past him and set the binder on his desk, pushing the gift box to the side. The binder was pure white and decorated with a single sticker of Beacon Tower, something purchased in the school store as a memento. Opening the binder and flipping through the pages, each of which were decorated with printed photos from Jaune's scroll. "You have every single person we've known in this binder."

"Yeah?" Jaune said with a raised brow. "That's how photo albums work, don't they?"

"Everyone we've known EXCEPT for the two of us! Why?"

Jaune blinked, looking at her like she'd suddenly turned into a creature of Grimm. "Because you hate me?"

"I don't- I never-" She groaned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I hate you."

"No," Jaune agreed, "but you insulting me at every turn and being an overall bitch to me does."

"Only because you're an asshole to me." Weiss growled before sighing. "Look. Here's what's going to happen. We are going to fix this. You are going to take a picture of us and put it in this binder."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to kick your ass before the others do."

"The others?" Jaune blinked. "Why are they going to kick my ass?"

"Because they think we ruined the winter break for them."

Jaune was quiet for a moment. "I mean, we did."

"Yes, we did, and exactly the point. So take that fancy camera I got you and take my pic-" CLICK! Weiss blinked a couple of times as her vision was still blurred from the sudden flash. "Argh! You asshole!"

"What? I took your picture." Jaune showed off the photo on his camera with a shit-eating grin. "See?"

"Delete that." Weiss ordered.

"No." Jaune refused without dropping his smile.

Weiss opened her mouth to say something, then heaved a sigh. "Fine. Just... don't do anything weird with it. That's all I ask."

"Okay?" Jaune looked to his camera and pressed a button. "There, I deleted it."

"Oh." Weiss then watched Jaune turn on the light and pulled the chair to the center of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up the shot." Jaune said off-handedly. "You want our picture taken, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, except yours in this chair." Jaune chuckled.

"Ugh, you're worse than Xiao Long." She seated herself in the chair.

"I doubt it." Jaune lifted and lowered the camera repeatedly while crouched next to the desk before he grabbed a textbook and set the camera on top of it. "Okay..." He ran up to Weiss, taking place behind her. "Smile."

"Why?"

"It's your picture."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yeah."

"Bull."

"I am."

"...Fine." Weiss smiled and the camera flashed as she did. Jaune ran up to the camera and looked it over. He grinned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just look really good in this."

"Let me see." Weiss looked at the photo and immediately frowned. "You made a stupid face."

"I was smiling."

"You were making a stupid face while smiling."

"Well, do you want to take another one?"

Weiss thought for a moment, then nodded. "No stupid pictures this time."

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

Weiss opened her photo album, much time had passed since she'd opened it. Many more memories were captured in time and held in place right there inside her book. Her favorite page was the one with all of her favorite photos. The ones filled with her making goofy faces with her husband, Jaune Arc.

Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday

[solardriftx]

Damon and Diana, Snake and Chameleon

in the context of chapter 1 i wanted to expand on some of the animal symbolism, particularly damon's symbol of a snake and diana's of a chameleon. buckle up yall!

while the biblical snake symbolism is obvious, i think lots of meaning can be derived from real world knowledge--in particular, the familiar image of a snake shedding its skin. snakes enter periods of heightened aggression when molting due to the sensitivity of their new skin, and i think this will be reflected by damon becoming much worse in the name of defending himself before he changes for the better. his initial distrustful mindset was proven right, the second he even *began* to trust someone it blew up in his face. while he was crying for a moment in the face of eva's death, this sorrow was quickly overrun by frustration and anger, particularly at diana's words.

additionally, while i'm not sure if exact genus/species of certain animals were intended or will become important to interpretation, i'd like to draw a connection between damon's snake symbol and a certain genus. from the green color and his american origins, i think he can be connected to opheodrys, a common genus of green snake from north america coming in two species of rough or smooth variety. these snakes are not commonly kept as pets due to their standoffish and defensive nature around humans, making them prone to biting. despite this, they're non-venomous and generally harmless. damon makes it clear when confronted that he does not intend to harm anyone. in fact, his monologues show he thinks much more about how he would respond if someone were to attack *him* instead, noting the physical advantage some of his classmates have (rough/smooth green snakes are very small). we can even tie these traits of non-venom back to the prologue trial, where he appeared very hostile despite genuinely thinking he was helping. and of course, a connection can also be made to damon's general personality of being outwardly cold when deep down he's just... a guy who gets easily embarrassed.

now onto diana! first off i was surprised she actually mentioned her animal and how it relates to her, i thought the motifs were going to be more of an unspoken thing. makes me wonder if any other characters will mention their animals. anyway, fun fact! chameleons don't change color to camouflage, they do it for thermoregulation and social signaling. for diana, i'm more concerned with social signaling, as chameleons can change into very bold displays of colors to communicate dominance, as paralleled by diana's bold display at the end of the first trial with the intention of rallying the others behind her. this could be a stretch, but diana's darker/bold color pallet could be a reference to the potential spectrum of colors that a chameleon would display under stress.

i find it funny though, that while diana says that she will adapt like a chameleon, keeping chameleons in captivity is notoriously hard due to their highly specific environmental requirements- be it temperature, humidity, or lighting, they're easy to accidentally kill. diana may claim with a brave face that she has the strength to fight this killing game no matter the struggle, yet someone with the stress sensitivity of a chameleon in a situation like this is doomed to buckle.

anyway...can you tell they're my two favorite characters. antag diana im so ready for you if you're real

[sequinsmile-x]

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Eve with the Hotchners.

-x-

Hi besties,

One last bit of Christmas fluff for you lovely lot this year. This really is just pure, family fluff and our favs having a typical Christmas eve with their family.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy mid-week to those who don't. I hope you have a wonderful couple of days no matter what you do and what you celebrate <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Malls had freaked her out ever since the case with Katie Jacobs. Especially when she was in one with her children, the memory of all the places a little kid could hide, or be hidden, making a shiver run down her spine every time she thought about it. It didn’t help that Aaron wasn’t here with them, that she was on her own and thinking of every terrible thing that could happen to Jack, Hazel and Oliver, but he was on his way. 

The jet had landed back in DC all of 45 minutes ago, and he’d called and told her he’d come and meet her at the mall. He’d sounded tired, worn down by whatever horrors he and the team had seen when they were away. She told him they could just meet him at home, that he didn’t need to come and wait in line with her so the kids could meet some random guy dressed as Santa, but he’d insisted. 

This kind of thing, the achingly normal parts of being a parent and part of a family, were as important to him as they were to her. The extraordinary ordinariness of it all made her emotional sometimes. Love and joy filling the space in her chest that she thinks must have always been waiting for them. Waiting for the man she loves and his son who would one day be hers, and the little girl and boy who would follow.  It was beautiful and hers and everything she never thought she’d get. 

Which is exactly why even though her feet hurt from standing in line for so long on Christmas Eve, and her back hurt from holding Oliver on her hip since she’d lifted him out of the car, she was able to find the joy in waiting in line at the mall for her kids to see Santa. 

Oliver grumbles in Emily’s arms and rubs his face against her neck. She hums and turns to kiss the 10-month-old’s forehead, “I know sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “It’s almost nap time, huh?” 

Hazel turns to look at her, her hand still wrapped up in Jack’s where they were standing barely a foot in front of her, “Mommy, I’m bored.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, Emily smiles at the absolute weariness in her four-year-old’s voice and she adjusts her hold on Oliver, so she can run fingers through the little girl’s dark hair as she looks at the line ahead of them and slightly too enthusiastic elves at the front, “But it’s almost our turn.” 

“Santa has a lot of people to talk to,” Jack says, winking at Emily before he turns his attention to his little sister, “It’s only fair everyone gets to talk to him.” 

One evening, back in November, Jack had announced to his parents that he knew Santa wasn’t real. He’d delighted in being in on the secret as much as they’d been sad that he was, a strange mix of sadness spreading through them at the thought of their eldest growing up and pride because of the person he was becoming.

“Exactly,” Emily says, smiling at Jack, “It’s Christmas Eve,” she enthuses, looking back at her little girl, “He’s a busy guy.” 

“Emily!”

She turns at the sound of her husband’s voice and feels herself relax the moment she sees him walking towards them. She leans in to kiss him the moment he’s close enough, her lips stamped against his, “Speaking of busy guys.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

She can hear the weariness in his voice, the tiredness brought on by the job they once shared and coming so close to missing Christmas. She’d left the BAU when she had Hazel, something she had never regretted for a second, and she now led the Counterterrorism unit. She’d sent her team early and had her work phone tucked into her pocket in case of an emergency, but it was important to spend Christmas with her kids - especially when they were so young - because her parents had never really spent it with her. It was why she loved Christmas so much, because she saw it through the eyes of her children, the magic of it stronger than it had ever been as she watched them enjoy it too. 

Hazel throws herself at Aaron, excited to see her father after a few days apart, her apparent boredom now forgotten, “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess,” he says, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek before he settles her onto his hip, “Are you excited to see Santa?” 

She nods, “He’s very busy but it’s almost our turn.” 

He smiles and ruffles Jack’s hair, his smile getting wider when he tries to doge his father’s affection, “Hi buddy.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” 

Aaron then leans in to kiss Oliver’s forehead, “Hi Ollie,” he furrows his brow when Oliver grumbles and leans in closer to Emily, his tiny hand tangled up in her necklace. Aaron looks up at Emily, “Is he okay?” 

She nods and rubs a circle on Oliver’s back, “He’s okay, he’s just tired.” 

“The next family can come forward.”

Emily smiles at the elf in front of them and nods her thanks before she looks at the kids, with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes, “Come on, let's go meet Santa.” 

Hazel goes first. She sits on his lap and tells him what she wants - a princess castle which was currently in the home office waiting to be built - and then smiles for her photo. Jack does the same, a knowing look in his eyes as he goes through the motions for the sake of his parents and his sister. 

As Emily expected, the moment she puts Oliver down on Santa’s lap he bursts into tears. He stays there long enough for a picture, something that makes Emily feel a little bad because of just how much it amuses her. She picks him back up again, shushing him as she tries to soothe him, her lips against his temple as she whispers words of comfort in English and French. 

“Why did Ollie cry?” Hazel asks, one hand in Aaron’s and the other in Jack’s as they walk back to the car, “It’s just Santa.” 

“You cried when you first met him too,” Jack says, his smile getting wide when Hazel furrows her brow.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You did, princess,” Aaron says, smiling as he meets his wife’s eyes, the memory of their little girl, who had only been 6 months old at the time, and the way she’d burst into tears just like Oliver had.

“But I love Santa,” she says, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Now you do, sweet girl,” Emily replies, “But you were very little. Even littler than Ollie,” she turns to Aaron, sighing when she sees him dig through his pockets for his car keys, wishing more than anything they were driving home together, “See you at home?” 

He nods, “I’ll grab dinner on the way back.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve been at work all day,” she says, “I can-”

“You’ve got all the kids with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “It’s easier if I go.” 

She smiles and nods, stamping her lips against his, “Okay, see you at home.” 

___

She sneaks out of Oliver’s room, making sure she’s careful as she pulls the door closed behind her, sighing in relief for managing to get all the kids to sleep, something that was no mean feat on any day let alone Christmas Eve. 

She yawns as she walks down the hallway, seeking out her husband and the rare and precious alone time she wants with him. She walks downstairs and smiles as she comes to a stop outside of the home office when she hears a muttered curse through the door. She knocks and then steps inside, her smile only getting wider when she finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of the princess castle they’d bought for Hazel. Most of it is still in pieces, with only the base built, and Aaron’s hair is all over the place from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. 

“How is going in here?” She asks, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement when he looks up at her, more frustration written across his face than she’d seen in a long time. 

“Did you know that this thing needs three different types of batteries?” He asks, shaking his head as he looks at the instructions again, “Why does anything need three different types of batteries?” 

She sits on the ground next to him, “Do you want any help?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs the instructions from the floor in between them, “I can do it. You wrapped all the other gifts, I can build this.” 

She finds herself trying to suppress a smile again, her love for him and his love for their children thrumming under her skin. He was tired. Weary in a way that seemed bone deep, and he was insistent on building one of their daughter’s Christmas presents so she didn’t have to wait for him to do it tomorrow. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pressing her fingers into the muscles she knew ached the most.

“That’s because I enjoy wrapping presents, honey,” she says, smiling at him, stamping another kiss against his chest, “No one likes to build these things.” 

He hums and hands her the instructions, “You can see if you can make any sense of this if you’d like?”

She takes the piece of paper and immediately frowns at it, the instructions and the accompanying diagrams making no sense at all. She turns it over and tries to read them on the other side, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, honey, they don’t make sense in French or Italian either.” 

They end up working on it together, figuring it out mostly through trial and error as they slowly but surely build the castle they know will delight their little girl in the morning. When it’s eventually done, Aaron switches on all the lights and smiles in delight and relief when it works. 

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, sitting back to admire his work and blowing out a slow breath, “I was very close to telling Hazel that Santa was all out of princess castles.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chuckles and leans in to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his as she cups his cheek, “You’d have stayed up until the morning if you needed to. Because you’re the best dad in the whole world.” 

He hums and kisses her, “And you’re the best mom.”

She smiles so widely that her cheeks ache and she once again wonders how this was her life, how she’d got so lucky to have him here with her with their children all safely tucked in their beds upstairs. She thinks of the Christmases she’d spent alone, how she had ached for a life where she’d stay up all night to build a present for her kid just to see their smile in the morning. 

“Our kids are lucky to have us,” she quips and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. 

His watch beeps as he pulls, indicating that it was midnight, and he smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her nose knocking against his as she replies, “Merry Christmas, baby,” she kisses him again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.” 

She kisses him, her hand tangled in his hair as she holds him in place before she rests her cheek against his chest, curling herself up against him as she sighs contentedly. She turns her head to look at the princess castle, her eyebrows furrowing as she finally takes in the size of it. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yes, Em?” 

“How the hell are we going to move the castle to the living room?” 

He tightens his hold on her for a second, and she feels more than hears his resigned sigh as it passes from his chest to hers. 

“Well shit.” 

[cynicalclairvoyantcadaver]

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ

Hi-this is a call for help.

It's not urgent, but it's very important and serious to me.

Listen-I'm writing a literal essay on how the Greek Gods are incorrectly portrayed, and I want to do sections on Zeus, Hera and Dionysus.

So, this started off as a short post on the bold yin yang of PJO, but it quickly blew up into a whole ass essay on the bastardisation of Greek culture and gods. And holy hell, I'm enjoying writing it. I freaking love it, but-

While Rick Riordan's portrayals of the gods aren't totally incorrect, something about their portrayals has been seriously nagging me for months now. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's just on the tip of my tongue-

but I don't think that Rick portrayed them all correctly, and I want to write sections for them too.

So, can all of you-Greeks, Hellenistic Pagans and other people like me who are neither of the first two but are still interested in the Real Greek Gods-can all of you tell me where PJO Dionysus, PJO Zeus and PJO Hera went wrong?

More specifically, how Real Hera, Real Zeus and Real Dionysus are, and how their PJO versions differ from them.

Because I'm doing my research, but I can't always trust the internet and I really want to hear about Dionysus and Zeus and how they were incorrectly portrayed in PJO from real people themselves.

I mean, Zeus is portrayed as paranoid and abusive and while he wasn't the best guy in the Mythology, he was a great father and husband at times-as well as a great guy.

But in PJO, he was barely shown as a good father or a husband, only twice with Thalia because she was his daughter, and we all know how abusive he was to Jason and Apollo. And he's barely given any nuance-as well as Hera. They're both portrayed to be in an abusive marriage, but both Hera and Zeus really love each other.

I kind of also want to do a section on PJO Hera, because I just KNOW that Rick went wrong with her, even if I can't fully explain Zeus and Dionysus.

So, TLDR, I'm writing an essay on how Rick incorrectly portrayed the Greek Gods and want to do sections on Zeus, Dionysus and Hera, could you please help me and tell me more about the real gods and maybe how Rick went wrong with them?

Thanks to everyone who contributes to this! Even a simple like will suffice. I will also respond to every comment, and feel free to tag anyone whom you think might help.

In fact, if you want to complain about ANYTHING wrong in the PJO series, send me an ask and I'll try to include it in my essay. And I don't get very many asks, so I'll be sure to respond to all of them.

I don't mean to be rude, and if you think I am, then please tell me and I'll change what I need to.

@elytrianemrald I know you're looking forward to this essay, I'm working on it every day and getting closer to finishing it

@lady-menrva I know this might not be your thing, but I think you might know some people who could help me

@my-pjo-stuff you mentioned Artemis being your patron goddess, soooooooo you might know something about the other gods too? And if you don't, maybe you know someone who can help?

If you want to be tagged, tell me and I will tag you

[echologname]

In support of Sam x Danny

We never got to see what the relationship of the Phantom trio was like before the portal accident but I think it's mostly similar to how we see them in the show. To me, it seems like it's implied that Sam always secretly liked Danny and then one fateful day, she and Tucker witnessed him almost die, don't you think after something traumatic like that, it's harder to keep feelings for another inside? Also, after Danny got his powers and started fighting ghosts, Sam got to witness his bravery and willingness to help people put to extreme tests. She didn't fall in love with him because of cool powers, she genuinely fell in love with who he is. His new life as a halfa, like all trials in life, helped him to become a better person, throughout their adventures virtues were strengthened and vices were weakened and their friendship was matured through its testing. I don't see it but it's a common claim that Sam only started crushing on Danny AFTER he got his powers which paints her in a shallow view. So, I'd like to point out correlation does not necessarily equal causation. Clearly Danny went through big changes from the accident but I betcha Sam and Tucker weren't quite the same themselves and if one of them being a more prominent openness to showing affection then there's nothing wrong with that.

Whether friends or lovers, I think both work but I just wanted to say, Sam doesn't deserve the hate she gets from fans for canonically being the one to end up with Danny in the end. And who's to say it's a forever thing? Teens are constantly growing and changing and so are their romantic interests. It's OK to think you work together at one point and not so much the next. Their identities are still developing and so are their brains. And if they do stay together forever, no matter what happens, then isn't that all the more sweet and wholesome? Even if Sam had an inkling of ghostly bias towards liking him, it's totally the green eyes given how much she likes plants and nature (ironically green is the color of life and health).

The whole episode with Sam falling for the fake foreign exchange guy who looks a lot like Danny's ghost form doesn't help her case. I get it, because of an example like this, fans fear she likes Phantom more than Fenton. But his whole persona WAS all an act for the purpose of targeting what a specific girl likes like telling Sam he was a vegetarian then acted like a jock in front of cheerleaders. Or maybe this is what she needed, to see that like Danny, this guy also had an alter ego but he was using it deceptively for personal gain. Meeting Danny PHANTOM for the first time might have felt like meeting a new person to her, so a stranger from another country symbolizes that. Then the truth about him being a jerk comes out when he metaphorically, "drops his mask." Sam knows both sides of Danny and knows that he isn't like that guy at all, and she's seen for herself that he's still himself no matter what he looks like. He genuinely wants to help people and doesn't put on an act. Perhaps this failed relationship helped her realize how much Danny cares for her both as Fenton AND Phantom and that he's always been a good friend she can trust (he DID spy on her in the episode and of course Sam was offended but it didn't really hurt their relationship).

Disagreeing with them being together is still understandable but c'mon, how many relationships were you in that was also a cringe pairing? Relationships aren't perfect but the people that we were/are with have helped us understand ourselves and each other more. The person you're with now may be who you need to be with for a certain period of your life to help prepare you for the one you'll be with forever. It's important for even awkward and rash relationships to take their course so we can grow from them.

So, I think we can find it in our hearts to be more forgiving to some cartoon kids. Sam and Danny's relationship is an important part of their character development no matter how it turns out or how much the ship is hated.

[overnightheartbeats]

"Maybe so, but either way, I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize that love. I have fucked up enough." Eli's eye roll amused him, he was right. He had been a bit difficult to impress, easier to casually hook up than enter a relationship with anyone. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but that's true. She challenged everything about me. Took a while to make sense of it, I mean I haven't had a genuine crush like that in years." Perhaps not wince Whitney in high school.

Isaac listened to him nodding reluctantly. He could understand what he meant now. The hard work that relationships took, something that he wasn't particularly looking forward to, but he could admit that he would happily endure for her. "Don't sell this idea of relationships too much," he joked before nodding solemnly. "I do believe that though. Relationships having the days of storms and rain. We're missing the relationship part, Nettie and I, but we are familiar with those storms and I'm still all in. That's a good sign for me." If not worth it, Isa would've run to the other side of the world by now. Isaac had to laugh at that statement, something he had begrudgingly witnessed once upon a time. "Not a bad trait, just an annoying one if you're on the opposite end of it." He pointed out with a small smile, following his gaze to the group. Caught up in conversation that they didn't even notice they were looking their way. "So, good luck if your baby inherits that too."

A warm smile formed on his lips in response. Isaac did believe that. Eli not putting in so much effort to help him otherwise, he had noticed it with their disdain for Jazz. An accurate disdain, as it turned out. "That, I do believe. You wouldn't help me this much otherwise. And it turns out, I need all the help in the world too."

"Okay, yes yes I'll do it. Blue shirt and cologne. And the smile too? Any other requests Mr. Matchmaker?" He was teasing, of course. The tips and tricks were sorely needed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me out of your house asap. Okay, promise no frown lines, but I'll talk to her. I have apologized, but I don't know, it's not enough. I know there's more work to do. I'm just hoping we can start over." A laugh escaped him at his observations, shaking his head. "I am more motivated now, can you blame me? I have been missing her, but I also wouldn't want us to be late to this super important shopping trip."

After receiving their order, Isaac walked back to meet his sisters, handing the funnel cake order to Emma before putting his arms around both of them. "So, did you guys get the dinner plans?" His smile was wide, showing that he was okay and everything was okay between the brothers.

Eli shot him a look as if to say yes he was but he digressed. "Seriously nothing will make me love you any less." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Because you're too hard to impress. Nettie was the only one who challenged your mind not just your body. Turns out you started trying to impress her even before you realized you liked her."

He blew out air and shook his head. "Not without a lot of hardwork. Relationships aren't easy even if you're with your match. Not always sunshine and rainbows but if you're willing to take the storms and rain and know when to humble yourself. Then it'll be one of the best things you'll ever do and get to experience." Laurel never giving up was a little too accurate. "Yeah, she never does quit. Not in her DNA." As he said that he looked over to see his wife and sisters talking and smiled. He couldn't believe they were about to take this journey into parenthood together.

He patted his back and kept an arm around him. "You're meant for her. If I didn't truly believe that then I wouldn't try so hard to help you." He gave him a look and laughed. "Firefighter, remember."

"Anything to move you from mopey, wear the blue shirt. Put on that cologne you haven't worn since you moved into our house and bring that million dollar smile. No frown lines. You've got an hill to walk up to get to your happiness. She may not forgive you right away but show her you're ready and willing to put in the work. You're not the boy she saw mess up. Oh now you're ready to get home. Maybe shouldn't have told you!"

[unwillingtoreachout]

once again thinking about my ex-raven Neil au and 36 year old Neil meeting Ichirou's 15 year old daughter at a fan event

[luna-loveboop]

I want. Four to get appreciation. Because

Four gave a ton of unnoticed help when Twilight was injured

The fight with Wild was difficult, and I know we're all concerned about his negative view of the shadow crystal

But Four did something that no one else really thought of to help- He took care of Twi's stuff

From the beginning he told Twilight to not worry about them

So Four took care of pretty much everything but the others (that Sky and Wars handled)

He took care of Epona

Which is so very important- he took care of Twilight's horse. After her arrival at the stable Four followed up on her

And for Epona, a horse so attached to her human, having some company can help so much for reassurance

He took care of Twilight's stuff

He got Twi's shield- his bags and equipment, and organized it into one place

And he was worried. He obviously found the shadow crystal while handling Twi's stuff, but his negative reactions to it were out of concern.

Also- because of his placement in this scene

I'm fairly convinced Four was ready to start cooking before Wild showed up (since he's beside the counter with food supplies). At the very least he had the basket of fruit out for everyone -but he was literally standing with food behind him- he thought of everything

And he did housekeeping!

Wars payed for the inn, so Four took care of the inn

Realistically these boys were probably not too concerned with tidyness. Four got all of Twi's things on one table, and took care of the room they stayed in

Organizing tables and Twi's things, having food supplies ready, and opening the curtains- overall he was the one tidying up the inn

Four helped in a huge way! He took care of Twi's horse (Epona is so important), his equipment and shield and bag, as well as the other rooms in the inn

Four filled in all the little tasks that others didn't think of. He helped in ways that were needed, but not obvious

There's a lot of problems with the shadow crystal and with Wild, and I don't know what's gonna happen in the future

But don't forget this- don't forget that Four was one who stepped up in an almost unnoticeable way

Don't forget that when everyone was barely holding it together, Four visited Twilight's horse and took care of his things

No matter what develops in the future- this amount of care shown is important ya know?

.

Art and comic from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)))

[separatist-apologist]

Feyre: Rhysand is my mate and I'm telling you this to your face.

Also Feyre: If you try and break my mating bond, I'm going to ruin your life.

Also Feyre: If you drag me back to Spring against my will, I'll destroy everything you love.

Tamlin: Break her mating bond so I can drag her back to Spring and we can start over.

Also Tamlin: I can't believe you destroyed everything I love and ruined my life!

[beef-brisket]

Angel smiled: I'll style it, and every sinner and demon will be looking at you, but there's only one that really matters~.

Adam scoffs: I can get attention very easily... I just don't know why he's suddenly interested.

Angel: "Suddenly"? Babe. He's been interested since you got here.

Adam: Don't be offended if I tell you you're full of shit.

Adam folds his arms as Angel starts brushing his hair.

Angel: I'm very offended. The fuck went on with you two anyway? I know the whole wife thing, but I think it's more than that.

Adam: Don't know what you're talking about...

Angel: Now you're the one full of shit. I can read people, Adam. And as much as you claim to hate the short, red, and spicy king, I have a feeling that's more of a shield than anything.

Adam scoffed: A shield? Seriously? No. There's no fucking shield. I'm not a pussy, I don't need shielding.

Angel: That's what every traumatized dilf says. News flash, big guy, you're in Hell. Not Heaven. There's not of that "men don't show feelings" bullshit. We're all human, we all feel. Even the big bad exorcist.

Adam: ...It doesn't matter. Not now. Honestly, I don't think it ever did matter...

Angel: And what's this "did"?

Adam: I don't know. Shit.

Angel: I think "did" is you.

Adam: I'm not "did". "Did" is a fucking loser... I'm not a loser.

Angel pulled out the curling iron and started heating it up.

Angel: "Did" had a big role to play, right? Seemed to be a bigger role than everyone else's. Maybe "did" was forced to push their feelings down to keep others happy. To keep others comfortable. Maybe "did" was told they didn't matter, maybe "did" was told to protect his wife from his best friend, maybe "did" was being pressured by Heaven to be the big strong protector, when there was nothing to protect anyone from.

Adam stayed silent, even when Angel started curling his hair.

Angel: Heaven put a lot of pressure on "did." Making "did" feel like they didn't matter because when they failed, they were punished more servery than the ones that actually did wrong. They let Lilith off easy, didn't they. They let Lucifer off even easier. He's a fucking king. Eve, well. I have a feeling that once she became self-aware, she wasn't too keen on Heaven's whole plan, right?

Angel was silent for a minute or so before continuing.

Angel: I think "did" is Adam. And I think Adam didn't deserve any of this. I think you were doomed front the start, babe.

Adam could feel tears pool in his eyes, but he tried to hold them off as Angel crouched in front of him, amd put his hands on his knees.

Angel: Babe. You hate so much about yourself. You're not an asshole or a bastard. You're pushing people away before they get too close. You don't want to get hurt again. But I think-.

Adam looks at Angel as he cups his face, and give him the warmest smile.

Angel: I think Adam deserves love. And another chance. We all want to know the real Adam. The Adam that's behind the shield. And, think of your hair as the first step to that. A small step for others, but a massive step for you. And that's so important, Adam. So important.

Adam wiped his eyes: N-No one's loved me for thousands of years... h-he's playing me, Angel. He's probably j-just going to humiliate me, like she did...

Angel stood and pulled Adam into a hug, using all three sets of his arms. His lower set rubbed his back while his middle set held him firmly, his top set ran their fingers through his warm, golden hair.

Angel: You've been fucked over so many times, and you've held onto that pain. Loves... amazing, babe. Being in that garden, being made along with two others who are learning at the same time as you, having them be named your wife, isn't love. You were new, you all were. That wasn't love, Adam. Not saying you'll ever love Lucifer, fuck, you don't even have to forgive him. Hold onto that anger and hate all you want, but I swear, you be so much happier without it. You'll be freer without it. And you'll ve giving one of the most important people in your past, another chance. And Adam?

Angel pulls away so Adam can look up at him. His heart breaks at how defeated and tired Adam looks.

Angel: If he fucks this up. Then that's his fucking loss. And if you ever want out of this place, I know you can make a name for yourself. You're fucking amazing. You don't need anyone to be you. You just need to give you a shot.

Adam nods and blushes as Angel pulls him into another hug.

Angel: Besides. I'd happily kick his ass for you~.

Blonde!Adam au!

It's stupid and I love it.

After dying and waking up again in Hell, Adam's demon form is how he looked in Eden. Exactly.

Blonde hair and all.

Before Adam went to the hotel, he was able to fine (steal) himself some clothes, so he made sure to have a hoodie on so no one would see his hair.

The only times he'd take it off is when he's in his room. He's craving that hair dye, but he's too shit scared to leave his room, let alone the hotel (he doesn't know that part of his punishment is that hair dye doesn't work on him 🤷))

So far, his hoodie has been working fine until one morning when Adam is sick and is late for one of his sessions, and Lucifer teleports into his room.

Lucifer: I'm sick of you doing nothing! I allowed you here because you're meant to be working your ass off towards redemption! Now, get up! The sooner you do that, the sooner you can get out of my realm-!

Lucifer pulls back the covers. If Adam didn't feel like shit, he would have fought back.

Lucifer stares at Adam. He completely forgot that blonde was his natural colour.

He touches a strand, making Adam groan and try to smack Lucifer's hand away.

Lucifer: ...And they say my hair is like gold...

So everything is the same but Adam is just blonde as a sinner? If hair dye didn't work he would get a wig lmao

Adams laying there feeling like shit and Lucifer is just touching his hair lol 😆

[front-facing-pokemon]

[4ddi3addie2005]

Before I went to bed I saw the Youtube notif that TADC was going to Netflix and it INVADED my dreams so vividly I have not had such an episodic sequential serialized cohesive dream in months it was literally its own chapter its own short story

[mel-loly]

-“Just a flower, in the middle of the field at night, a light is turned on and reveals.. A day arriving with confident hope and silent happiness!”🌹🐝

[wickedhawtwexler]

another karaoke post: the number one thing i'm angry about right now is the fact that ms. love shack (my karaoke pal who always sings love shack with bartender bestie) hasn't been to thursday night karaoke since SEPTEMBER????? and according to one of her coworkers (who comes to thursday night karaoke also and who i'm pals with also) says it's because her new boyfriend (who she started dating not long after i started dating my boyfriend) hates karaoke??? like bitch leave him at home and come alone????????