#sometimes i feel really lonely here & it's totally fine too because talking to myself & three people who like my posts is also cool but

[pardonmydelays]

how was it to be a part of FLS fans meeting online & what are your fave moments from the show? ✨

i didn't expect this question at all but i'm so glad you asked! 😭

honestly, i had such a great time! i was super stressed at first because it was on zoom & i don't even know how this app works, but i figured it out somehow. no idea how many of us were there, but everyone was so so nice! some people were even brave enough to show their faces, it was so cool to see them just vibing. i, on the other hand, was brave enough to write a few words on chat (i still feel super anxious about showing myself on the internet & about my stupid polish accent when i speak english lol but maybe one day??? who knows. there's gonna be another meeting, probably in the summer, so we will see).

so we only watched first three episodes of the show, we were kinda insane about it on chat (some people were never able to see the show before so it was cool to see their reactions & it comes from someone who saw every single episode at least five times...), & there was a little conversation between each episode but also when we finished watching. i always feel like a lone wolf of this fandom, i never really interacted with other fans, especially when i joined the fandom last year & it was basically just me talking to myself on tumblr lol. but it was a nice change & i'm so glad i could be a part of it because everyone here is so sweet & we all have one thing in common - we all love lin so so so much. honestly it's kinda like slowly leaving my comfort zone, but i had such a great time i would do it again. i really want to interact with other fans. this is why creating instagram account was a good idea, most of them are active there, not here.

my fave moments from the show? hmm, let's think. we only saw three episodes so i'm gonna talk about those. so my favourite ep is "what makes a hombre" because it's lin-centered, so of course. there's also a lot of tobi there & she's the cutest little creature. the entire episode is super funny. as for the others, pilot is amazing - prom, lin in a beanie, utk with go pro, LADIES & GENTLEMEN WE WANNA THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING OUT THIS EVENING, also lin's outfit is one big slay in this one, then the entire totto ramen episode will never not be funny to me ("that TOTTOlly sucks!") & i could go on & on, i just love this show so much i will never shut up about it & sorry for this essay.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 1. tags: dubcon

-

You duck behind a stack of boxes when you hear Johnny come whistling into the warehouse.

He shouts your name out somewhere off on the other side of the warehouse, voice echoing through the building. You keep absolutely still, fingers clamped around the clipboard that’s pressed close to your chest. Even your breathing slows, open-mouthed so as to keep it almost soundless. It’s strategic. You’ve gotten good at making yourself invisible back here, practically melting into the stack of boxes. 

A minute or two goes by with repeated calls of your name, echoing from different parts of the warehouse like Johnny’s making the rounds. Searching for you. He’s probably been looking around the store for ages, with his track record. Someone must have let it slip that you were assigned to inventory today instead of being out on the floor. 

You only let out a sigh when it’s been long enough that any reasonable person might have given up on trying to find you in the loading dock.

��Hiding from someone?” a deep voice asks from behind you.

Your gut all but self-ejects. When you turn around, he’s standing there in the same bright blue shirt that you also wear. His is stretched tight across his chest though, like it’s a size too small. You wonder sometimes if it’s on purpose. It’s hard not to let your eyes wander, but by now you’ve trained yourself to keep your eyes level when speaking to Johnny. 

“Nope,” you squeak. “Just…you know…counting. Counting boxes and…stacks.”

He laughs, loud enough to make you startle. It’s far too enthusiastic, like you told a particularly funny joke instead of stumbling over your words and you still don’t actually know if he finds you funny or not. 

“Cool,” Johnny says, taking a step closer to you. The clipboard doesn’t feel sufficient enough to put any real distance between the two of you. “Thought I could maybe come hang out with ye back here. Dinnae want ye to feel lonely.”

“Nope, not lonely at all. Totally peachy. Actually glad I could catch a break from…everyone.” You take a step back.

He follows you, another step forward. “Aye, dinnae worry, I get what ye mean. Some of the others—” he whistles, “—right buggers. Glad to catch a break myself as well.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be…out in the front? I, uh, don’t want you to get in trouble with Jeff—”

“Ah, Jeff’s fine, kitty, dinnae worry about me,” Johnny coos, sounding pleased as punch. He takes you at face value instead of reading into the set of your jaw and the way you keep inching away from him as he gets closer to you, convinced that you genuinely in your heart care about whether he gets written up or not. “They fuckin’ love me, ye ken? Think he wants ta take me out for lunch tomorrow, but told him I’d only go if he invited ye as well.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” you whisper instead of screaming. You’re doing that a lot these days. Talking through the scream bubbling behind your front teeth. 

“Would ye want ta then?” he asks, suddenly in your face, three quick steps bridging the gap between you in barely a second, hardly enough time for you to blink. You blink and it’s just Johnny, in startling definition. Thick eyebrows and scar across his chin, the bridge of his nose perfect like he’s never broken it before. “Grab some lunch with me?”

“I, uh…I brought my lunch from home.”

“It’s a’right, I’ll buy it for ye, hen. Dinnae need ta waste your money.” Sometimes when he talks to you, he gets like this, fervent and almost desperate. He seems only half aware of it. “Ye like that mediterranean place nearby, right? Seen ye go there once or twice; wanted ta tag along, but dinnae want ta alarm ye.”

“You saw me go there?” you repeat. 

“Aye, happened ta glance out the window when ye were on your lunch break. Back before management changed my break time. Cheers for that as well because it was really startin’ ta bother me, ye ken? Not being able ta eat with my favourite coworker.” 

You never know how to respond when Johnny lets on a bit too much about how he feels about you. Sometimes he slips up and it comes rushing out, a big spool of thread unwinding in front of you.  

“Yeah, well…I don’t know about today but maybe…” you say, trailing off. There’s a danger in just brushing him off, you feel. 

“Tomorrow then,” he decides, grin still splitting his face. “I’m no’ on the schedule, but I can drop by at your lunch break and go with ye. How’s that sound?”

“Well, you know…it sounds…” He’s close enough now that if you lean forward, you’ll faceplant in between his pecs. Despite everything, you have to slightly fight the urge. Sometimes you think it’d be easier if he weren’t so absurdly gorgeous. It doesn’t make any of his actions okay, it doesn’t excuse his behaviour just because he’s pretty, yet still he pulls you in somehow, magnetic. “It sounds—you know, actually, I think Jeff wanted to talk to me about something, so if you don’t mind—”

Johnny tries to say something, but you manage to duck around him and scurry off, disappearing into the stacks of boxes before pressing forward until you burst out the main doors out of the warehouse. It leads to a hall that goes towards the store, but you haul it to the women’s washroom instead. The one place he can’t follow you inside. 

In the washroom, you can finally breathe. Resting your hands on either side of the sink, you look into the mirror where haggard eyes with deep circles underneath stare back at you. 

You flinch when one of the toilets flush and the stall door opens, another coworker stepping out. 

“Did I hear Johnny outside?” she asks, taking the sink beside you to wash her hands. You nod, still tongue tied. “He really follows you everywhere, huh?”

For a second, your shoulders relax. “God, I know, he’s always just hovering—”

She cuts you off, sighing dreamily. “You’re so lucky. He’s so hot, it’s unreal. I can’t believe he works here, like that’s insane. I’d kill to have him as obsessed with me as he is with you.”

“He’s—he’s not into me, he’s just…you know, he just hovers.”

The water shuts off. Your coworker shoots you a dubious look, almost mocking. “Yeah, alright. Sure. Not into you. Not like he hangs off your every word. You don’t have to be humble—we’re already jealous. It’s like rubbing it in when you pretend like it’s totally normal.”

You slump, defeated, when she leaves without drying her hands. It’s moot to try and commiserate with anyone. They don’t see him the way you do, not for who he is. Your coworkers love Johnny; you’ve seen someone genuinely fistpump after being scheduled with him. 

They don’t see any of the weird shit though. They don’t see the way he insists on walking you to your car well into the evening after a closing shift together. They don’t notice the way Johnny laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. 

They’re never around to see him ask if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. They’ve never seen him beg management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch. 

Sometimes you look at him and think, this guy should not be in the Appliance section of a big box store. Johnny should be on the front cover of magazines, in commercials for toothpaste, acting in Hallmark movies, or maybe hand modelling for obscenely ornate watch companies that cost the equivalent of a mortgage—not handing out free samples of sliced cheese.

That was then.

It starts like this: an overeager sales associate who butts his way to the front of the line on your first day. 

You think at first that you’re golden. It seems like a sweet deal—an easy enough job, maybe not what you went to school for, but still something to pass the time and not too backbreaking. Plus, the guy shaking your hand and chatting up a storm in front of you is making you melt inside. He’s easy on the eyes—all bright smiles, effortless charm, either just brushing or exactly six feet, and built. Broad shouldered and lean. 

Johnny’s a model employee as well—knows the handbook inside and out, and shows you the ropes on your first day along with the assistant manager giving you a tour of the store, which is helpful because there’s at least three floors that you could easily get lost on. He walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude, and you find out early on that management loves him because of his frankly incredible sales record. 

(And you get it too; you can’t imagine anyone looking into those gorgeous blue eyes and turning him down.)

He's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some “Jobs for Vets” program that they just rolled out. The guy can also stack things on a shelf like no one's business, products lined up with military precision (hence the ex-military status). 

All in all, you can’t help feeling like for once in your life, you didn’t draw the short stick. 

Then one day, you’re alone with Johnny in the breakroom early in the morning before the store has opened yet and he turns to you with a wide, boyish grin and says apropos of nothing, “Named my fleshlight after you.”

You think your brain skips a couple tracks like a record player. You rewind and replay what was just said to you. There’s no two ways about it—you must have misheard him. Of course you did because surely your coworker of two months didn’t just look you in the eyes and say with a sweet sunshine smile that he named his sex toy after you. 

He doesn’t laugh, just stands there and smiles while stirring sugar into his coffee. He takes it black. You take note of that because the brain still has to work when the mind shuts down momentarily, so you use it instead to catalogue things around the breakroom. One of the motivational posters hanging near the door is hung a bit off-centre. The fluorescent lightbulb on the far side of the room is dimmer than the others. Johnny’s eyes have a little light spot in them like the tip of an ocean wave.

“Excuse me?” you ask, dumbfounded. Your voice sounds hollow even to you.

“I named her after ye,” he repeats, not a trace of shame in his voice. “Used ta not have a name at all, but figured since I say it so much when I’m enjoyin’ her, she might as well share it with ya.” 

He stares at you after saying that, letting it hang in the air. Your brain chooses that moment to come back online and all it can do is load that image of Johnny home alone with his fleshlight, toes curled in his sheets and the muscles of his legs straining as he moans your name. All you can do is give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. 

Then, something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, laughing and clapping you on the arm before wandering off to the men's apparel section. 

It leaves you reeling for the rest of the day, sure you imagined it. It recontextualizes a few things for you though. He’s always been on the handsy side, verging on inappropriate, but skirting just enough around the edges of it that you usually brush off Johnny’s weird behaviour. Chalk it up to annoying little brotherly tendencies. You know he has a few older sisters anyway; you figured it was just how he related to women in his environment.

Not so. 

It escalates after that initial escalation. Not that things started off on an appropriate note, but at least before you could rationalize most of his quirks.

Now it’s this: his hand on your lower back during work hours when you’re busy helping a customer and he sidles up next to you, pinkie brushing so low on your back that you worry for a second that he might slip it down the back of your pants. Lifting you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. A complete misuse of his height. He digs his fingers into your sides and never lets you go right away when he puts you down. 

“Aw shit, bonnie,” he coos when you complain about it hurting you. “Dinnae mean ta hurt ye. Want me to give ye a little massage in the breakroom?” 

You learn quickly that there’s no point in complaining about his behaviour to anyone. You can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. He's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet, they say. They defend him almost viciously; the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you to stand there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. That you'll just have to teach him better. 

There’s not much you can do besides grin and bear it. You can hope one day that you'll get transferred; you don't have much hope for him being transferred. Not with how endeared he is to management.

When you finally open the door, ready to leave the bathroom and get back to work, you nearly scream when Johnny lurches off the wall across from the bathroom door where he’s been leaning. Waiting for you.

“C’mon, hen,” he says, all teeth. “Lemme walk ye back ta work.”

[solomonish]

Dork Solomon Agenda

You say sexy shady sorcerer I say nerd and love of my life

Solomon is a sad lonely little man why just wants a genuine connection us that so much to ask???

No but seriously like. It's totally fine if you hc Solomon as this man-turned-lowkey-sex-god with a million succubi and more at his whim whenever he wants and would be a tough one to put the ol' ball and chain on like to each their own for sure! But that's not MY hc

(Thats not to say my hc means he doesn't ever engage in casual sex like that and wanting a genuine long term relationship at some point [or finding out thats what you want when you meet someone] are not mutually exclusive yknow)

So like Solomon isn't the type to be short with you or keep you at an arm's length (i mean...u get what I mean. Once you're close enough and all that jazz) or get annoyed by you wanting to be affectionate?? Hello??

He LOVES the little things you do (some on accident tbh). You feeling affectionate today and give him a kiss or three on his face before you leave to go to your separate classes? Adorable, he's fallen in love again. You do that thing where you like.. forget how to walk straight and just accidentally bump into him? No come back he likes being close to you :( He doesn't SAY these things but there's a light, airy laugh he has that gives him away.

If you're ever facetiming he will say "boo!" when you connect instead of just. Greeting you like a normal person.

His fuckin. His devilgram name is monSOLO. My mans is a star wars fan!!! I dont know any of The Discourse bc I'm not super into star wars myself but he has IN DEPTH opinions about the movies. Seriously rivals Levi in this aspect. Please make time for movie nights where you watch the movies together 🥺 especially if you haven't seen them before he'd love to convert you 🥺

Didn't Solomon also have a thing for TSL??? Or am I just imagining it??

I feel like his ideal date would be exploring something new, whether its this new spooky forest or "hey have we been down this alley before? Let's check it out!" but ideal date number TWO is movie night. Even if it isn't Star Wars. He likes to sit on opposite ends of the couch throwing popcorn into each other's mouths (and big candies like peanut m&ms where you both have almost choked before) and maybe a footsie war if he's feeling real devious. Then at some point you grab a blanket and snuggle up to him and you both fall asleep on the couch

Simeon yells at him when you leave because there's popcorn EVERYWHERE

LOVES when you laugh super loud. Idk man he just thinks its great when you have such unbridled joy and then he laughs too 😊 not as loud though he's more of a quiet chuckle kind of guy (most of the time).

Is friends with Asmo so is extremely great at slumber party gossip. Catch him in his pajamas, cross-legged on the floor while clutching a pillow to his chest and listening intently to you rant about the brothers.

"Come here I have a secret to tell you" (blows air in your ear) "okay okay I'm sorry but come here again" (blows air on your neck) "okay okay last time! I actually have something to tell you. Please? Its important...." (kisses ur cheek) "like u a lil bit xo"

Never the type to send "good morning beautiful" or "good night 💞" texts. Instead he'll send you something at 4 am like "the infinite cosmos will eventually swallow whole all familiarity and life as it is now presently known and despite the adaptations humans or demons or angels could make i will still have to adapt and face the world as an alien in the realm I love so dearly. Funny how the strongest of beings bow to the whim of space and time. But sometimes my eternal journey doesn't seem so daunting when I realize that with my everlasting life will be the memory of you no matter how distant and the survival of the vessel you loved...."

And then at lunch that day when the brothers pull you away he'll send you a picture of the lasagna they're serving with "this kinda looks like you? Don't worry I'd still hit it" and then two minutes later "you not the pasta"

Is the type to think randomly "oh damn I love you so much" but has an impressive filter about it. Or he thinks he does until Luke grumbles "ugh get a room thats the fifth time you've seen that since monday" ok, sometimes he has a good filter about it

He can't help it! Sometimes you just say something really smart (or something SPECTACULARLY dumb) or you do something cute like lean on him or smile a specific way or-

Sir.....you're head over heels sir :/

The type who would go to a playground at night with you and just swing on the swings talking about life

Wants to have a secret handshake with you!!

If you're ever on a road trip with just the two of you, you can get him to join in on the terrible singing but he'll be a lot quieter than you

Also will only join in if he isn't driving. If he is and you aren't talking, he's just humming underneath his breath. Will drum on the steering wheel though

Cooking

(Yes, it gets its own section because MAYBE I'm obsessed with the idea of MC teaching Solomon to cook and the food still turning out terrible but at least it isn't a void when MC is helping)

The type to flick water at you every time he washes his hands. Will chase you down just to do it.

"Hey, tilt your head back and open your mouth MC" (proceeds to dump too big a handful of shredded cheese in your mouth)

100% the type to lean over you just to hinder your cooking abilities. Who cares if the sauce splashes he's tiiiired.... you'd let belphie do it :(

Puts a hand on your lower back when he passes behind you. Hopes you'll lean into it/step back and offer him a kiss 🥺

Believes in always having a proper table setting. Prepare for whatever juice they have (or water) in wine glasses if you're having a nice-er meal

Under the assumption that a spell ruined his sense of taste (and not that he's just bad at cooking) he hates spicy food. He can feel the burn but he gets none of the flavor??? Wack. Don't hurt him like that MC. If you do because its hilarious to watch him try to be cool about it he will pout

Gets cheesy aprons. He just likes them.

Will hit you on the top of your head with a whisk to hear the noise it makes

Will buy every kitchen hack tool there is. A ketchup dispenser that looks like a gun? He's got it. A fish that helps you squeeze out the egg yolks? Yes! A dinosaur soup ladle? You bet! Pizza scissors? A tool that makes hard boiled eggs into cubes? Something that's gotta be like 200 years old and no discernable purpose? Absolutely! He wants a hot dog toaster. Do they even have hot dogs in the devildom?

Will sneak bites just because it bothers you

Overall

Look at him. He hasn't had friends in centuries. He's playful!

Look at his DEVILGRAM NAME

His funky little WAND

This is a man who is a huge nerd, thrives off of cliches and just wants to have a good time. So let him! Its mentally exhausting having those pretenses up all the time.

[crystalwolfblog]

I Can’t Sleep Without You || Ivar x reader || Modern

This is my fic created for @ofmanderley’s writing challenge. My prompt was: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.

First of all I need to apologize because I am SUPER late with my work but life was kinda crazy and writing block wasn’t kind! 

Hope you will like it!

Being with Ivar Ragnarsson wasn't an easy task to perform. He was a man of a short temper; he could be cruel and mean but thankfully for him you were out of the reach of his anger. Ivar always did his best to keep his raging nerves away from you. For him, you were his little treasure, a lovely woman who was patient enough to even try to form any kind of relationship with him.

You got used to this life and no matter what everyone said, you stayed by his side.

Of course you didn't do this because Ivar forced you or blackmailed you. The love towards this man was simply too strong within you.

After two years of being together you learned that behind that huge, thick wall he built around himself was a suffering, lonely man that craved to be loved.

____________________________

There was one thing you loved to do right after work - paying a visit in the local cafe. It was a quiet, little, cozy place. You sat at your favourite table and placed your usual order - a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.

Last thing you expected that day was to see a familiar face.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here," Bjørn smiled, sitting in the chair right in front of you.

"Hi, Bjørn," you greeted him, returning the smile. "How are you doing?"

Eldest Ragnarsson nodded. "Oh, I am doing just fine. Since I have a break at work, I decided to get myself a coffee and something sweet."

____________________________

"So, when do you have this big game of yours?," Ubbe asked, looking into his phone.

"Seriously? I am going on and on about it for weeks now. It's this weekend, Saturday to be exact," Hvitserk rolled his eyes; he grew annoyed by repeating himself on and on.

"Forgive him. I guess the family takes a lot out of our dear brother," Ivar chuckled.

All three of them walked down the street.

It was the first time in months when they could just meet and go out. Even if they didn't plan anything crazy, it still was nice to get reunited.

"I at least have a family, Ivar. You and Y/N could think about it as well," Ubbe shrugged, placing the phone back in his pocket. "Mother is still talking about it."

"Mother will talk. We both feel comfortable with how things are for now. I am not pushing her and she is not pushing me, to anything. We just live the best of our lives and we both are happy about that," Ivar answered, nodding.

"I mean, that's sound fair," Hvitserk commented.

Boys quickly changed the subject to something far way interesting to talk about. They walked  lively as they talked about some stuff.

The nice atmosphere lasted until Hvitserk stopped in front of a little cafe. Through the cafe's big window he spotted a familiar person, actually two to be exact.

You were sitting there, talking with Bjørn and giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Yo, Ivar? Isn't it Y/N?”

Ubbe and Ivar looked over their shoulders, and then joined Hvitserk.

Ivar frowned as soon as he spotted you.

Of course you going out wasn't a problem for him, you were a free woman after all but meeting with Bjørn? Out of all the people?! Fucking Bjørn. What else?! Maybe you were doing it regularly behind his back?

"I am going back home. Whatever idea you two had, go without me, I’m passing," crippled, young man muttered, tightening the grip on his crutch.

There was no reason to argue with Ivar at that point. They could see that he was pissed and arguing with angry Ivar was like teasing a bull with a red cape, it was the last thing they really needed that day or ever.

Ubbe and Hvitserk just shook their heads and then slowly walked away.

____________________________

You had no idea how long you sat there but you couldn't help it. Talking with Bjørn was really captivating. While listening to one of his stories you looked at your watch. "Oh, my! Bjørn, I am so sorry but I should go. I still have plans."

Bjørn looked at you and nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure. It was really nice to see you."

"Same! We need to meet up one day. Bye!," You quickly paid and left the cafe.

____________________________

The walk home was calm, you even texted Ivar that you are on the way back but for some reason he didn't respond. Maybe this should be a red flag but you shrugged it off, he probably was still with his brothers.

You didn't expect to see him in the flat. He was sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers angrily. It was more than obvious that he was mad.

"Love? Did something happen?," You asked, taking your jacket off.

"I don't know. You tell me, love."

Walking into the living room you looked at him with confusion written on your face. At this point you had no idea what he meant.

"What? You gonna stand there and make a fool out of me? You thought I won't find you? I wonder how long you go behind my back!,” Ivar growled, getting up from the couch.

Then it suddenly hit you. Did he see you in the cafe? After all he was out with Hvitserk and Ubbe, so there was a slight chance he did.

"Ivar. It's not like that. I was in a cafe and Bjørn just happened to be there as well."

"He? Happened to be there?," Ivar chuckled darkly. "You are blind, stupid or both!"

His behaviour was getting out of hand  but his accusations were too much for you to handle.

"Excuse me? Watch your words, Ivar."

"Me?! Watch my words?! These are words of truth! He was following you those fucking eyes ever since I brought you home for the first time. Ever since that day he accidentally happened to be in places that you are!," Ivar growled, shaking his head. "Of course you had to fall for this. What's next?! Are you gonna fuck him? Or Maybe Hvitserk?”

You went silent. How could he even have thought about something like that? He was hard to live with but you would never cheat on him, no matter how moody or annoying he was. His words cut you deeply.

The lack of response meant as much as a yes for him.

"Fuck it. I am leaving, no idea when I will be back," Ivar muttered and walked to a hanger to grab his jacket before leaving.

The door slammed loudly that you literally jumped in the place.

____________________________

House without Ivar seemed empty.

Maybe it was stupind to miss him after this argument but you couldn't help it. You really loved that man, no matter how moody he was. Even if it was hard to love him, you knew that he was different deep inside.

Laying in bed alone was odd, without his body next to yours. He always was there, mostly complaining about his legs or just talking about his day and how annoying his brothers were.

Sighing, you took his pillow and hugged it tightly, you wanted him back but he needed time to cool down. Looking at the clock helped you realize how sleepless your night was. It was almost morning.

____________________________

Ivar also couldn't sleep. He just lied in bed, smoking and looking into the ceiling. Aslaug would prabobly murder him for smoking inside the house but he didn't care, it's not like she would kick her crippled son out of the house.

Puffing out the smoke he watched it disappearing in the air.

He already missed you, so fucking much. Ivar looked at the bedside table and grabbed his phone to check the time.

____________________________

Trying to get some sleep, you laid on the bed, with eyes closed and Ivar's pillow under your head.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed.

You sat up and grabbed it; maybe it was Hvitserk? Or Ubbe? Maybe Aslaug? Maybe something happened to Ivar? You simply had to know.

To your own surprise, it was text from Ivar himself.

Ivar ❤️😈: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.

Chuckling, you felt the wave of relief washing over you. He was alive.

You: I can say the same. Where are you?

Ivar ❤️😈: I am at my parent's house.

You: I am happy that you are safe.

Meantime Ivar blonked looking at the screen. You were happy he was safe? You were worried about him.

Ivar ❤️😈: Were you worried?

You: Of course I was, dummy. I am always worried. Listen, I just want you to know that I don't care about Bjørn. All I care about is you, Ivar. Always and forever.

He looked at the text. You didn't have a reason to hurt him in any way, you always were patient with him. Even when he was a total asshole. No matter if the day was regular or filled with pain, you just were there for him.

Maybe the fear of losing you just clouded his judgement? Bjørn wasn't like him, he was a strong and healthy man when he was just a cripple. Who the hell would pick a cripple over a healthy man?!

He was jealous and scared but it was time to fix it.

____________________________

You waited at the message but nothing came. Maybe he just fell asleep or didn't care about your empty (for him at least) arguments. After giving him fifteen minutes, you send another text to make sure he is okay, and surprisingly you heard the sound of the SMS notification in the flat.

Ivar opened the door to your shared bedroom and rested his weight on the crutch, looking at you. Without any word he walked to the bed and sat down. He removed his braces, clothes, and soon you were wrapped in a tight hug.

"I am sorry," Ivar whispered.

You nuzzled to him. "It's fine."

"It's not, Y/N. I hurt you... All because of my insecurities. I was furious, he is Bjørn, big, strong, healthy. I am none of that, and you are beautiful, special. You deserve better,``he muttered, nuzzling to you.

While listening to him, you undone his bun and moved your hand through his hair. "Silly! I love you. I love you so much, no matter what. You are hard to deal with sometimes, that’s true but I still love you."

"You are too good to me, you know that?”

Giggling, you gently pulled on his hair, earning a soft growl from him. "You should be grateful and not point it out," you kissed his forehead. "We should get some sleep."

Ivar nodded, hugging you tightly. "Yeah, you are right."

Soon, both of you fell asleep, embracing each other tightly.

____________________________

[random-imagines-blog]

Perfect Skin {Remus Lupin x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @soularsmate Wordcount: 2570 Summary: Sometimes, a little jealousy can go a long way. Notes: Andrew Garfield as Remus Lupin.

To say that Remus got a little testy near the full moon was an understatement. Even James and Sirius knew to keep their joking and pranking of their best friend to a low around those times. It was like he already transformed into a wolf with how he snarled at anyone who poked fun at him. Even you. It wasn’t even like you had said anything mean to him, you just complained a little about a scar that you had from falling off of your broom the last time that you played Quidditch with James. “Why are you even with me if you hate scars?” He asked, making you and your group go quiet. He wasn’t loud enough for others in the Common Room to overhear over the sound of their own chatter, but he was getting there. “If you hate them that much, then I’ll solve the problem for you. I can’t hurt you if I don’t see you. We’re over.”

“Remus,” You protested, trying to reach out for him. Usually a hand on his shoulder or a kiss on his cheek was enough to calm him down somewhat. But he wasn’t in the mood for that today. He backed out from your touch, refusing himself that little bit of comfort. And refusing you that comfort as well. It hurt like hell when he got up and left the room, the cloud of bad temper over his head. You just watched, mouth agape, the sweet boy that you had been dating for four months, walking away like you were nothing.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean that...” James said, running his fingers through his eternally-messy hair.

“Yeah, he cares about you a lot,” Peter added in.

“It’s just his moon time, you know how he gets,” Sirius insisted.

But despite them staying with you and trying to convince you that everything was fine, you felt that sting in his words. He had meant them. You shouldn’t have been so stupid as to bring up scars, knowing that they were an insecurity for him. He often went on and on about how you had such perfect skin. It was like he was ignoring that you had scars of your own. That you went through your own pain and troubles and got to the other side of them. Nothing as intense as his of course but - it wasn’t a competition. It shouldn’t have felt like one.

“I don’t want to be here when he gets back,” You said, getting up after a couple of minutes of the boys trying to cheer you up. “Even if he didn’t mean what he said, he still said it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You left the three boys looking sheepish and upset - they rarely ever saw Remus snap at you like that and it left them feeling uncomfortable. James eventually got up and said he was going to go look for Remus, Peter went up to do some homework before the sunset and they would be going out, and Sirius sat there and stewed. He was close to both of you, closer to you than James and Peter were, anyway.

Remus was going to regret this when he came back to his senses after the Full Moon but Sirius had seen the hurt that was on your face, and wanted to make him regret it even more. A plan started to come together in that devious head of his, and he knew he had to talk to you first thing tomorrow.

-

“That’s ridiculous,” You said at breakfast, watching as the sleepy boy piled food onto his plate. The full moon was a rough night for everyone. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t change your form to try to be with Remus, but you spent the whole night worrying about him anyway. You tried not to, you tried to stay mad at him for attempting to break up with you over something as silly as scars but you loved him too much for that. You stared out the window of your dorm all night, waiting to see the weeping willow freeze and the boys come out of it. So you were much too tired to put up with Sirius’s strange ideas.

“No it’s not,” He said, stabbing a breakfast sausage and shoved it in his mouth. He spoke with his mouthful, making you grimace. How did so many of the girls in this school find this attractive? “It’ll work, I’m serious.”

“Yes, yes, we all know you’re serious,” You said, rolling your eyes at his weak attempt at a joke. “Look, best case scenerio is that he’ll come down for breakfast, he’ll apologize and everything will be okay. Worst case scenario is that he won’t. Why do you want to make an absolute worst ever scenerio by trying to make him jealous?”

“Jealous always works, haven’t you noticed? Plus this will totally help me score a date with that blonde Ravenclaw. Hogsmeade is coming up,” He sang, grabbing the maple syrup to drench his food. “We’ll be doing each other a favor!”

“Sirius...” You said, shaking your head.

“I do love the way that you say my name,” Sirius said, blowing kisses at me. The thought of kissing him, and knowing where those lips had been, made me grimace. But that soon abated when scruffy haired Remus walked past him, bumping into him, and continued down to the end of the table to eat with some third years. Sirius had gotten a head start on the plan before you even realized that Remus was in the room.

You watched him as he sat down and only took a piece of toast for his breakfast. You frowned, getting to your feet so you could tell him to eat more, but Sirius lightly put his hand over yours. “Just let him be for a little while, it was rough last night.”

“You’re one to talk about letting things be,” You said, but lowered yourself back down to continue your breakfast. That didn’t stop you from shooting looks back to Remus though. He looked so lonely down there. Peter eventually joined him, while James bothered Lily near you. He seemed to be trying his best not to look back at you. If he was going to be stubborn, there was nothing really that you could do, except for wait it out.

And that’s what you would do. You’d wait for Remus until the end of the world if you had to.

--

You finally gave into Sirius’s plan, but only because it meant that you wouldn’t have to walk alone to class or study by yourself in the common room. He kept you company, and was a laugh most of the time. He’d tell you about some of the pranks that you had missed out on the group doing, paying careful attention to Remus’s part in them. It had already been two weeks since the full moon, and he still had not spoken to you. You got to the point of trying to send him a letter through your own but Sirius stopped you from doing that.

“Don’t appear too clingy, it’ll blow the plan,” He said, grabbing the parchment from you when he caught the name written on the top.

“I just want to make sure that he’s okay...” You admitted.

“He’s fine,” Sirius said, rolling the parchment up between his fingers. “My brilliant plan is definitely working, though. You should have seen the way that he glared at me after I hugged you goodnight last night.”

“Yeah, why did you do that? It’s not as if the Ravenclaw girl was around to see it.”

“I like to throw myself into the role. Call me a method actor,” He ran his fingers through his hair, flipping it back behind his shoulders. “Plus I like the practice. This girl might actually make me settle down, if I can just get her to notice me.”

“That’s big for you, congratulations.” You said, more than a little surprised. Sirius Black, being serious? Almost unheard of. “But you know, just asking her out might be better than all of this-”

“I already asked you out, I don’t need anyone else,” Sirius said, his whole demeanor changing. He took hold of your hands, running his thumb over the back of them. He didn’t have to tell you that Remus was in the room for you to know that Remus was in the room. “Besides, who could focus on anyone else when there’s you?”

“That’s enough,” Remus’s voice came out in a sharp tone from behind you. You turned your head around, and saw that you were finally able to catch his eye. But instead of the warm, honey look behind them that you were used to, he looked angry. Downright pissed off, actually. “Sirius, what the hell? You could have any girl you wanted, why y/n?”

“I’m sitting right here,” You said, starting to stand up, but once again, Sirius had a good grip on your hands, pulling you back down.

“Calm down, pumpkin,” Sirius said, eyeing his friend. “It’s not my fault you gave her up, mate. She became fair game the minute you broke up with her for whatever stupid reason-”

“You’re a bastard,” Remus said, shaking his head, glare evident. “You’re a bloody bastard, Black, and I regret that I ever thought you were my friend.”

“Remus...” You said, breaking out of Sirius’s grip as the dark haired boy sat dumbstruck. “It’s really not what you think-”

“Save it,” Remus said, the anger in his voice turning to hurt as he addressed you. “Looks enough like you moved on.”

“I didn’t - let me explain, let me talk to you...” You pleaded. This was getting the attention of the others around the common room, and both you and Remus paused as you noticed the stares. “Please.” You said, one more time.

“Fine,” Remus said, taking your hand and pulled you up towards the boy’s dormitory. James was laying out on his bed, passed out, a book about Quidditch resting on his chest. Remus pulled the curtains over him so that he couldn’t see, then sat on the edge of his bed, watching me. “Why did it have to be Sirius?”

“Wow, he must be a better actor than I thought he was, if he had you fooled,” You said, crossing your arms. “Sirius, seriously?”

That usually got the guys to chuckle, but there was nothing this time. Remus’s eyes still looked at you coldly. You sighed. “He’s trying to play you and some Ravenclaw girl into being jealous. I was against the idea, by the way. But then Peter took your side, James was obsessed with Lily and I had no one else to hang out with so ... I sort of went with it. But I didn’t like it. It got all weird when he was start playing with my hair or trying to hold my hand. It never felt right. Not like it did when you did it. Now can we just put an end to this ridiculous mess, and be together again?”

Remus stood up, and paced in front of you. His usually sweet face was contorted into something angry. As confused as you were, and as much as you were wanting to be over, it was pretty hot. He came in close, his warm breath on your face, and took your chin between his calloused fingers.

“All of that - was a ploy - to make me jealous? Is that really what you’re going with?”

“It’s the truth,” You said, unable to look away from his eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing between Sirius and I. I swear.”

He gave a little grunt, and you couldn’t tell whether that meant he believed you or not. After a long moment’s silence, still gazing into one another’s eyes, he finally spoke. “Good, because seeing you with him...” This time a growl came from between his lips.

“Does that mean his plan worked?” You questioned.

“That smart bastard,” Remus muttered. “He knows that you’re my weakness. Seeing you with anyone else makes me a little crazy.”

Rather than feel angry, you felt a bit happy. Relieved. He still cared about you. He still had your chin between his fingers, and he pulled your face in towards his to meet him in a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in even closer. Chest to chest. He surprised you even further by letting go of your face, just to go for your  legs, pulling them up so that they were wrapped around his waist.

Sweet Remus Lupin. You knew that he had something of a dark side, becoming a wolf whenever the moon was full, but he was in between cycles right now. This was all him and yet - there was something animalistic about it. Sexy about it, even.

He took a few steps backwards, turning you so that you would fall onto his bed while he was on top of you. With barely a wave, the curtains closed around the two of you, granting you privacy from the sleeping Potter in the next bed. “I thought I was going to go out of my mind,” He admitted, his lips detaching from yours for just a moment. “You’re mine, y/n, and seeing Sirius’s hands on you. Thinking about what you might have been up to...”

“Absolutely nothing, my love,” you said, keeping your legs wrapped around him so that he couldn’t get away from you again. “I’ve always been yours.”

He pressed possessive kisses all up and down your neck, down to your collar bone and then back up. Right at your jawline, he sucked, kissed and nibbled harshly, leaving marks. You didn’t mind at all, but rather you moaned beneath each and every touch of him. Two weeks had been much too long without him. And he clearly felt the same way about you. Hands were running over your ribs, over your chest. He was repeating your name, his arousal felt between your own legs.

The amazing moment of your reunion was interrupted by something bumping against the curtain, and falling down upon the floor.

“Great, you’re back together,” James’s sleepy voice came through. “But do you mind keepin’ it down? Trying to sleep over here, bloody hell.”

“Sorry James,” You giggled.

“I’m not,” Remus grinned.

“Gonna go sleep in the common room then,” James mumbled, and he disappeared out of the room and down the stairs.

The reunion commenced, and you didn’t mind this new jealous side of Remus that sometimes came out. Though afterwards, as he curled up in your arms, you were the one who comforted him that there was no one else out there in the world for you. That he was your one. And that no matter how many scars he had, or where they were, he had the most perfect skin in the world, because it was his.

[mhdiaries]

SDCC 2015 Kieran Valentine Diary

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew. 

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary. 

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

V, 

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely, 

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again. 

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Beginnings (2/9)

Mammon x ace gn!MC x ace!Leviathan

NOTE - read the content warnings listed in Part 1

[ AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

Mammon sprawled out on his bed. He knew exactly why you were avoiding him. And even though he’d scoff and act annoyed, he was really anything but. Every time he’d see you, for a brief moment he’d imagine you running up to him and tackling him in a hug like you’d use to. Which was ridiculous. Of course you wouldn’t do that, not after what he said.

Bored, and lonely, and with nothing else to do, Mammon pulled out his DDD and started browsing through Devilgram. He had initially been trying to distract himself, but it didn’t take long before he had stumbled across some old photos of you and him together. A soft smile spread across his face, even as he felt his heart tightening in his chest. He really missed you.

He swiped to the next image, surprised to find it was one that had been taken by one of his brothers of you and Levi. He noticed the glimmer in your eye as you looked at Levi while must have been ranting about who only knows what. Mammon felt his eyes starting to burn, tears pricking at the corners. He knew that look. That was his look. The one you were only supposed to direct at him. And here you were gazing at his brother like that?!

He was about to chuck his phone across the room, when his thumb swiped the screen again, this time moving on to a video of the three of you. You were at some coffee shop, and Mammon’s arm was wrapped tight around your shoulder, holding you close. Levi had been sitting next to you, awkwardly drinking his ridiculous coffee creation, when you looped your arm through his and tugged him to you so that he was also in the frame. The action made him blush up a storm, but there was that unmistakable look on his face of an idiot in love, one Mammon knew all too well.

Fuck.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before, but seeing the three of you together like that, you smiling and laughing as Mammon realized he was recording a video and not taking a photo, and Levi practically glowing like he was having the best day ever, made it painfully obvious just how smitten the lot of you were. You had done the responsible thing and tried to talk to Mammon about your feelings, and he had been a total dick, letting his insecurity get the better of him.

He had nothing against the idea of a polyamorous relationship in general. He had never had one before, but that was more just about timing and circumstance than any preference on his part. But as soon as you suggested it, a horrible dark, ugly feeling started to consume him and he just couldn’t think straight anymore. The thought that maybe the reason why you wanted such an arrangement with his brother was because Mammon was somehow lacking in some area had been hard to shake.

Mammon glanced back at the video on his DDD, swiping again to move to the next photo, and again and again. Dozens of photos of the three of you (and sometimes his other brothers too). You clearly didn’t think Mammon was lacking. You just genuinely seemed to love them both.

Mammon’s bedroom door suddenly got flung open, Levi forcing his way inside.

“What the hell did you do?!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Mammon.

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about? I haven’t left my room since I got home from RAD!”

“I’m talking about MC, idiot, and why they have been avoiding me.”

“I dunno. Sounds like your problem,” Mammon quipped, turning his attention back to his DDD. He knew exactly what Levi was talking about though. And he knew it was his fault.

“Don’t give me that crap!” Levi shouted, picking up a nearby pillow and chucking it at Mammon. The impact knocked his designer shades askew, “Talk!”

“Fuckin’ hell! Aight. Fine. Wanna know why they’re avoidin’ ya?”

“Obviously!”

“Because they’re in love with you.”

“Th-th-that’s not funny! What kind of sick joke is that? It doesn’t even make any sense!” Levi stuttered, caught completely off guard by the revelation. But Mammon just shrugged his shoulders, hurling the pillow back at Levi, before laying back down on his bed.

“Go ask them if ya don’t believe me.”

Levi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why the hell would Mammon, who was supposed to be your partner, tell him that you had feelings for him? Had he broken up with you? Were you avoiding Levi because you were heartbroken and didn’t know if he’d accept your confession and just couldn’t bear to have your heart broken twice so close together? His thoughts were rapidly skipping from one to the next, as he struggled to make sense of this.

“F-fine! I will!” he finally shouted, slamming the door behind him as he left.

“STOP SLAMMING MY FUCKIN’ DOOR!” Mammon yelled after him.

——————

Back in his room, Levi was pacing in front of his fish tank, talking things over with Henry.

“Should I just go to their room? No, what if Mammon was just lying. Then they might not want to see me! Or worse...Mammon might be with them and I’d walk in on them and he’d just laugh at me for being so stupid. That has to be what this is, right? Some sort of trick because he’s in a bad mood. He just wants me to embarrass myself. There’s no way they’d actually like me. I mean, I know they’re my best friend, but still. That’s totally different than actually liking someone.”

Levi continued to ramble on and on, Henry swimming laps around his tank, like he was simply letting Levi wear himself out before he reached the obvious conclusion.

“Well...maybe I could like, text them? That would work right? Just a simple “ha ha can you believe what Mammon said” sort of thing? That should be ok, right? Not too desperate? What do you think, Henry?”

But Henry didn’t answer, he just continued swimming, leaving Levi to do what he knew he needed to do.

“Fine...but if this doesn’t work out, I’m blaming you,” Levi grumbled, taking out his DDD and tapping your name in his contacts.

>>>LEVI - hey

>>>LEVI - so. I stopped by Mammon’s room earlier

>>>LEVI - and he said you had feelings for me! LOLOL

>>>LEVI - can you believe that?

Levi held his breath as he waited for your response. The little “typing” notification appearing and then disappearing several times left him feeling like he was about to be sick.

>>>YOU - Mammon said that?

>>>LEVI - yeah, crazy right?

>>>YOU - it’s true

>>>YOU - but I don’t know what to do

>>>YOU - it’s complicated

>>>YOU - Levi? Are you still there?

>>>YOU - im sorry, did I say something wrong?

>>>YOU - I really care about you, I do

>>>YOU - you’re my best friend

>>>YOU - it’s ok if you don’t feel the same

>>>YOU - Levi?

[ships4you]

the innkeeper

Pairing: Sokka x reader & some motherly Katara

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood

Authors Note: Someone requested a shy reader afraid of confronting Sokka but I accidentally deleted the request :( So this is for my lovely anon who requested this <3 Also I’ve been trying to make my fics as gender neutral and all that jazz, but please call me out if I slip up so I can fix it!! I may split this into 2 parts, so stay tuned :):)

Prompt: The reader and their family are in charge of the only running inn of the Northern Watertribe. When the Avatar and his friends come to the city the reader finds themselves befriending our favorite Southern Watertribe prince.

“The avatar is in the city!” your younger sister, Kana yelled running into your room. She grabbed your arm before you could resist and before you knew it she was dragging you to the courtyard. “The avatar? Here?!” you responded, “What is the avatar doing in the Northern Water Tribe?” She shrugged, “I’ve heard some people say he’s here to learn waterbending. I don’t see why though he should be like 1000 years old by now.”

The courtyard was crowded with familiar faces from the Tribe, everyone had seemed to rush just to get a glimpse of the all powerful avatar. Your sister had dragged you to an empty bridge overlooking the mass of people. Suddenly a large fluffy beast entered the courtyard walking next to three kids. “Avatar Aang,” the chief boomed, his voice bringing the crowd to a hush. The youngest of the three, dressed in colorful clothing you’ve never seen before bowed before the Chief. Kana latched to your side overflowing with excitement, “Do you think that’s him?! There’s no way, he’s my age...” You lightly pushed her off chuckling, “Shush up, I can’t hear what’s going on.”

As the Chief’s welcoming speech dragged on you focused on the two dressed in large blue sweaters similar to your current outfit. They both were clearly Water Tribe, but you had never seen them around the city before. The boy was looking around, amazed by his surroundings. You smiled at his giddiness, the smile stretched across his face was so pure and cute. He had deep blue eyes that were shifting every which way. You were so distracted, it took you a second to realize he had glanced up at you. Your eyes met and he smiled offering his hand up for a friendly wave.

“Eeep!” you squeaked squatting down behind the icy railing. Did he notice you staring? Was he weirded out? Obviously he was, who stares at people- creeps! That’s who. That was so embarrass-

“(y/n).” your sister said distracting you from your thoughts, “Why are you on the floor.” she pointed out unamused. You tucked your head between your legs and groaned, wincing at your awkwardness.

***

The inn your father ran scarcely had any customers. Most of the time your customers were either locals or Earth Kingdom generals visiting to discuss the war. All of a sudden your dad’s humble business became the talk of the town. Classmates constantly bugging you with questions, “What’s the avatar like?”, “Have you seen him airbend at all?”, “What are the two from the Southern Water Tribe like?” You didn’t have the heart to say you haven’t met them yet. Your father handled their rooms when they arrived, along with your nosy sister (who threatened to scream bloody murder if she didn’t get to meet the avatar). You on the other hand had been actively avoiding the group, especially the blue-eyed boy.

When people were staying at the inn; which was basically three extra rooms in your home, you were in charge of feeding the guests. It had been a few days since the avatar and his friends started staying at the inn. You were up early in the kitchen chopping the fresh caught fish for lunch, humming an old song your mom used to sing to you. Guests mostly ignored the kitchen, usually preferring to make small talk with the adults and patiently wait for food in the dining room. It was relaxing being safe from meeting new people.

“That song doesn’t sound watertribe.” A voice rose from behind.

Startled you turned around a little too fast and cut the side of your arm with the knife. “Shit.” you exclaimed grabbing your forearm. The boys eyes widened “Ah crap, Katara!” he yelled before running over to your side, grabbing a nearby drying cloth. You stared at him speechless. Would he recognize you? Spirits you hoped not.

“I’m so sorry,” he began blabbering focusing on your arm, his fingers grazing your skin as he pressed the cloth against the wound, “I really didn’t mean to startle you, I offered to bring the dirty dishes back here. The annoying little girl told me to bring them here, I didn’t think anyone would be back here...” His words slowing as he turned to face you. His eyebrows clinched together.

Shit.

“You look really familiar.”

Shitttt.

Before he could question any further a girl with long, brown, braided hair rushed into the room. “What is it Sokka?!” Was that his name? You had never met a Sokka before, maybe it was a common name in the South Pole. “Katara, thank the spirits! We need you to do your glowy-water-magic!” Sokka said waving his hands around. The girl, Katara, ran over bending the water out of her pouch. “What happened?” she asked unwrapping the bloody cloth off your arm.

“Umm, I cut myself. It fine, really.” you said quietly while Katara pressed her hand to your injured arm. The water started sparkling a bright blue hue. You winced at feeling. Katara smiled sweetly at you, “Does it hurt?” You shook your head, “No just feels weird.” As the glowing stopped she pulled away from your arm, bending the water along with her. “Shoot, it’s still bleeding a little.” She said examining your arm, “Sokka, I need more cloth.” He quickly glanced around the room and held out the bloody cloth he used before hand. “One that doesn’t have blood on it.”

“Oh! I got it,” Sokka began unwrapping the cloth tied at the waist of his tunic and handing it to Katara, “Here, use this.” Katara rolled her eyes and began dressing your wound. “I’m sorry I couldn’t heal it completely. I’ve only been taking classes on healing for a week, the wound should be clean now and the bleeding should stop in a couple days.” Her eyes were kind and warm when she smiled at you. “Thank you, I’m sorry I can be clumsy at times.” you murmured looking down at your arm. “I’m Katara by the way, and that’s my idiot older brother Sokka.” she said gesturing behind her. You pressed your lips together in a small smile, “I’m (y/n)”

***

Since then you had grown to enjoy being around Katara. She was sweet and easy to be around. She would often come to help clean after meals, despite you opposing her help several times.

Sokka however, you avoided him like the plague. Not because you didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted to. But you couldn’t stand to face him after embarrassing yourself twice. You knew it would have to happen sooner or later, you still had his belt Katara had used to wrap your cut. It took hours to wash all the blood out but the cloth was finally clean, dry, and folded neatly on top of your bed. Mocking you.

The simple solution would to have Katara take it to him, but then you’d be mad at yourself for running away. Which you had already done. a couple times... There were times you tried to give it back to him, but in the end you would wimp out.

“Oh my spirits, just give it to him.” Kana groaned. “You don’t get it Kana, I was so weird around him he probably thinks I’m a freak...” you said shifting the folded blue cloth between your fingers. “You. are. ridiculous.” she said tightly grabbing your arm, “Come on. We are doing this right now.” She yanked your wrist, dragging you through the hallway. “Wait! Like right now, right now?!” She nodded, harshly knocking on his door. “Yup. SOKKA! (Y/N) HAS SOMETHING FOR YOU!!” she screamed before running off, “Good luck!”

Before you had the chance to run after her, his door swung open. “Uh hi,” he said “was that your sister screaming?” You stammered back “Umm yea, she was just- she uh... I have your belt.” you interrupted yourself holding out the cloth. “Oh, right, thank you. How’s your arm?” You glanced down at the newly wrapped cloth wrapped around your forearm. “It’s doing well, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”

“Good. Good, that’s good.” he spoke as he were tripping over each word, “You know, I had been hoping you’d come by.” your eyes widened at the comment, “No, no-no-no, that sounded weird.” He explained, “I meant the belt. It’s my lucky belt so thank you.” You hugged your sides and pressed your lips into a tight smile, “You’re welcome, sorry I took a while to bring it back.”

“It’s all good, I’m just glad you’re here now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey, so... I haven’t seen much of the city yet and it gets kind of lonely while Aang and Katara are at training. I was thinking maybe you would like to go for a stroll sometime... With me.”

You couldn’t believe he was just as nervous as you. He always seemed so confident around the Inn, you just assumed he would be more outgoing. “A stroll?” you questioned slightly giddy.

“Yea, or a walk, whichever you prefer. Or not. Either is good if you wanted to, but if you don’t that’s okay too. You just seemed like a really cool person and I feel so bad about scaring you and-“

“Sokka. I would love to go for a stroll.” you stopped his rant before he could finish. His smiled widened, “Ok, yea cool. Totally chill... So, I’ll come meet you in the kitchen after breakfast tomorrow?” You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt, “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You said backing away. He leaned against the door frame, waving the same way he did the first time you saw him. “Yea! Tomorrow.”

Sokka spent the next five minutes mentally screaming at his awkwardness.

***

tag list: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapters 7/? | total 29k words | Ao3

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: It's been... so long since I've updated this fic. I'm sorry but life got in the way and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. Here I come with apologies and hopes that you haven't forgotten about the adventures of Bucky, Alex and Steve. I'm gonna treat you with the longest chapter I've ever written (it's like 5.3k). I hope you'll like it, I got a bit carried away and my space-nerdiness is showing every now and then.

The chapters will probably come very irregularly from now on but I'll try my best not to have too long gaps between each update. I love you all and — as always — thank you so, so much for your continuous support. I cherish every single reader, every single like and every single comment you leave here :')

Chapter 7

(5.2k)

When Monday rolls around, Bucky faces New York’s chilly morning as he makes his way to work. It’s been only a few days since he got sick, but he feels significantly better now. His nose might still be stuffed and his throat might feel a bit scratchy, but he is mostly fine. No more coughing fits, no more fever. And it’s not like he could say no when his boss called him to check how he was doing and ask if he’d be able to come by before Christmas to do some required maintenance work.

But it’s fine, since the work at the Institute has slowed down, many people have already taken their days off for the Christmas break. It’s calmer than usual and Bucky can do whatever he’s supposed to do in peace.

It's a bit past noon and Bucky's mindlessly staring at the progress bar on his screen and enjoys his coffee. The peace and quiet — excluding his Christmas playlist playing in the background — is disturbed by the ringing of his phone. Slightly startled, Bucky looks around, searching for the device. After a quick glance at the screen, he answers the call.

"Hi, Buck!" Steve says, his voice soft and warm. "I hope I didn't wake you up or anything. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you're feeling."

"That's very sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips spreading in a smile. "And I'm fine, thank you. Currently waiting for the data backup to finish so you've disrupted my staring contest with the progress bar."

Steve doesn't appreciate the joke. Instead, he asks, "You're at work?" After receiving an affirmative hum, he lets out a slightly annoyed huff. "Why? You should still be in bed! Three days ago you've been barely able to get up for longer than 10 minutes. You should still rest, Buck."

"It's been six days ago, thank you very much," Bucky answers. "And I'm fine, Steve. I promise. I wouldn't come if I was still feeling sick, but the fever's been gone for a few days," two but Steve doesn't have to know that, "and I'm not coughing anymore. I'm as fit as a fiddle."

"I can hear you sniffle."

"It's the allergies," Bucky lies and that makes Steve laugh, although a bit exasperated.

"You're horrible," he says. "Bet you haven't even eaten breakfast or drink enough water or like... didn’t even wear a hat even though you’re sick."

"I did have a toast while I ran to catch the train. And now I'm having coffee for lunch. And it’s not even that cold."

An honest-to-God gasp escapes Steve's mouth after he hears that. Of course he's a Mr. Healthy Lifestyle, Bucky shouldn't even be surprised.

"How are you even functioning? You gotta take care of yourself, Buck."

Bucky's heart skips a bit. It's nice to have someone worry about him. Even if he's being dragged in the meantime. And it was nice when Steve took care of him and Alex back when Bucky was too sick to do this. Of course, he has people who do that. Clint, Tasha, Scott -- he can always count on them. But somehow it feels different with Steve. Steve hasn't been around for years like the others, he's known Bucky for just a few months and he still decided to offer his kindness and care. This thought made Bucky's heart do somersaults in his chest.

So did the fact that Steve had a nickname to Bucky's nickname. And he's been using it a lot. Bucky really likes it.

"I'm functioning very well, thank you. And so is Alex, because I'm not as hopeless in taking care of her, luckily," Bucky chuckles. Before Steve can't say anything, Bucky adds, "Besides, I've been able to survive 28 years like this so don't be overdramatic. No need to go all mother hen on me."

"Oh, you think this is overdramatic?" Steve asks, amused. "You clearly don't know what me being overdramatic is, pal. This is just some simple, friendly check-in."

"Okay, now I'm kinda curious," Bucky says. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Hypothetically, what would one have to do to see what is Steve Rogers's definition of overdramatic?"

It makes Steve let out another laugh. "Careful what you wish for, Buck." It sounds like Steve wants to say something else but there's some noise in the background and his voice becomes distant and inaudible for a moment. When he comes back, he says with a sigh, "Sorry 'bout that. I need to go back to work. I'm glad you're feeling better but eat a proper meal or I'll hunt you down."

"Oh, so no mother hen anymore, were going straight to threats, okay." Bucky nods to himself and Steve huffs out a laugh. "Thanks for the call, Steve. It's very sweet of you. Have a nice day."

"You, too. Say hi to Alex from me."

"I will. Bye, Steve."

.

A small smile is still present on Bucky's face when a few hours later he's picking Alex up from school. It grows bigger when she runs towards him down the stairs, her haphazardly wrapped scarf fluttering behind her. He takes a moment to tuck it properly and then takes Alex's backpack from her.

“How was school today?” Bucky asks as they head home.

“Fine. We played soccer and I scored once!” Alex answers proudly. “Even Adrian didn’t and he’s very good. Maya didn’t want to play ‘cause she says girls shouldn’t play soccer.”

“Jokes on her, because we have a women’s national soccer team and they’re the best. They’re the world champions.”

A gasps escapes Alex’s mouth. “Really? That’s so cool! I want to be a soccer player when I grow up!”

“Not a ballerina, anymore?” Bucky asks, with a small smile.

“No, I’m gonna be a ballerina but I’m gonna play soccer sometimes, too. But that’s after I’ll fly to the moon!”

Bucky only nods and grins at her. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she actually pulled that off in the future. There weren’t many things that could stop her since she decided upon something.

“How’s space?” Alex asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Bucky chuckles. It’s a bit of a tradition at this point. He doesn’t really remember how it started but now she never asks him “how’s work” but it’s always “how’s space?”. Personally, Bucky loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing much cooler things that he really does.

“Pretty boring, sadly,” he admits. “Didn’t have much to do today and many people are on their breaks so no fun space facts to share today. I chatted on the phone with Steve and he wanted me to say hi to you.”

“Oh, is he coming over today?”

Slightly confused with the question, Bucky shakes his head. “No, he’s not. We just talked on the phone. Why?”

“I don’t know, I thought you liked Steve.”

“Well, I do. I like uncle Scott too but we don’t hang out with him every day, either. Steve has his own life and stuff to do, so we shouldn’t bother him all the time.”

Alex makes a small hum and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a dismissive or an agreeing one. After a moment, she adds, “I bet he wouldn’t mind though. He told me he really likes you.”

“What? When?” The revelation almost makes Bucky stop in the middle of the pavement. The biggest surprise is not that Steve likes him, Bucky has figured out this much after all those times they’ve hung out together. What really takes him aback is that apparently his daughter and Steve are having conversations about him when he’s not there.

“When you were sick and Steve went to ballet class with me. I told him he’s cool and I’m happy you have him so you’re not so lonely. And he said he thinks we’re really cool too and that he likes us a lot.”

This time Bucky slows down and eventually stops. There’s a furrow between his brows when he looks at Alex.

“Why would you think I’m lonely, munchkin? I’m not, I have you and mama, uncle Clint and Scott. And now Steve. I’m more than fine.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I didn’t mean lonely. But sometimes when you have a lot to do and you worry and mama or uncle Clint are busy you do this—” Alex furrows her brows and pouts, apparently imitating a worried Bucky “and you’re quiet and worried. And now you smile even more than you did. You smile all the time when you text Steve.”

For a moment, Bucky only gapes at her, not sure how to react. That’s a lot of information coming at once from his 7-year-old daughter.

“I’m— Well, I’m okay, even if I worry sometimes. And I couldn’t be lonely, having such a sweet little munchkin by my side,” he smiles, bopping her on the nose and getting a smile in return. “But thank you for caring about me, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back.”

“And I love you to Jupiter!” she answers.

“But not back?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s already so far away, it’s enough.”

The conversation with Alex stays in Bucky’s head for the rest of the day. It’s gnawing at him enough that before he goes to bed, he takes out his phone and calls Natasha.

“How’s my favourite co-parent doing?” she greets.

“Do you have any more co-parents?” Bucky asks instead of answering.

“Nope. That’s what makes you my favourite.” Bucky only sighs so she continues. “Did something happen? You’re usually in the mood for late night conversation when something’s on your mind.”

There’s no point in denying it since Natasha would see right through him. “It’s nothing bad. Apparently Alex thinks I’m lonely.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

“What? Tasha, no. I’m not lonely, where did you two get that idea?”

“James, it’s not my fault that you’re an idiot. I know that you have people who love you around. You know that, too. But I know and you also should know — but here’s the ‘idiot’ part — that it might not be enough sometimes. And I’m pretty sure we’ve had a similar conversation like a month ago, so I don’t know why you act all surprised now.”

“Remind me, why did I even call you?”

“Because I am incredible and you value my opinion like no one else’s and also you love me deeply,” Natasha explains dutifully. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh as he sits heavily on the side of his bed. His eyes land on the comic from Steve, still laying on Bucky’s bedside table, propped against the lamp. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

“Did our daughter have any more revelations for you?” Natasha asks.

“Well…,” Bucky hesitates for a moment. “She and Steve gossip about me when I’m not around. And apparently I’ve been smiling more lately. But that’s about it.” 

Natasha hums but even through the phone Bucky can hear that she’s rather amused. 

"What?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I can hear you laughing, just say whatever mean thing you're going to say and let's get this over with."

"I'm not gonna say anything mean! I was just wondering when we'd mention Steve in this conversation," she chuckles. "But really. Even your daughter can see that a relationship would be good for you. And that you like Steve a lot. Why not kill two birds with one Steve?"

Bucky sighs. "Because one Steve is also enough to kill this friendship we have."

"Why do you always just automatically assume that things will get fucked? It doesn't have to be the case. I'm serious, you'd better take a grip on yourself and ask him out or I'm back in three days and I'll do this for you. And I'll be as obnoxious and embarrassing for you as I can."

That's actually a pretty horrible threat. She would do that. And it would be both mortifying and horrible to experience for all the involved parties — maybe except Natasha. Bucky laughs, trying to imagine it, but the laugh is short-lived.

"Come on, Nat," Bucky starts after a moment, getting serious. "Steve is great and it's great having him around. But what if I make a move and he's not interested? I don't want to freak him out. Or remember that message I accidentally saw on his computer? He might be seeing someone already or be interested in someone else," Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I know from experience that no matter how much he might seem to like me, a guy with a kid can turn out to be a bit much for people. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want Alex to get hurt. She adores Steve and I don't know if I can risk it."

"But I'm telling you, nobody's getting hurt anytime soon," Natasha chimes in. "You're overthinking, Yasha. Those are all valid concerns but you know what the counterargument is?" She takes a small break but she's not expecting Bucky to respond. "Steve's a good guy. He likes you. He likes Alex. He came to a primary school dance recital after knowing you for like a week just because you and Alex asked him to. Even if he doesn't want a relationship, it doesn’t mean that your friendship has to end. From all you've told me, he doesn't seem like the kind to trample on your hearts like this. Give yourself some time, but promise me you're gonna think about it, okay? And call me if you work yourself up into an anxious mess again, okay?”

“I will try not to be an anxious mess, but I’ll let you know. And I’ll think about it. Thanks, Tasha.” Bucky says.

“I love you no matter what, you dumbfuck. Bye.”

Bucky barely manages to say it back before she hangs up. He shakes his head with a small smile and retrieves his charger cable from behind the bedside table. As he plugs his phone, he accidentally knocks down the drawing from Steve. He picks it up, staring at the soft lines for who-knows-which time. His thumb gently traces the “Get well soon, Buck! x” scribbled at the bottom.

Looking at it, Bucky imagines the moment when Steve was writing it down. In his mind, he sees both Steve and Alexandra at the kitchen table, both leaning over their respective pieces of paper, focused on whatever they’re drawing. They are smiling, chatting about whatever common interest they’ve currently discovered. It’s a very nice picture. Enough to make Bucky’s heart ache.

Because Natasha is right. This is exactly what Bucky craves and what he’s been ignoring for years. That domesticity, that warm feeling one gets when looking at someone they care about. That happiness. He can almost imagine himself joining the picture he’s created in his head, walking over to that table and dropping a kiss first on Alex’s head and then on Steve’s, before he starts preparing the dinner. It feels right. 

Maybe it’s not usual to imagine this calm, family life with someone he’s not even in a relationship with. Most people probably think of tons of other things, things that are not so… settled. Not as serious. Sometimes they never reach this part. But Bucky has figured a while ago that it doesn’t really work for him. He already has a family. And this family means everything and more to him. If he ever was to date, he has to make sure that the person would fit into his and Alexandra’s life. He has to skip ahead to make sure it’s worth going through the dates and the passion and all the work a relationship requires, without it all ending in a heartbreak. But Steve… 

Steve fits so well into this picture, it scares Bucky a bit. Because this would be even harder to let go, if things didn't work out.

It's pretty clear, now that he allows himself to think about it, that he has some feelings for Steve. Besides the friendliness and sympathy, that is. They're the romantic kind and they're still fresh and shy but they're here. And Bucky has absolutely no clue how to deal with them. It's not even that surprising, he realises. Because how could he not catch feelings for Steve? For the kindest, most thoughtful and most selfless person in the world? For someone with his heart made of gold, who always knows how to make Bucky laugh? Someone who gets so passionate about the things he loves and just as much about the ones he despises? Who cares deeply, laughs with his whole body and who next to all this softness and kindness, is also a stubborn little asshole? Who — and this is the most important of all — adores Alex and whom she adores just as much?

Bucky's heart was a lost cause from the start.

Steve has a lot of qualities that Bucky would fall for if he looked for a partner. And that he accidentally might have fallen for anyway. And that's all without even mentioning that Steve is so ridiculously attractive that it might've skewed Bucky's view on beauty forever. 

The point is — Natasha is right. That this could be a good thing. They could be a good thing. But what they have now is already good and Bucky really values this friendship. He isn't sure if pursuing a hypothetical picture in his head is worth putting it at risk. Because he still can't be sure if Steve's interested. For what Bucky knows, he's kind and caring towards all of his friends. It doesn't mean that Bucky and Alex are special. 

He can almost hear Natasha's voice in his head, calling him an idiot and yelling that he won't know until he tries. Which is right, since Natasha always is. It doesn't help him stop the — partially excited but mostly terrified — somersaults his insides make. With a small sigh, he puts the drawing on its place by the lamp, flicks off the lights and burrows himself under the covers. He doesn't have to have everything figured out straight away. Letting himself even consider it is a big enough step for now, he decides as he drifts off to sleep.

.

The next day is Bucky's last day at work before the Christmas break. He doesn't really have much to do, just finishing some last updates and dealing with whatever paperwork he was putting off earlier. Most of the time, he chats with Scott, who has been wandering aimlessly around the institute for the lack of work and eventually landed in Bucky's tiny office. They've been chatting about their Christmas plans — nothing too elaborate for both of them, just simple time at home with their families — and now they started discussing where they should go to grab some lunch. Just as Bucky almost convinced Scott that they should go to this sushi place down the block instead of the Italian place, there's a knock on the door.

Bucky sends his friend a confused look.

"It wasn't me," Scott raises his hands in defence.

"Come in," Bucky calls after another second passes. It's probably someone having a last-minute computer problem or one of his co-workers wanting to drop by with Christmas wishes.

Except, when the door cracks open, Steve's head pokes in. Its hair is messy, its cheeks reddened from the cold and its lips spread in a smile.

"Hi, Buck. And hi Scott, it's nice to see you again," he says. "I'm not interrupting?"

And because Bucky's brain is still processing the fact that for some reason Steve's come to visit him at work, Scott's the one who says, "Not at all, come in."

Steve hesitates for another second. Bucky's brain finally kicks in and he smiles which is apparently the invitation Steve needed, because he finally fully walks into the office.

"Hi, Steve. I didn't expect you here," Bucky says, his smile growing bigger.

"Well, you should. Because after our talk yesterday, I decided to bring you lunch," Steve says, proudly showing a big paper bag in his hand. "I told you you haven't seen shit, and especially not overdramatic me."

This makes Bucky laugh out loud as he shakes his head in disbelief. How is Steve even real?

Scott is watching them with a slightly confused but endeared smile on his face. Before anyone can say anything, he gets up from the chair, slapping his thighs as he does.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it," he says, walking towards the door.

"There's plenty to share, if you want to join us," Steve offers, because of course he does. His gold-heartedness wouldn't have it any other way.

But Scott only shakes his head at that. "Nah, I'm in the mood for some sushi today. Thanks, though."

"Asshole," Bucky narrows his eyes at Scott. "I hope you'd choke on it."

His friend only laughs at that, "Enjoy your lunch date! It's been great to see you, Steve. Merry Christmas."

"You too, Scott. Say hi to Hope and Cassie from me."

With one last grin aimed at Bucky — and a very pointed look behind Steve's back — Scott leaves them alone. Bucky tries not to dwell on the fact that Steve didn't even bat an eye when Scott called it a lunch date.

"Why should he choke?" Steve asks with a chuckle.

"I've been trying to talk him into going to that sushi place for almost twenty minutes before you came," Bucky sighs and then notices that Steve is still hovering by the door. "Come on, take your coat off and sit down. I can't believe you've brought me lunch."

Steve shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the hanger by the door, next to Bucky's. Today he's wearing a maroon sweater that really suits him and a pair of dark jeans. He pushes his sleeves up before he digs into the bag and Bucky tries not to stare too obviously.

"Someone's got to make sure you eat, since after yesterday I've gotten an idea you're not good at it yourself," Steve says. "Guess it wasn't necessary. Sadly, I don't have sushi but maybe you're in the mood for Thai?"

"Depends on whether you've brought me the dumplings or not," Bucky answers.

Steve laughs in response and takes out one of the boxes and hands it to Bucky. "I did. I also have green curry for you? I hope I remembered correctly that you like it? If not, I'm sorry, we can switch—"

"Steve." Bucky says solemnly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, to stop him from fumbling with the food. "You not only brought me food but you remembered my favourite after I mentioned it one time. You are an angel. You should hide it better, because you make us mortals look bad."

He's only half joking. Steve does seem like a higher being of some sorts and it's unfair that Bucky's poor heart is supposed to handle it. It doesn't do a great job. Especially not when Steve laughs, his eyes crinkle so much they turn into thin slits.

"And I am the overdramatic one?" Steve asks, unpacking the last things and finally sitting on the chair across from Bucky. He's still smiling but there's a blush colouring his cheeks and creeping down his neck.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to contain a grin but the truth is, he's immensely proud of himself for pulling this reaction out of Steve. To stop himself from saying something stupid, he digs into his food.

"By the way, how did you find me here?" Bucky asks, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration as he fishes for a dumpling with his chopsticks. 

"Clara let me know where your office is, she was very helpful."

Bucky furrows his brows. The surprise makes him drop his dumpling back into the container. "Clara, as in Clara Oswald, our receptionist? How do you know her?"

"I don't. We've chatted for a few minutes and I explained why I'm here and she told me how to get to you."

"Ah, of course it took you about five minutes to charm her and get into a government building just like that," Bucky chuckles.

"I didn't charm anyone! I just politely asked and she helped!"

If it wasn't Steve, Bucky would take it as fake modesty. But the truth is that Steve really seems to be completely oblivious to the effect he has on people. It’s endearing to see him do this.

"So here's when you do your cool space stuff?" Steve asks, changing the subject.

"Here's when the real scientists come searching for help when there's some IT-related issue," Bucky corrects him. "I don't do anything cool. I make sure all the data is where it's supposed to be and that whatever equipment they need is ready and working properly. Or part of it, Scott's an engineer and he takes care of the rest. I do get to read some space facts first hand, though."

"That's still cool space stuff for me," Steve shrugs with a small smile. "What kinds of things are you researching here? Like some particular aspects of outer space, or—?"

Normally Bucky would just give the shortest answer possible. People usually get bored quickly when he starts talking about it. But something in the genuine interest on Steve's face, the way he is looking around the office — which is nothing special, the only nice things are the sky maps and some spaced themed art  — makes Bucky think that maybe Steve wouldn't mind getting the longer answer.

"Well, we mostly study the weather. Both the Earth's and the one in the solar system, like the solar winds and magnetic storms, stuff like that. We study exoplanets and try to discover or guess as much as we can about them," Bucky says. "I helped to create simulations that predicted how they could look like and develop, to see if there's a possibility to inhabit them. We did it by basically dumping all the data we have into an elaborate computer programme and waiting to see what comes out." Bucky laughs and Steve does too, but he has the look of utter fascination on his face as he listens. "And all this helps with some more down-to-earth stuff — pun not intended. Like, we've done tons of studies in climate change."

"That's—," Steve starts when he makes sure that Bucky's done. "All of this sounds incredible. And you're a part of all those amazing things, how great is that?"

Bucky feels that his cheeks start to burn. There's another reason he usually sticks with the short answer. As much as he's proud to be working here and as much as he loves it, the impostor in him always makes sure that he understands the difference between his work and the actual research, analysis and all the heavy lifting that the astronomers do. He helps, of course he does. He does a great job at it, but there's still a difference. And such praise usually makes him squirm uncomfortably.

"And don't even try to get all modest with me again," Steve warns as if he's been reading Bucky's mind. "You've said that you don't do cool space stuff and then admitted that you've helped to create a program to imagine how exoplanets can look and change. So I know you're full of bullshit."

Steve raises an eyebrow in what's supposed to be an unimpressed look but it's not even close. The smile and the curious, bright eyes that are stating right at Bucky are destroying the effect. The blush on Bucky's cheeks only deepens, especially as Steve adds. "I've been impressed before but— Wow. Really, you guys are doing such incredible things here, I can’t wrap my head around it."

"We really do," Bucky agrees, eventually.

The beaming smile Steve sends him feels like a reward Bucky didn't know he deserves.

"So you've always liked space? Or was it an accident that brought you here?" Steve asks.

"No, I've always loved it. It's just so fascinating and there's always so much more to learn about it," Bucky doesn't even try to hide his excitement. "I've never fully understood all the science behind it but I loved staring at the sky, trying to find all those constellations and planets and galaxies. I've figured a way to somehow connect it to what I was good at and make it my job. Which is amazing. But now I mostly stare at the computer screen instead of the stars. "

He doesn't want to sound ungrateful but he must admit that it does kill some of the fun. But not even the astronomers simply state up at the sky to admire the view.

Steve only nods in response. "Alex mentioned that you guys went on a trip out of town to watch the stars. It must've been great."

"We did! It was like… almost 2 years ago, I think? I borrowed one of those fancy telescopes they have here. I needed to pick Alex up every time, cause she was too small to reach it," Bucky laughs as he brings out the memories. "It was fun, we should do that again, sometime. But I don't have much time now, so it’ll have to wait."

"It does sound great," Steve smiles that soft smile again. "I hope you'd find some time as it gets warm enough for such trips. I bet Alex would be delighted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, in case you'd like to join," Bucky says before he can think better of it.

There's more of the childlike excitement on Steve's face as Bucky mentions it so maybe it wasn't that bad of an idea.

An actual bad idea comes out of Bucky's mouth a bit later, just as Steve is getting ready to head out. Bucky's lunch break is long gone and forgotten, because it's been two hours that Steve spent here. He apologises for staying so long and the assurances that Bucky didn't have any more work to do doesn't help.

"I'm sorry for taking your mind away from your responsibilities, but it was great spending time with you," Steve says.

So of course, because Bucky's heart doesn't get any chance to regroup, he doesn't have time to think before he blurts out. "We should have dinner together."

It's certainly not something Steve was expecting to hear. He just stares at Bucky. Before he has a chance to say anything, Bucky continues, "I mean. You should come for dinner. Clint and Nat are always around for a dinner, sometime between Christmas and New Year's. If you don't have any plans, it would be great if you came. But it's okay if you can't or don't want to."

Another moment passes and Bucky tries not to squirm under Steve's gaze. Luckily, Steve finally blinks and smiles as he says, "No, Buck, of course I'd love to come! I don't have any particular plans, will probably hang out with Sam for most of the break but I'll have plenty of time."

"You could take Sam with you," Bucky adds. He desperately tries to regain the control of his own mouth. "It'd be great to finally meet him."

"I'll let him know, I bet he’d be happy to come, too. Thanks again for the invite," Steve smiles as he cracks open the door. With a little wave, he walks out of the office. "Bye, Buck. Have a nice day."

"You too, Steve," Bucky says to the already closing door.

When Steve's gone, Bucky exhales heavily through his mouth as he leans back in his chair. Both of his hands go up to thread through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Apparently, he has a dinner to prepare.

taglist: @steverrogers​ @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk​ @buckyshappyending

[hournites]

The Beth Text

Hournite fic (Stargirl)

Summary: When Beth has an emergency, Hourman climbs through her bedroom window.

Read on ao3

~.~

Beth: Rick, I need you. 

~.~

Rick tumbled through her bedroom window, nearly breaking the frame. The glass shook like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to shatter or not, and the flap of her curtains blew up dramatically from the gust of wind. Hourman’s golden cape fell askew in his haste. His eyes darted up, alert in his mask as he oriented himself, sunken elbows-deep in her fuzzy floor carpet.

“Beth!?”

Beth had never heard Rick so panic-struck before. She cringed, feeling bad as she dragged the bag out of her closet through all of her clothes. “In here!”

Quick on his feet, he scanned the room for Cindy or Sportsmaster or another ISA member as if they’d jump out from under her bed.  

Beth pulled out four green plastic packs of X-Pression Bahama Curls from out of the bag and waved them at him. 

Rick stared at her, lost.

It took a good moment as Beth brought in her full-sized mirror to prop up against her vanity for him to be comfortable with the idea that he could let his guard down enough to not assume this wasn’t some sort of sneak ISA attack. Beth was fine.  

He let out a breath he might've been holding too long then narrowed his eyes at her accusingly. “You said there was an emergency.”

“I didn’t say it was an emergency,” Beth replied, tongue in cheek.

Although it totally was one. After Yolanda got caught upside down in that barbed wire that afternoon, Beth had to rush home to finish her math assignment—Without Chuck’s help, she needed to get quadratics right properly for a Chuck-free test— and that ate up so much time she yelped when she realized how close it was to midnight. So she texted Rick. It seemed like the next best option. The first one wasn't worth mentioning.

“I said I needed you.”

“For what?”

Beth smiled brightly at him. “My hair!” She gestured at her braid extensions and crochet latch hook needle in an array on her bed. “They take forever to do on my own, and my hand starts cramping before I’m even halfway done.”

“You want me to use my hour on your hair?”

“Please?” The day was almost over so it wasn't like it would be a risk, and by some stroke of luck, he didn't use it today.

Rick muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch as he peeled his mask off his face. Beth did a little celebratory dance from her bed. If he really wanted to leave he would’ve already been back out the window. 

“Are your parents home?” He looked down at his very obvious JSA—ness. The tight suit, the big emblem belt, the boots. As far as discretion went—it didn’t. Just because Courtney’s parents are cool with hosting teen superheroes at weird hours didn’t mean it was the same for the rest of theirs. 

She smiled and patted a seat for him on her crisp blue duvet. “Not until five in the morning. Night shifts.”

Chuck was on her nightstand where she left him, forgotten in favour of Youtube procuring a how-to video so she could share it with him in a regular way. 

“Rick,” she pleaded in a soft voice when he didn’t move. She discovered recently if she widened her eyes at him, a look would pass his face that yielded him to her knees. And in that precious pocket of time, Beth could lull even his angriest thoughts of war to a whisper. It always baffled Courtney, who tried to replicate her model of calming Rick down after Beth's with little sway.  Yolanda called it Witchcraft™️. Beth wasn't afraid to use it, but she worried sometimes in the heat of a battle if it was taking advantage of him. 

He sighed again and rolled his eyes in a way Beth knew was harmless. 

He kicked off his boots and yanked off his gloves.“How long did you say this takes?”

Beth made a face at the memory of the length of her last hair appointment. “Three hours?” 

“Oh my god.” He approached her, successfully coaxed in. 

“Well!” she added quickly. “I don’t have super strong fingers! That’s why I texted you! It’ll probably be a lot faster with your help.” 

Kneeling on her bed, he sat cluelessly, hands hovering over her thick, kinky hair. It wasn’t witchcraft. Rick trusted her. She never took that lightly.

 Maybe his fingers wouldn’t tire looping the braids in or holding the needle at weird angles for too long, but he was afraid of tugging too hard. He’d totalled a car before, Hourman wasn’t exactly delicate.

 As if she read his mind, she guided his hand to the part she’d just made with her wide comb. 

“I have a strong scalp,” she reassured him. “Just don’t yank and it should be fine.”

“...Okay,” he whispered still unsure, but after an informative tutorial and demonstration by Beth that he studied carefully, they went to work.

 “Why do you want these in?” He was six loops in and a lot more comfortable. He tackled her right side as she took on the left, keeping that part down the middle. He was better at this than she thought he would be, nimble fingers pulling through every time with the crochet tool. “Do you not like how it looks?” He tugged on the piece he was working on. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah.”

 “I do,” she said. “But it’s been a really long time since I’ve done anything more than a perm for our family pictures. Elementary school.”

“I remember.”

“My family portraits?” She frowned curiously. “I don’t think I’ve ever pointed those out.” Although surely he’d heard her talk about them on FaceTime calls to her parents every October in the cafeteria. And they hung on the wall of her staircase. He’d been here a couple of times since the JSA rebranded. It might’ve been an obvious object for Rick to notice, just something Beth had been blind to.  

“No, your braids,” he clarified. “Two thick ones down the back from second to fifth grade. They were cute.”

 Rick continued with his twist, concentrating intently. She watched him, stopping her own braid as he finished his down her back. Was she touched or stung or perplexed? She wanted Chuck to help her navigate her feelings. Beth couldn’t decide. 

“What?” he said. 

 “I didn’t think you noticed.”

 “We’ve been in every class together since we were seven.”

 “You never talked to me.” 

 Nobody ever talked to me, she wanted to say. 

 Rick lowered his hand, meeting her gaze through their reflection in her mirror. It was quite the image. A black teen girl in a washed-out grey tank and shorts sitting in front of her towering white, lean and reluctant hairdressing superhero. Beth’s lightbulb burnt out the other day and her dad never got around to fixing it, the dimly lit bedroom and late-hour made it all the more striking. And now they were venturing onto deep JSA taboo talks. Yolanda’s scandal. Court’s father. Rick’s bruises. Mr. Dugan's Starman. Henry’s mother. Beth’s bitterly pathetic history of social aptitude. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 “I know.” The hourglass sand trickled steadily into its base. “Beth, I’m sorry.”

 She touched his spandex-clad knee. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she wore a tight smile, despite her sudden pressing urge to cry.

 “Rick. I’m not mad at you.” She uttered a soft laugh at the gentle way he stroked her hair in response, relief even. “It was never you. You still sat beside me all those years before Yolanda.”

“I never realized you were mad at all.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.”

“It’s not,” he replied, taking over her side of the part. He didn’t even need to refer to the youtube video or her completed braids anymore. She tried to help him but he knocked her hand away. She rested them over her knees after a moment of letting them hang in the air. 

“You’ve always been so...Beth.”

 “So Beth?” she repeated incredulously, smirking a little. 

He got hot under his collar, shifting in his position with a flush. “Shut up,” he said so uselessly she actually laughed out loud. “You know what I mean.” He was running out of time, but her hair was almost all done anyway. “Helpful and cheery and full of smiles without spite, even when people rejected you. Even if they don't deserve you.”

“Not everyone hurts the same way, Rick.”

“Yeah.” 

She knew he knew that now, experienced it firsthand growing close to her, Courtney, Henry and Yolanda. 

“My mom told me when I was little, that the last thing the person that hates you wants to see is your smile.” 

Rick reeled back. 

She frowned at herself. “I faked it a lot at first. But the more I smiled, the happier I felt with myself. The more I found joy in the small things in my life...Even if I was lonely.” 

Two arms wrapped around her middle from behind her, surprising Beth out of her internal monologue. Rick dropped his head against her shoulder.

 Beth had touched Rick a hundred of fleeting times. She fell into his arms or yanked him back from a rash fistfight, high-fived or brushed his fingers when passing school notes. She'd wrapped bandages around his purpling knuckles. Even reached for his hand a couple of scary times. 

 This was not that. 

This felt warm and spell-binding, even with the huge hourglass pressed against her back. Slowly, she reached up to run her hand through his brown mussed white boy hair, feeling the silk of his cape and hood. Rick shuddered at her touch and said something else, muffled into her skin. It was like he ached for this, needed it deep in his bones or soul. Beth didn’t know what to do. Or if there was anything to do. She had never been this close to a boy before. She had never been this close, physically, with anybody. Maybe the girls had it wrong. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. But the lightheaded dizzy feeling with Rick's breathing near enough to hear was not something she ever wanted to let go of.

Maybe Beth was the bewitched one.  

His time ran out. He held her just the same. It was nice to know it was possible, she thought wistfully. That Rick Tyler could be as intimate and secure without some external source of strength. 

“Thank you for spending your hour with me.” 

She turned around, and her hair moved freely with her head, shoulder-length and new. It weighed heavily. A tension headache crept into her temples from her edges, though she wouldn’t tell him because they weren’t of any fault of Rick. Twists and braids always had a certain ache to them on the first day. It was late too, Beth just needed a good sleep. It didn’t seem hard, now. Something about this hug made her peacefully sleepy. 

“Your welcome,” he said, his eyes softening upon hers once again. 

She didn’t even have to pull her sorcery moves. She could already hear Yolanda’s voice in her head. Double Witchcraft!™️

Lucky Beth. 

“Let me know what kind of an emergency I’m getting myself into next time. I’ll be there.”  

"Even if it's just my hair?" she joked. 

"Yes," he said. It sounded like a lingering promise. She hoped he knew it went both ways.   

"Okay." Beth closed her eyes and hummed. "I'll text when I need you." 

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Eight, "The In Between"

Word Count: 6.1k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses (click to listen)

P.S. - Next chapter will be coming on March 23rd, but I only know this because I've written it already :P Otherwise, I know that they are pretty random which I'm sorry for. Thanks for reading!

"People live with things they don't talk about hidden in their heart."

- Un-Go アンゴ

There, I stop, because I realize what I’ve done. I hear it in my words and in her weeping, the step that I shouldn’t have taken. Without knowing, I spoke in present tense, and knew that I’d only made it worse. It reminded us of what we couldn’t have- what we wouldn’t have. What should’ve been. Should be.

Her head shook from side to side, although belatedly. Her cries had quieted at moments too, that is until her head dove back against my chest, and they returned. I held her there, pressing my lips to her head and closing my eyes, being sucked back into my thoughts. The should’ve-beens made a regretful comeback, and as each one paid a reminder to me, so did a tear down each cheek.

Two Weeks Earlier

Despite the sunshine pouring in through the window, the sight of the glittering snow outside my window chilled me to the bone. Wrapping my arms around myself didn’t help as the cold seeped in through my cardigan.

“Cold, again?” somebody chuckles from over my shoulder.

“Yeah. God, can you turn up the heat in this place, or what?”

“I dunno, you’ve already had me turn it up three degrees t’day. Not sure my Dad brain will allow me anymo.’ Yer gonna make me heatin’ bill skyrocket here soon.”

“Harry,” I giggle, looking behind me to catch his face just in time for him to surprise me with a hug from behind. “Come on, the baby and I are cold. You better soon, or else I’m buying a space heater for my office.”

“Yer gonna be usin’ that kid as an excuse fer ev’rythin.’ Arentcha, Becks?” a shiver runs down my spine at the feeling of his beard against my temple, but it doesn’t compare to his freezing hands on my stomach.

“Yes, because are you trying to make me turn into an icicle with those hands of yours?”

“What, I jus’ got back from lunch. ‘s winter outside, don’t y’know?”

“Wow, I had no idea,” I reply snarkily with a nod to my window before us.

“Watch it, sassy pants, or ‘ll keep those churros fer myself.”

The scoff is already curling my lips when I turn around, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would,” Harry contests, raising a brow at me until it all dissolves into his wheezy laughter. “Hey, put that pout away, sweetheart.”

“Don’t try to butter me up, mister,” I mutter, turning away from his waiting arms. His tongue clicks in response but I ignore it, starting for my phone that rings.

“Becks, I was only kiddin.’ Y’know I wouldn’t take away yer churros, love, they’re yer favourite,” he begins, but for some reason that really annoyed me. It doesn’t help when he takes hold of my hand, rooting me to the spot. “Hey, Crabby Pants, yer phone can wait. They can leave a message, but I wanna talk t’ my fiance.”

“What?” I mumble, facing him at last. The corners of his lips lift, and his contagious happiness is hard to resist.

“‘m sorry fer teasin’ you. ‘ll see ‘bout turnin’ tha heat up on this side, and yer churros are waitin’ in me office. ‘d never deprive my baby’s mum o’ her favourite food. No, not my wifey.”

“You better not,” I sigh, giggling against his lips when they press to mine. The gold flecks in his sage-colored irises catch the light when he looks down at me. Sometimes, I still wonder how the sunshine on his face could all be for me.

“I won’t,” Harry hums, reminding me of his own little ray of sunshine when his hand comes to my belly. “Ya should be careful with those churros, I think yer startin’ t’ show.”

“Am not.”

“Are to. Ya had a li’l bump this mornin’ when we were gettin’ ready. I saw it in tha mirror in tha bathroom when you were changin.’ Cutest thing I ever did see,” he coos, painting my face in thick strokes with that radiant smile of his. “Boobs are gettin’ bigger and bum too. ‘m likin’ this whole pregnant thing on you mo’ and mo’ ev’ry day.”

“Of course, you are,” I whisper, feeling the smile drain from my lips when the light catches it. The doctor said they’d fade with time, but three months on and the pink lines still won’t let me forget that nightmare I can’t escape. I saw them every day, in the shower with him or when I watched him get dressed beside me in the bathroom. The mornings when I woke up before him and dragged a finger across his tattoos. He was lucky that none of them were ruined by the numerous stitches, but they got by unscathed. I just wish I could say the same for everything else, for me.

“Hey, where’d that pretty smile go?” Blinking, I focus my gaze back on the dimples that fall into his cheeks.

“Your scars, they’re still . . ,” my train of thought disappears, because it’s nothing that I haven’t said before.

“Still there. I know, they jus’ don’t go away, buggie.” Frowning, his words sink in, but for maybe the fifth time. With a huff, I distract myself with the cream tie dotted with blush flowers that he picked out today. “Hey you, dontchu roll those pretty eyes at me.”

“I’m not.”

“But you are. ‘s it ‘cos somebody hasn’t had her churros yet this week?” his whiny voice grazes my ears from above. It’s difficult, but I control my lips and busy myself with picking a loose thread from his tie. “Becks, I see that smile,” he continues in a mocking tone, and soon I’m giggling against his neck as his nose drags along mine.

“‘Kay, baby, ‘m gonna go and grab yer lunch befo’ my meetin’.”

I whisper a ‘thanks’ against his lips before watching him disappear into the hallway. It’s not often, but my office is quiet, absent of the constant sounds of keys clicking, phones ringing, and a certain somebody being quite good at distracting me. Crossing the room, I plop down in front of my computer. The new messages showing on the side jump at my attention, but what grabs it is the picture frame beside it. With a smile that makes my cheeks ache, I pick it up to admire for the tenth time today. I’m sure that I’ll hit one hundred here, sooner or later.

“Think I like yer frame better, y’know.”

“Really?” I respond, lifting my eyes to Harry who sets down a greasy taco bag on my desk, a protein shake on the side. Don’t even get me started on how he’s already the nagging Dad.

“Ya, like the color and phrase better,” he notes, making me squirm from his hand on my side. It’s forgotten when it travels over to my belly, the exact place I hadn’t realized I’d laid a hand on too. “Can hardly believe it’ll be four months in two and a half weeks. We’re almost halfway there.”

“I know, it’s crazy to me.”

His mumbled agreement comes as I trace the lines of our baby’s profile over the frame’s glass partition. The same frame had sat on my desk for a while now, often updated with the newest sonogram picture after our latest ultrasound. One similar to it sat on Harry’s desk too, both a present from him. Several more occupied our fridge, phone lockscreens at times, and I’m sure in similar forms at both of our parents’ houses.

“Me too. I can’t wait tho,’ t’ be a dad.”

I didn’t think that my smile could get any bigger, but when I tip my head up to look at Harry hovering there, somehow it does.

“You’re going to be the best daddy.”

Sunshine fills every inch of his face, especially in the dimples caved into his cheeks. I hope our baby has those. Please.

“Why thank you. I feel rather lucky my kids get t’ have such a wonderful mummy too,” he notes with a quick wink, sponging a kiss to my forehead warmly. A few moments pass of admiring the picture until his voice interrupts my thoughts again. “Yer sure ‘s okay ‘m helpin’ My’ with that case in Bedford comin’ up?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Won’t miss me too much, will you?”

Now, I don’t even bother to hide the way that I roll my eyes at him, accompanied by a sound of disgust. His nose wrinkles before his face creases in annoyance.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I almost retort with a joking tone, until I melt at the way he rubs his nose against mine in what some call a kiss. “We’ve been over this, Harry, it’s fine. Skye can stay the night with me if I get lonely, or something. I know an opportunity to have another win against your arch enemy can’t be passed up.”

This time, I really stumped him. It brings a song to my lips, because it’s not often that I get to surprise him anymore. Sometimes, I miss those days, but I’d never go back to them. No, we didn’t have the sweet honeymoon period of first meeting, it was the total opposite. I’d never give up where we’d finally gotten to now, engaged and expecting a baby in a little over five months.

“He ‘s not.”

Still, the crease between his eyebrows remains and I only want to laugh more, “Is too. Malakai Watters is your arch enemy, Harry. You’ve been griping about him since I first met you, no excuse about it is going to work on me.”

Shaking his head, I already hear the argument coming my way, “Watters ‘sn’t my enemy, you silly one, he never has been. ‘ve never had any enemies.”

“Lies and more lies. I’m pretty sure we were enemies once, but you’ll excuse that one too.”

“Eh, I think I can agree with that one,” his face has relaxed and so has his shoulders that rise and fall softly. The green in his eyes lights up when he cracks a laugh from above, despite still being upside down for me. At last, he spins me around and pins me with his hands planted on my armrests. He always has to hog those, at movies and in the car. “Enemies? I dunno ‘bout that word, but you drove me bloody mad in the beginnin,’ so much so ‘s a wonder ‘m marryin’ you now. Wouldn’t have believed anybody if they’d told me back then you’d become my bride. Snotty li’l Holte, me personal assistant.”

“Harry!” comes my exclamation, and like always, followed by his innocent giggle. Innocent, my ass.

“Hey, you were jus’ as guilty, Becks, don’t go denyin’ it. You did everythin’ in the fuckin’ book t’ push me buttons.”

I’m laughing before him and unsure of how to stop until grabbing hold of his neck to press my lips to his. His laugh buzzes against my mouth, cinnamon sugar sticking to his lips. That little churro thief. The gold in his eyes is sparkling when we separate, my cheeks aching once more.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” my question comes in a mumbled sigh, eyes darting between his reddening cheeks and glistening eyes. Wait, what? “Harry, why are you crying?”

“Have I ever told you how lucky I am t’ have you tho’?” Giggling for a reason I don’t know why, I lose myself in those neverending greens for the hundredth time.

“Perhaps, but another time wouldn’t hurt my ego.”

A wry titter escapes his lips for just a second when the first tear glides down his cheek. One that I immediately catch with the pad of my thumb.

“No, I mean it. We fought like cats and dogs when we first met, and we hated each other,” he goes on in a voice leaking of that molasses once more. Mine begin to part until his terse shaking head tells me ‘no.’ “Hush you, don’t you lie either. I know we hated each other’s guts nearly, but outta nowhere, you became my best friend. A few hundred hiccups between then and now, and look at us, gettin’ hitched and havin’ a baby.”

“Yeah,” is all that I can come up with. More like the only words I can shove past my lips. Ones that already tremble from the emotion spilled from his sunshine eyes. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Reckon I have you t’ thank that fer, and loads mo,’” he corrects with wrinkled brows and a rub to my belly. Memories swim behind my eyelids as I kiss him back, hoping that if this is a dream after all, that I never have to wake up.

/

I wasn’t sure where I was anymore. No, this place I had never seen before with my two eyes, visited in my dreams, or travelled to in a book. Looking around me for some clue as to where I was, all I could see was golden trees, robin blue cloudless skies, and sunlight pouring in from every corner. It shined on my face and filled me with a warmth, one that I felt underneath my bare feet. When I peered down, my hands habitually went to my stomach but I found that it was completely flat once more.

A question filled my head instantly at the discovery, one that joined the many others of where I was, and everything that was around me. It all fell away instantly when something else took place inside of my head. I could never describe it to anybody or put my finger on it, but that feeling of mine told me that I wasn’t alone. Still with my hands on my stomach, I looked back up and found a young girl walking towards me. Sunlight shone down on her, following her as she walked through the kneehigh grass dotted with flowers. For a reason I couldn’t name, I didn’t want to look away from her in case she disappeared, but my attention was drawn to the beautiful field we were suddenly in. Wild flowers tickled my legs, reaching up to the lilac dress that fell to my knees and hugged the curve of my shoulders.

At the sound of rustling nearby, I glanced upwards once more to find her stopping a few feet away from me. There it was still, that feeling of mine, and as I stood there looking at her beaming up at me, I felt the way it filled my insides. There was something about her that I couldn’t figure out, but I feel like I should know who she is. I tried as I looked into her olive green eyes that sparkled with the secret she knew and I didn’t. A divot fell into one of her freckled cheeks as they rounded from her spreading lips. It sat there on the tip of my tongue as my feet led me forward, as if she was calling me to her. I didn’t know why or how I could, but I felt as if I knew her. This is what brought my hand forth to cradle her cheek, and thumb at the dark ringlets tickling her heart-shaped face.

She couldn’t be more than seven, a few years older than Harper. The second the thought appeared inside of my head, I wanted to shake it, knowing it couldn’t be. But as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around me, I felt the wetness descend onto my cheeks as she surrounded me with her sunshine like warmth. It felt as if I was hugging my younger self, because she was a spitting image of what I looked like, save for those green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my dress where she nuzzled her head into my chest.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked in return, rubbing circles into her shoulder where the sleeves of her green dress ended, the same shade as her eyes. She didn’t offer an answer, only squeezed me tight before pulling away to look at me with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?” the words spilled out when a tear raced down her cheek, her smile disappearing.

Again, she didn’t answer me, only hastily encircling me once again with her arms. Once more, questions danced around in my head, chasing answers that wouldn’t come, subconsciously or from this little girl. Somehow, I knew her and felt close to her, but I didn’t know how or why. She was beautiful and so sweet, I already knew but I wasn’t sure how.

An ache filled my chest when the next words left her lips, ones that I couldn’t begin to understand. “I’ll miss you.”

Instead of uttering another question that would go unanswered, I held onto her tighter, trying to make out what she had called me at the end there. It was a name, but not one I could remember now. The songs of birds flying overhead surrounded us, as did the trickling of a nearby stream, and a hummed song that I knew from somewhere. One he would always sing to me, but for some reason, I couldn’t recall who he was now.

“Who are-,” my long awaited question came, but it was torn away when I looked down to find my arms empty. In a confused blink, the grassy field decorated with flowers and sunshine was gone.

At my feet, sat cold tiling and the birds were no more. So was the sunshine and warmth. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around me, feeling very cold all of a sudden. Belatedly, I looked up and at my surroundings, wondering where I was now. A dimmed, empty room stared back at me, quiet from the sounds of the world until one broke through the silence.

A cry pierced my ears, and made me spin around. A door stood across the room to my right, where the sound came from. Without knowing what I was doing, my bare feet padded across the chilly floor, and I twisted the handle. Another room awaited me, but this one wasn’t empty. Nor was I alone.

Rows upon rows of hospital cribs stared back at me, little bundles of blankets sat in each one. Babies. They all were quiet except for one. My feet led me in that direction without me knowing it, because there it was again. My feeling. It guided me towards the sound, one that grabbed hold onto something deep inside of me. I knew what it was and what I heard, it was clear as day.

A smile shot up into my cheeks when I stopped at the cradle that held a squirming, crying baby. Its pink face was pinched from wailing, a blush colored hat covering its head as a striped blanket hid its body. But as I reached out to pick them up, I blinked and they were gone. Stepping back, I stumbled and righted myself. Where did they go?

Where’s my baby?

Tears clung to my eyelashes, blurring my vision as I stared at the empty crib. A divot in the miniature mattress stared back at me, and so did something else. My bottom lip wobbled as a briny tear ran over it, but it came to shake harder when I read the name card stuck to the inside of the rolling crib.

Annie S.

Before me, my hand trembled as I reached into the crib, feeling the corner of the card before-

“Becks, lovebug,” a voice murmurs, and the image is ripped away from me. With a jolt, I feel the warmth of a hand on my shoulder, rubbing a line down my back. I’m glad to have been woken up by him and torn away from that nightmare, but at the same time, I’m not. I wanted answers. “It’s time to get up and have a shower, my love. It’s six-thirty, you have to wake up soon so we can go to work.”

Gulping, nothing will go down as a ball sits in my throat. Peeling my eyes open, Harry and I’s familiar bedroom materializes before me. With a ragged breath that races to fill my lungs, a wetness paints my cheeks.

“You can sleep for a little longer, bug, but I’m going to hop in the shower, if you want to join me,” his whisper comes against my temple. Hastily, I turn to bury my face into the pillow, hiding my wet eyes. “Okay then, but you have to be up in half an hour,” Harry finishes, pressing his warm lips to the top of my head.

As I listen to the sound of his parting footsteps, I grasp onto the covers tightly. Only when I hear the spray of the shower and him close the door behind him, do I let loose my sobs into the pillow. I lie there, wondering, why the tears and what is that dream supposed to mean? I’d had weird pregnancy dreams before, vivid ones even, but nothing like that. No, never.

Who was that little girl, and how did I know her? And where had my baby gone, I think to myself as I rub at my belly, worrying away.

/

“Ree, what do you mean you’re not getting married?”

Rolling my eyes could not begin to convey the thoughts racing through my head, born out of her exclamation.

“Of course, I’m getting married, Skye. What, are you daft? That’s not

what I’ve said at all, if you’d been listening,” I tut with an unruly shake of my head, snapping the cap back onto the honey bottle. “You asked when the wedding was, and all I’ve said is that Harry and I don’t know with everything that’s changed. We had a date for August but cancelled it after we found out about the baby.”

The sofa sighs when I plop onto it, leaving my steaming mug on the table. My best friend of over twenty years tsks beside me, biting off the side of a cookie. Her faux disappointment is all but lost on her when her eyes brighten, cookie crumbs soon falling from her hands.

“Speaking of, let’s see that bump. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” she nearly squeals, reaching forward to lift my shirt.

“Goodness, Skye, assault me much? All you’ve got to do is ask, don’t need to be undressing me now,” my response comes in a giggle, one that soon falls away when her hands fly to her mouth. My lips soon slide into a smirk that I find hard to control at the sight of her, after lifting my shirt the rest of the way.

“Bloody hell, you do have a bump, and it’s getting big! Fuck, I wish my boobs were as big as yours. Totally unfair, that is.”

“I dunno what you and Harry are on about, I hardly see anything,” I remark with a shrug, the smile staying when her hand comes to rub my pale stomach. “I just look bloated.”

“Ree, come on,” she scoffs with a tilt to her lips that to my surprise, remains quiet as she stares at my stomach. “It’s more than just bloated, you idiot. You’re pregnant, you’re having a baby. Sure, it takes a while to show, but you’re starting to!”

“Hardly,” I chuckle, dropping my blouse once she leaned back against the pillow with her cup of joe. “It’s weird being at this awkward stage where I’m pregnant but I don’t look pregnant.”

“I can imagine, but hold on. Take a few steps back to the ‘not knowing when you’re getting married’ part. Do you and Harry really not know?”

“How are we supposed to?” it comes out in a laugh, not as I’d expected at all. “I’m due to pop this baby out around the same time we had it planned for in the first place.”

“So,” she begins whilst blowing on her coffee. Something clicks inside of me when that happens, along with the raise of her brow. “You’re just happy with waiting, and not knowing when it’ll be? That doesn’t sound like you, Ree.”

“Thanks for being depressing, Skye,” I try to say with a laugh, but it doesn’t go over well, because I can’t find one. No, if there was anybody else in the world who could read me like a book, it’s my first grade best friend. “No, I’m not really happy about waiting, but I’m excited about this baby, and what is being married besides vowing to date each other forever? No, it actually is okay. We’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll randomly go to the courthouse one day- don’t worry, you’ll be invited, if we do. Or just wait and make it grand- you know, once I lose the baby weight or something.” I sip from my peppermint tea with a hand on my bump, knowing that I couldn’t be happier, but still wondering how we’re going to do all of this.

“Don’t be so sad, Ree, my god!” she exclaims with a playful swat to my shoulder. I laugh along with her, but as I stare into my tea, it doesn’t remain for long. She’d hit a nerve and with a cautious glance her way, I can tell that she knows it. “How’s about the house? The six bedroom and three bath with a grand yard, covered porch, marble kitchen island, fireplace, walk in closet, and dare I say, a pool?” she blabbers on in a posh sounding voice, making me laugh this time.

“Good, it’s um, good. I dunno what else to say, Harry’s the one who talks to the contractors and all,” I offer with an outstretched hand, unsure of my words.

“Come on, Ree, you’re building a bloody house!” her boisterous laugh comes. Her eagerness shows, as well as the three glasses of wine she had with dinner. I’m not sure the one cup of black coffee is going to help her much.

“I know, but I dunno- I more so just go over the plans with Harry and approve them, I guess?” I say with a large shrug of my shoulders. “There’s not much to update you on since you last asked about it. It’s a house, they take forever to build. I won’t get to have much fun with it until it comes to like, picking wallpaper and tiling.”

“Well, will it be ready by the time the baby comes?”

“I doubt it, but Harry keeps insisting it will,” I muse aloud, watching the ripples in the brown liquid when I blow on it, feeling the steam grace my cheeks. “It’s fine if it isn’t.”

“Your response to everything is ‘it’s fine,’ since when are you like that?”

Pressing my lips together, I lift my head to meet her curious stare, a tired one after that wine, “I’m just going with the flow, Skye. I’ve found it’s better than being upset about plans being changed. I wanted to get married, then build a house, and then have a baby. But it’s okay, we get to do the baby part first. It’s like dessert before dinner, and I can do that. It’ll be fun,” I tell her, feeling the truth in them as well as the grimy half-lie.

Should I tell her or will she brush it off, as if it’s nothing? It wasn’t nothing to me though, that dream this morning, it’s bothered me all day. I’m not sure how much longer I can go without telling somebody about it, but it scares me to have to recount it, and being afraid they’ll tell me it means nothing. Because that’s the last thing it meant to me, and something inside of me keeps telling me that I shouldn’t just forget about it.

“If you insist,” she sighs, clucking her tongue. “Are you two still meeting Asher and I tomorrow night?”

“Y-Yeah,” I answer shakily, too deep in my thoughts to notice the way the tea burns my lips. What if I can’t figure out what that dream meant, will it be okay?

/

A cacophony of sounds pelted my ears the second we walked in the door. Apparently we weren’t the only ones with the good idea of trying the new pizza and arcade place on a Friday night.

“Well, this place ‘s neat, innit?” Harry comments as we approach a table tucked into the corner, between skeeball and some flappy bird looking game.

“Yeah, it looks great. Loads of games,” Asher comments when we pull out chairs to sit across from them. “No, don’t sit down. We just ordered the pizzas, but they may take a little while. Let’s go and get started on the games. I saw Pacman and a Supermario game when we came in,” he continues emphatically, already getting up from his seat. Skye laughs beside him, joiningAsher as I let go of the chair.

We pass parents and children, teenage couples, and a few others like us on our way to the front. There, we find the machine that’s replaced the coin contraption back from our day. No, you no longer had to feed coins into each game and have paper tickets spit out at you.

“’s kind o’ sad, dontchu think? ’s all digital now. Ya don’t have tha fun anymo’ o’ counting tha tickets and yer coins,” Harry muses while sliding a card from his wallet.

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“I suppose, but that’s no fun. It made me day findin’ a lost coin or line o’ tickets on the ground,” he hums with a shake of his head, pressing buttons on the touch screen. “How much should we do, you think?”

“I dunno,” I answer, forgetting the screen showing different dollar amounts and a description of how some games cost more than others. Instead, my attention is pulled to behind me. I’d seen her on our way in, but now, I look again at the mum sitting in the corner feeding her young baby, watching on as the dad holds up their son to shoot basketballs.

“Hey, ’m talking t’ you,” somebody says, nudging my shoulder with theirs. Turning back around, I find Harry’s green eyes waiting for me with furrowed brows. “Right now, we’re kids again with their friends, playin’ arcade games on a Friday night and stuffin’ themselves with pizza. We still have a ways t’ go on that, five and a half months actually,” he notes softly, nodding his head towards the mum.

“Yeah,” I murmur sheepishly, crossing my arms and looking back at the screen.

“I didn’t mean it rudely, Becks.”

“I know. A tenner should be fine, let’s just do that. We can always load more money onto it,” I insist, lifting my feet and clicking them together, like I’m Dorothy and wanting to go back home. Because, well, I do. It’s loud and my stomach hurts, I’m not sure from hunger or nausea, or both.

I’d been excited when we’d agreed to come here with Skye and Asher earlier this week, but no matter how much I tried to push it away, that stupid dream couldn’t be forgotten. Especially since I had it again last night, and I dreaded going to sleep tonight, in fear I’d see that mysterious little girl and that empty crib where our baby should be. It-

“Becks?”

“Wh-What?” I stammer, looking up quickly to find Harry waving a plastic card at me.

“We’re all set,” he announces, stepping to the side so Asher and Skye can buy theirs next. I follow him, moving out of the way for a little boy and his big brother to come through, rushing to the bathroom behind us. “You okay? Not feelin’ sick or anythin’, are you?”

I think about shaking my head, but when I look back into his eyes, I get The Look. The Harry Styles Look. The Look of all Looks. No, it wasn’t the killer stare I’d first familiarized him with when I sat at that desk at the end of his hall. This one came not soon after though, and it’d stuck. Ever since then he could read all of my tells, including how uncomfortable I am right now, or maybe just how I’m overthinking. He knew that look too.

“I’m probably just hungry.”

The curl hanging over his forehead is knocked loose when his head bobs up and down, but I reach a hand up to set it back in place.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get some pizza in that belly soon. I know how you’ve been craving it,” his dimples once again hide under his beard, one that had been growing thicker as the winter carried on. I feel its length when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple, his hand caressing my bump only a few seconds later.

“Thanks.”

After a few games, I found myself getting into it more and laughing at Harry’s competitiveness. I’d learned a long time ago that laughing about it was better than getting mad about it, and also that going to play games with Skye turned out better, watching the boys play from the sidelines.

“You doing okay, Boops? Tummy not good or are you tired?” the question came as I watched the little screen rack up my tickets from a Scooby Doo version of Whack a Mole. Instead of a red button marked with ‘25 cents’ a touchscreen with a card swipe sat there.

“Both, but what’s new?” I murmur, following her past Ring Toss, some car racing game that doesn’t give you tickets, and Space Invaders. At last, we found Air Hockey open and decided to have a go.

“So, what is it really?”

“What’s what?” I replied with an air of faux stupidity, pretending to focus hard on hitting the puck back her way.

“Why have you been acting weird lately? Just because I had some wine last night doesn’t mean I didn’t notice it.”

“Oh, that. You noticed,” I comment, avoiding her eyes even when she gets the puck past me. Bending over, I pluck it from the holder and hit it over to her, following it.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Whatever it is, which by the way, what is it again that’s bothering you?”

“You don’t sound very smart when you’re drinking. You do know that, don’t you?” a laugh is close to my lips, but it disappears almost as soon as it’s thought. As if to spite me, she picks up the glass of the pink hard cider she’d ordered. Sometimes, I missed drinking and how it made nights like these all the more fun.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” she sighs, tsking when I make the puck into her goal. Groaning, she slams the rest of the cider before dropping the puck onto the glow in the dark table. “But really, what is it?”

“God, are you and Harry stubborn,” I remark with a near groan, taking her cue when she hits it hard my way, deciding to do the same. “Fine . . so I had this dream the other night, like a nightmare almost and . . . ,” I carry on, detailing the entire thing to her, almost hoping that maybe if she says it’s nothing, her inebriated mind won’t remember it.

“Good game, glad you could get some rage out on that one, seeing as how you nearly gave me a bruise that one time.”

“Sorry,” the word drops carelessly as we walk away from the table and through a loud pack of kids. She makes a comment about never wanting kids, only to turn to me regretfully with the same word on her face. “It’s okay. I’m probably worrying for nothing.”

“I know you and don’t want to say that myself, but it was just a dream, Ree. Aren’t they like, manifestations of your thoughts and all that jazz? Maybe you saw the little girl once or see yourself in her, and want to protect her. It’s the mother in you coming out, I’m sure. I wouldn’t worry too much about it and what it means, it’s just a dream.”

“Yeah, it’s just a dream,” I agree aloud, more grateful than ever for Harry and Asher stepping in our path, telling us the pizzas had arrived. Sitting down beside Harry and arguing with him about Hawaiian pizza whilst our hands sat on the other’s thigh, this had once been a dream to me too.

But the one about the empty crib and the mysterious girl, no that was almost a nightmare, and I’d had enough of those.

[inactiive-shit]

Burning

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Warnings: allusions to rough past

Pairing: platonic dukexiety

Words: 1,988

Summary: Virgil needs a goddamn hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil came from a rough and tumble kind of place. There wasn’t much physical contact with each other and what there was usually wasn’t affectionate. Virgil was used to not being touched or being hurt with almost no in-between. Hugs were rarer than a blue moon and cuddling? It’s safe to say that was an entirely alien concept.

But Virgil’s twenty-six now. He’s had plenty of time to outgrow his aversion to touch, plenty of time to get over it, plenty of time to make friends that wouldn’t punch him before they patted his shoulder. And, well, he had. Sort of.

Enter Patton and Roman, who were soft and kind and the touchiest of touchy-feely people that Virgil had ever met. They were always trying to dispense hugs and pleased smiles and pats and gifts and, if Virgil were being honest, he could not even imagine either of them throwing a punch. Then, enter Logan. He wasn’t the same kind of overbearingly physical person. He rarely initiated hugs, although he equally rarely turned them down when they were offered. He was much more reserved than Virgil’s other friends, much more like Virgil, and Virgil could imagine Logan getting into a scrape or two.

But nobody touched Virgil. That was by Virgil’s own design, had nothing to do with any particular feelings he held about his three friends. Hugs were just...a lot. And especially for someone with as little experience with them as Virgil had. He’d tried to explain it once, tried to put into words the expectations he had whenever someone moved toward him. He tried to make them understand that it wasn’t them, it was just that Virgil was used to a different kind of living where hugs had never been the norm. But Patton had looked ready to cry and Roman was affronted and even Logan, Logan who wanted almost just as much alone time as Virgil, had looked horrified. How was it possible, they wanted to know, that Virgil had gone so long without being treated with care?

He hated to see those looks on the others’ faces, hated a fraction more the looks they sent at him after that were barely to the left of pitying, so he took it back as best he could. It really hadn’t been that bad, don’t worry about it, all the usual phrases and eventually he persuaded them to drop it. So they stopped trying to touch Virgil all that much, and Virgil convinced himself that he wasn’t jealous of the casual affection they threw around like confetti. Virgil did his best to pretend his feigned indifference was real, and that he didn’t want touch just as much as he loathed the thought of it.

And then, one day, he met someone new. This person was a lot like him, rough around the edges like a ripped newspaper, but soft enough that he wouldn’t cut your fingers. He showed affection by punching others’ shoulders or throwing himself full-body on top of them. He wore the most ridiculous outfits that Virgil had ever seen, and he never seemed to care that he was the weirdest person in the room.

His name was Remus. He was Roman’s twin brother, although the similarities between them were almost impossible to find. He had a white streak in his hair that he denied ever putting there himself and, truthfully, nobody had ever seen it happen. He had no qualms about treating Virgil just the same as he treated every other person he came into contact with, and that’s about the time Virgil really started to realize he had a problem.

His skin burned whenever anyone touched it and he could feel an imprint of them on him long after they had left. There was an ache in his chest when he thought about getting a hug and despite having as many good, caring friends as he had now, Virgil felt more lonely than ever.

Remus, despite Roman’s misgivings about his brother, ended becoming an integral part of their group, and he continued to unknowingly supply Virgil with physical contact at their every interaction. It was equally wanted and unwanted, equally loved and hated, and Virgil kept coming back for more. And as much as the ache in Virgil’s chest intensified, as much as the burning on his skin kept him awake at night, Virgil never said a word about it to anyone.

Touch starved. It didn’t sound real, like something that could actually affect people. More than that, though, it was embarrassing. How could he even broach the subject? Hey, guys. So there’s this thing I found out about called touch starvation and it turns out I have it. And I could really use some pats on the back right about now, I swear I’m not making this up for attention. Yeah, that would go over great. Instead, Virgil took whatever he got when he bumped against a stranger on accident and mind his own business.

It was working out for him as well as you’d expect when something he had never planned on happened. He’d been having a panic attack, an occurrence that had been more common than Virgil liked, and he’d been entirely content to suffer through on his own and pretend everything was fine after, but then Remus walked into the room like a wrecking ball, all loud noises and erratic movement, and Virgil flinched. He flinched and tried not to cry because crying was the best way to make someone mad at you and also maybe the best way to expose yourself.

Remus, though? He stopped being loud and bouncing and sat down slowly in front of Virgil. Virgil couldn’t seem him too clearly through the tears in his eyes, but Remus might have been concerned. There was some movement, like he might have been talking, but Virgil could hear the static in his head and nothing else, could hear impending doom and forever alone like a war drum coming at him, could feel the vibrations running through his hands and shaking his very bones.

Suddenly, clear as day, he could hear Remus’s voice like a bell ringing, “Can I hug you?” Virgil gasped and hesitated. A hug? Would a hug just make things worse? It always seemed to but maybe not, can things even get worse from here? He nodded and Remus’s arms wrapped around him and held him so securely it almost felt like there were eight limbs keeping him safe.

The static changed frequency, changed color, changed channels and instead of the cold, impersonal, overwhelming static in his head like before it turned warm and encompassing but not altogether bad. Virgil choked on a sob and buried his face in Remus’s shoulder, shuddering, trying to figure out why he wanted to keep burning like this.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Remus said. “I’ll skin whatever hurt you.” He kept a tight hold on Virgil, kept holding him until he stopped crying and pulled away. Virgil wiped his face off with a sleeve, thoroughly embarrassed. That was unnecessary and stupid and he really should be in better control of himself so that things like that didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Stormcloud. Are you hurt?” Virgil shook his head, unable to force himself to make eye contact with Remus after such an episode. Remus’s hand ghosted over Virgil’s cheek and he flinched away, feeling the streak of a burn where their skin had barely come into contact. Remus withdrew his hand quickly. Virgil was almost sad to see it go.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just have panic attacks sometimes,” Virgil said, and that was true enough. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what the catalyst for this attack had been or if there was something he needed to go do now that he was back to functional. Virgil was totally spent and more than ready for a nap.

“Yikes,” said Remus. There was a few minutes of silence while Virgil swiped the last of the tears from his face and destroyed his eyeliner and steadied his breathing so that he wouldn’t be a total mess when he finally left whatever room his panic had holed him up in. What he wanted to do more than anything right then was gather himself, make his excuses, and go back to his own room where he could hold onto his body pillow and bury himself in enough blankets that it felt like another person was laying on top of him.

“Are you touch starved?” Remus asked, voice sudden and surprising and observational skills much better than Virgil had anticipated they would be. He jolted, glancing quickly to Remus’s face before looking away and fighting the urge to cower behind his hands. “You flinch whenever anybody reaches toward you and I’ve never seen anyone touch you and you’re freezing. Do you need another hug?”

“No,” Virgil said, shrinking away from the prospect. He was still burning like a star ready to implode but more than that no one was supposed to know because it was Virgil’s problem to figure out, Virgil’s issue to work out without having to involve other people like this.

“No to which?” Remus asked, but then he gently laid his hand on the ground between them, palm up, and hummed. “We can just hold hands if you want.” Hesitantly, Virgil reached out and took Remus’s hand. It was rough and warm and alive and human. Virgil felt a shiver run through his body at the contact but he forced himself to keep it. If Remus was offering, if Remus understood the situation, then as awkward as Virgil felt, this was okay. There was nothing wrong with this and Virgil...Virgil really didn’t think Remus was going to hurt him.

“How did you know?” Virgil whispered, voice cracking over the syllables. He might cry again if they weren’t careful.

“Been there, done that,” Remus said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “Everything kinda sucks though, so I made myself start touching other people and then they started touching me back. Not great at it all the time, but,” he shrugged, “I’m not so cold anymore.” Virgil couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face whatever was happening right now, so he sat quietly and did his best to take it in. God knew when the next time he’d get something like this would be.

“If you want,” Remus said slowly, “I could help you. We could hold hands and slowly work up to bigger things like hugs until you’re not so skin-hungry anymore.” Virgil internally winced at the term, but externally he was finally looking at Remus, staring in total shock that he would offer something like that.

“Why?” Virgil blurted, confusion swirling and making him feel almost nauseous.

“Because you’re my friend,” Remus said, and he sounded just as confused as Virgil felt. “And I love you. And I may or may not have developed a squish on you. I want to help because I care.” He smiled slightly, and to Virgil it looked kind of sad but not in a way that made him feel bad.

“I...I…” Virgil didn’t know what to say, how to say yes to what Remus was offering or how to make sense of it all in his head.

“It’s okay,” Remus said, running his thumb over the back of Virgil’s hand and causing an involuntary shiver. “We can talk about it later. For now let’s just hang out. Do you want me to talk?” Virgil nodded, figuring that at least with some kind of non-touch stimulation he might be able to refocus. Remus started talking about something, Virgil couldn’t recall what later, and Virgil realized that maybe tackling this with Remus wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he didn’t have to suffer through on his own like he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, Virgil could finally stop burning.

[anasticklefics]

Tickle Cheating

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy

Summary: Jim tickles Bones. It’s what he DOES. So how does one react when you see someone else tickle your usual victim? Like a mess if you’re Jim Kirk apparently!

A/N: I blame @fickle-tiction (are you HAPPY?). Also I don’t know how hospitals work don’t yell at me. Might rewrite this idea with lee!Jim because he has my heart.

Also does this whole fic and my author’s note have a general chaotic air about it or am I going crazy haha?

Words: 3 124

The first time Jim noticed it was when he dropped by the hospital to deliver Bones’ lunch that he’d left at the kitchen counter of their shared dorm room. Entering a space that was oddly both chaotic and completely still at the same time, the general air so suffocating that it was no wonder Bones was exhausted each time he returned from a shift. Jim grinned at the receptionist, unsure of where the med students where and if he was even allowed past a certain point and if so, “would you or someone give this to Leonard McCoy?”

But the woman, hair framing her heart shaped, incredibly kind face, met his grin with a smile and told him he could go right in.

“If someone stops you or you can’t find him, simply ask if someone can leave the box in the kitchen.”

Her words sounded scripted in a way that told him this probably happened more often than not, and he thanked her and left. Up three stories with the elevator to the floor she’d directed him toward, footsteps echoing around the empty corridors, until he eventually found a more chaotic environment in the form of the emergency room.

How many times had he been here just that semester?

“Kirk!” someone Jim recognized from the Academy called out, glancing up from a clipboard. “What have you done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s been months since… whatever. Do you know where Bones is? McCoy. Whatever you call him.”

“I tend to call him Leo.”

“That’s weird. Do you know where he is? He left his lunch.”

The guy, unnamed for now and the rest of eternity, pointed his thumb in the direction of yet another corridor. “Third door to the right.”

“Should I just go in?”

“They don’t have any patients in there right now.”

So Jim went, wondering if he was breaking any rules but feeling extremely ready to get out of there.

He saw it then. The small room - do they perform surgeries in there? - with a bed and a table and four windows and five people, all on top of each other with Bones in the middle. All talking, simultaneously grave and cracking jokes. Familiar, whether they wanted to or not. A job where you couldn’t be timid of bodily contact; eating and sleeping almost in each other’s laps. Jim looked at Bones, saw how easily he moved with elbows in his guts and people breathing down his neck.

He also saw his face light up when he caught sight of Jim.

“I brought your lunch,” he said meekly, holding it up, and if Bones was the type to profess his undying love for his friends, Jim was sure he would be going down on one knee right now.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he said later, having entered their dorm as Jim had been nearly falling asleep over his homework. “You bringing me food literally saved my day and I will grant you one wish as a reward.”

And Jim, exhausted, lonely and closer to the verge of tears than he would’ve liked, demanded cuddles.

In their years of living together Jim had never asked for cuddles. He always wanted to, but whatever physical affection he had a tendency to hand out to his friends like a way too common gift, he always stopped before they could get mad, and therefore always stopped before he felt satisfied.

“I just want a good fucking cuddle,” he was saying now, his tone too desperate for it to sound like a joke. Bones, bless him, didn’t comment on it.

“Let me take a shower and change,” he only said. “Trust me, you don’t want whatever my clothes have.”

Jim nodded, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, so he ducked his head back down, eyes on his books. Listening to every sound Bones was making, thinking he was being both too quick and too slow, and when he finally returned Jim was fully aware of it, but pretending to be too engrossed in his work to notice.

“You wanna cuddle now or later?” Bones asked, so casual about it that Jim knew he’d never manage to get a single thing done for the rest of the night.

“Now,” he said, standing abruptly enough to nearly knock his chair down.

Bones grabbed it, his face a mix of amusement and concern. “Right then. The couch? Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Want to pick the movie?”

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Jim tried to shake the sudden awkwardness out of his limbs as he followed his friend into the living room area of their tiny dorm, realizing this was probably a bad idea. They hadn’t even touched yet and he was acting like a total fool.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, causing Bones to stop in his tracks. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I’m over it. I was just tired. We really don’t have to.”

“Jim.” Reaching out to grab Jim’s arms, Bones gave his flesh a squeeze. “Breathe. It’s fine that you asked for it and we don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind, but if I really didn’t want to myself I would’ve said so.”

Jim deflated. “Promise?”

“Jesus, you must be exhausted. Yes, promise.”

“It’s just that-” Jim wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain when Bones hadn’t asked for an explanation in the first place. “-I saw you at the hospital and you seemed so okay with being physically close to people and I feel like I might die if nobody holds me for, like, half an hour-”

“Jim.”

“-and I know it’s part of your job so I don’t want to overstep-”

“Please shut up for a sec.”

Jim did, but only because Bones had said please.

“I don’t necessarily enjoy having my personal space so violated,” he continued. “But of course I don’t mind you doing it. You’re my-”

“I know,” Jim said when Bones trailed off. They had no words to describe what they were. “So I shouldn’t be jealous?”

“Absolutely not, but mostly because you act like an idiot when you want something you think you can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like a petulant child.”

“Oho, is that so?”

Bones ruffled his hair. “Go back to being timid. It was cuter.”

So maybe Jim didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the movie and fell asleep in Bones’ arms ten minutes later, Bones’ fingers squeezing at various places on his body to get him to “relax for fuck’s sake”. Maybe he couldn’t picture himself falling asleep in an empty bed again for weeks. Maybe Bones was really fucking good at cuddling.

Waking up sweaty with Bones’ knee pressed to the small of his back later was a whole other thing. “Hhng. Get off.”

“You’re nearly on top of me.”

“Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

“You snore like a goddamn-”

Jim somehow managed to roll over and press his face into Bones’ neck. “Shh. Too loud.”

A spasm went through Bones’ body, convincing Jim he was trying to throw him off the couch and making him resort to clinging onto his torso for dear life. “N-no.”

“What was that?”

Bones was, miraculously, laughing.

Jim tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his face, but he only succeeded in pressing the top of his head beneath Bones’ chin. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

Bones said something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep and higher in pitch with laughter. His hands were clawing at Jim’s back, unable to get a good grip of his shirt and therefore only managing to lightly tickle him, which was kinda nice actually.

Wait.

“Oh, this is tickling you,” Jim said, laughing into Bones’ skin as if this was a group activity. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” came the strangled denial.

“Hmm, I think you are. Otherwise this wouldn’t bother you.” He spidered his fingers up Bones’ side, noticing the squirming getting a notch more desperate the closer he came to his friend’s ribs. He paused just beneath them. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t react to this I’ll believe you’re not ticklish. Okay?”

“Jim, you fucking-”

Jim jabbed him in the ribs and nearly lost his hearing from the shriek that left Bones’ mouth.

“Ah, so you’re ridiculously ticklish, then?”

Bones cursed and managed to slip his arm out from beneath him, placing it against Jim’s chest, but not pushing him off.

“And you don’t mind this? I see.”

“I’m gonna kill you, James Tiberius-”

“Don’t you middle name me, Leo.”

Years passed. They graduated. Jim somehow became a captain and got a ship. Bones for some reason decided to work on said ship, bestowing Jim with his constantly shifting moods for the next five years. Not that he complained. Was literally doing the exact opposite. And, all the while their lives changed and kept changing, Jim kept tickling him nearly daily.

“Don’t fucking tickle me in front of others,” had been Bones’ one demand disguised as a request.

So Jim didn’t, but kept it behind closed doors as they always had. The image of Bones being physically close to others always prompting him to demand cuddles, now that he wasn’t ashamed of this dire need anymore. And, more often than not, he would slip his hands beneath Bones’ shirt and make him laugh uncontrollably for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how it had become a part of their routine, but he felt that if he didn’t get these intimate yet playful moments as often as he could he would shrivel up and die.

“You’re a drama queen,” Bones had said more than once when Jim had complained about them not having gotten any alone time.

“You literally beg me to stop when I’m barely even touching you,” Jim countered each time. “Don’t call me a drama queen when you’re just as bad.”

Bones would only wave a hand at him, having gotten out of the habit of blushing over his sensitivity years ago.

Something else that had become more common than they probably realized was how often Jim brought him food into medbay. Sometimes it was breakfast, snacks, his forgotten lunch or dinner. Other times it was just a drink, just as an excuse to stop by. Sometimes he came empty handed.

That day Bones truly had forgotten to eat, his empty seat painfully loud in the cafeteria. Jim knew his habits more than anyone and knew he wouldn’t eat unless food was visibly presented before him, and so he filled a tupperware with everything he knew Bones liked and skipped through the corridors, suddenly feeling like he was back at the Academy again.

Bones wasn’t alone, but he rarely was. The crowded hospital rooms had been replaced with him and Chapel dancing around each other, sometimes with more than one crew member present; arms and legs and chests and heads laid out for Bones’ magical fingers to heal, or so they hoped. Jim had lied there more times than he could count, so he was highly familiar with the nooks of this part of the ship.

Bones was standing on a stool, which made Jim stop in his tracks before he announced his presence, greeting dying on his lips and being replaced with a grin. Whatever Bones was trying to reach, it seemed to be just out of reach and he was grumbling as he kept stretching.

“Do you need a hand there?” Chapel asked, her tone playful while Bones let out an unprofessional curse.

“Can I borrow some heels?” he muttered, and she laughed, all familiarity due to working together in such close proximity for years. It wasn’t elbows in guts or naps in laps, but Jim recognized it from his crew on the Bridge. It was impossible to not grow close.

“It might help if I make you jump,” she continued.

“How the hell will you do that?”

Jim was almost proud of the fact that he didn’t let out any sound as he watched her reach out and poke at Bones’ ribs, just at the spot that could make him scream with laughter. It was a coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, how the hell could she know.

Bones didn’t squeal, but he didn’t pretend as if nothing was happening as he had learnt to do back in school, partly because back then people never meant to tickle you if they tried to get past you quickly and had to grab your waist. Chapel did indeed mean to make him squirm.

Jim watched his arms shoot down, swatting at her with a laugh so relaxed this really truly couldn’t have been the first time she tickled him. It really truly couldn’t.

Other people tickled Bones. Bones let other people tickle him.

He started backing away, lunch box forgotten when he literally bumped into Uhura who was coming from the opposite direction. The tupperware flew out of his hands as he let out a gasp in surprise, the food littering the floor only a second later. Things were a bit chaotic after that, but maybe because everything was overpowered by his frantically beating heart, that really had no business freaking out but there they were.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Uhura say over his own incoherent babbling, the two of them crouching down to clean up the mess while Chapel and Bones kept repeating that “it’s fine, we have a broom, please get off the floor” that Uhura eventually listened to while Jim had to be pulled upright by Bones who was laughing, only to start frowning when he realized just how truly stressed out Jim was by the whole situation.

It wasn’t even about the food, but.

“I’ll go get you some more before they close the cafeteria,” he said, heart in his throat, threatening to spill out among the food on the ground, and who knew what that treacherous heart would reveal. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, leaving them be and rushing to the first restroom he could find, finally allowing himself to calm the fuck down and breathe.

What a stupid thing to get upset by, but.

He heard someone enter the room, causing him to press his body against the stall like a coward, but Bones’ voice rang clear anyway. “Jim?”

He didn’t reply.

“Come on, I know you’re in here.”

“I’m peeing.”

“Right, well, I’ll wait until you’ve finished.”

“Okay, I’m not peeing.”

“I know.” A beat, and, “Come out. Please.”

It was always the please that got him.

“Before you ask,” Jim said, exiting the stall. “I was gonna go get your food just after this stop.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about the food. I mean I do, and it was really nice that you brought me some, but it’s a slow day and I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see what was up with you.”

“With me?”

“You seem… I don’t know. Freaked out? Like something is wrong?”

“I see.”

“Jim.”

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, looked anywhere but on Bones. “I don’t know. The whole situation sort of shook me and now I feel weird.”

“You spilling the food?”

“No. Jesus, no. Just-” He waved his hand in Bones’ general direction. “You being tickled by someone else. It was weird being an onlooker.”

“You’re acting like a disaster because of that?”

“Look, you know I’ve acted worse about tamer things.”

“You’re so stupid.”

Jim snorted, finally meeting his friend’s eye. “I’d love to have this conversation-”

“Stop lying.”

“-but I have to head back. Got a ship to run and all.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bringing this up tonight.”

Jim patted his shoulder as he passed. “I’m counting on it.”

It didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it, however.

“Ugh, just get it over with,” he groaned when Bones entered his quarters, looking rather alert, pointing to a calm rest of the day.

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Bones deadpanned. “We’re gonna talk about my sensitive spots, after all.”

“I love your sensitive spots.”

“Focus.”

“I just thought it was something only I did to you, that’s all.”

“You got jealous?”

“Maybe a little?”

Bones relented. “You’re being-”

“Ridiculous, I know.”

“And kind of endearing, but I’ll only say that once.”

“You say many things once. Doesn’t mean I’ll forget them.”

“Oho, you’re kind of asking for it yourself, you know.”

Jim threw up his hands. “Tickle me, then. This whole day’s weird and backwards anyway.”

“You know I would never take your job.”

“Chapel did.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’ve never tickled anyone else before.”

Jim huffed, crossing his arms. “I never said my reaction was logical.”

“You gonna tickle me or not?”

“Are you asking me to?”

Bones did flush then, so rare nowadays. So wonderful. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Jim barked out a laugh, already approaching him. “Stay still.”

“You know damn well I won’t.”

“I do, but it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“You sadist- wahait!”

Jim cornered him and pushed him down onto the couch, fingers already working over his hips, a spot he was certain no one else knew of. A spot that could make Bones scream so loud Jim had to stop out of fear of accidentally killing him.

Usually he was gentle, starting slow to make him giggle, but Bones had technically tickle cheated on him and that just wouldn’t do. Pinning him beneath his thighs, Jim dug into the sensitive spots, Bones’ clothes doing nothing to help him whatsoever.

Oh, how he laughed. Not a quick little inconvenienced laugh as he squirmed away, but a proper, desperate belly laugh. This was theirs and only theirs. Jim the only one Bones trusted to know this intimately. He was grabbing at Jim’s wrists now, but despite his strength he wasn’t pushing Jim away. Merely steadying himself.

Whatever they were and whatever they had, it always had and always would include this.

“I should tie you up and torture you,” Jim teased, even though he’d never immobilized him during this and only tickled him for a couple of minutes at a time, but Bones had once become a stuttering mess when Jim had threatened this and he did love a flustered Bones, after all.

He was laughing too hard to stutter, but the way he was shaking his head told Jim all he needed to know. His words had left a mark and whatever he did now, wherever he touched, would be more ticklish than usual.

He got to work.

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Kieran Valentine

You’ll steal my heart if you read my diary.

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew.

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary.

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

V,

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely,

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again.

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary- Chapter 52

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

It's just past eight in the morning when he arrives home; Nik had had one of her 'security specialists' pick him up at the airport, and relief had surged through him the second the SUV had made the turn into the long and winding gravel driveway. The feeling is always the same when he gets back from a job. All the tension and the stress that he'd spent days...sometimes even weeks...carrying squarely on his shoulders  lifting as soon as that last thousand metres came into view. The old metal mailbox at the end of the drive -no last name, just the numbers of the house that the previous owners had long ago put on it with white paint-, the towering, seemingly impenetrable wall of trees that completely blocks all view the house and property, the snow capped mountains off in the distance.

But while he's relieved to be home, the view of all those familiar and normally welcoming things fills him with little to no sense of comfort. They'd been safe there; hidden away from the rest of the world, just a normal (to outsiders, anyway) normal family that liked their peace and their solitude, who kept to themselves and never ventured far from home.  Now it's been violated. People have been there. People sent to destroy him and hurt his wife and his kids. With every photo taken and left in the mailbox, their security and their comfort had been stripped away a little at a time. And when those same people had pulled down their driveway and stepped onto their front porch, life as they'd known it was over.  Every shred of safety, every ounce of peacefulness, every time the view of the mountains had been both breathtaking and comforting, is now gone.

It's home, but isn't home in the way it used be. And it never would be again.

For the first time since they'd bought the place, his return isn't greeted by the excited shrieks and squeals of his children; no little bodies bounding out the front door and tearing down the front steps, all three of them throwing themselves at him all at once, all demanding his immediate and undivided attention. No puppy with its excited, incessant bark or the way it weaves in and out of his legs when he tries to watch. No wife standing on the porch with a smile on her face and the baby on the hip.  There's nothing but emptiness. Silence. And it makes the place that is usually so welcoming and comforting feel cold. Empty. Sterile. As if it belongs to someone else and he's nothing more than an unwelcome outsider.

He spends his first ten minutes outside of the SUV tending to the familiar things; body and mind moving in autopilot, so used to same domestic routine that he doesn't even think about it anymore.  Just going through the motions as he checks the mail, brings the trash can and recycle boxes from the side of the road and puts them at the side of the house, makes sure that the dog's outside water and food dishes are full, even though he knows well full that even Mac had the trip to Oklahoma.  And when he comes back around to the front of the house and gathers the lone bag he'd brought with him out of the driveway, he discovers Nik watching him as she stands on the front porch, one hand on her hip, the other holding the screen door open. And while he knows she's there for good reason and with the best of intentions, he still finds himself irritated by her presence. At the fact that she always seems to be where she doesn't really belong; just on the outside of his life, waiting for her chance to fully jump in.

“How was your flight?” she asks, as he climbs the front steps.

“Long. Aggravating.”

“Aggravating?”

“I was just anxious to get home, I guess,” he reaches for the edge of the screen door to pull it open further, wanting to simply step past her and get inside. But she keeps one hand on the screen and puts the other on the door frame, completely blocking his way.  And he heaves a heavy sigh and fixes her with a cold, almost menacing glare. “What the fuck now, Nik? Is there where you try and jump me and take advantage of me? Because you feel you haven't totally fucked up my life yet?”

“I never....”

“You should have never told Esme about McMann. You should have stayed the fuck out of it. I would have told her myself.”

“When? A week from now? A month? A year? Two years? Whenever your conscience got too much for you to bear?”

“What does it matter when? I would have done it.”

“It would have been too late by then, Tyler.  By the time you told her, the lie would have been eating at you and it would have gone on too long for her to forgive you. Instead of blaming me for this, try putting the blame where it really lies. On yourself.”

“You don't think I already am? That I don't hate myself for what's happening? For the fact my wife felt like she needed to get away from me for a while? But the fact is that she never would have felt that way and she never would have left if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Or was that your plan all along? Really tear shit apart so she would leave me. Would leave the door wide open for you, wouldn't it.”

“That was not my intention. It never has been.”

“Oh yeah? Because I have about two dozen text messages and emails from you suggesting a whole lot of dirty shit that definitely would have broken my marriage up. Or do you just forget about that kind of thing?”

“Nothing ever came of those.”

“Because I wouldn't let it. Just get out of my way, Nik. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I just want to see my wife.”

“You didn't need to come home. She's fine. Her brother is here, keeping an eye on her.”

“Well I'm happy about that, but she's my wife, so...”  he attempts to slip past her, and she once more blocks his way.  “...Nik, I will move you. And not nicely either.”

“You should be in Ireland. You should be leaving for New Zealand in two days.”

“Well I'm not. I'm here. In Colorado. Because my wife needs me to be here.”

“And I told you she was fine. That you didn't need to run home. I told you...”

“You're a doctor now? I don't care if you think she's fine. If there's something wrong...even the smallest thing...I should be here with her.  And maybe you'd understand that if you had a life outside of the job. You know, someone you actually care more about than the guns and the money.”

She frowns. “You're a real prick..”

“And you're standing in my way, so...”

She finally relents, positioning herself sideways in the doorway, motioning for him to step inside.   “What good do you think it will do?” she asks, watching as he tosses a set of keys on a table in the foyer and toes off his boots. “Being here?”

“Maybe it'll make her realize that I do love her more than the job. Maybe it will make her feel better, knowing that I'm here and that I didn't just say 'fuck you and the baby' and stay thousands of miles away. And maybe, just maybe, it'll make me feel better. What the hell is it to you, anyway? This is my life. Not yours. Why don't you go back to fucking Mark and Esme's brother.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What...?”

“I'm tired, Nik.  I'm sore. And all I want to do is go upstairs, see my wife and kiss her and make sure everything is okay. Why is this such a goddamn issue? This is my house, remember? And I appreciate everything you've done for both Esme and I. I really do. Getting her back home, getting me home. But just back off and let us work on our marriage, okay? For fuck sakes.”

“You are going back,” she states, as he climbs the stairs.  “And I'm not asking  a question when I say that.”

“It's my decision. Not yours.”

“They need you. The team needs you. Don't bail on them now. And don't bail on those kids either.”

“Why don't you just fuck off, Nik,” he suggests, his feet pounding on the stairs as he heads for the second floor.

****

She sleeps on his side of the bed; on her side with her back facing the door,  cheek resting against his pillow.  A second one tucked into her chest and her hand -the one with the IV placed into it- resting on top of it, an attempt to keep it slightly elevated,  the tubing from kinking, and things comfortable.  And he strips down to to just his boxers and his t-shirt before pulling the comforter back and settling in behind her; ignoring the pain that shoots through his bad shoulder as he's forced to lay on it, placing one hand on the top of her head and the other on her stomach.  His face buried in her hair, his eyes closed.  And she stirs; giving a happy little sigh and wiggling closer to him, her hand, IV and all, slipping under the blanket to rest on top of his.

“Whatever you're planning on doing,” she says. “You better make it quick. My husband's going to be home soon.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “What's he like? Nice guy? Big guy?”

“He's big and mean.”

“How mean?”

“Mean enough. He has a resting 'I'll tear you a new asshole' face.”

“Could I take him?”

“I don't know. He's really tall and has big muscles and is totally sexy.”

Grinning, he combs his fingers through her hair and presses a kiss to the back of her head.

She gives another sigh; long and content. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“I know that smart ass,” she laughs. “I mean, what are you doing home?”

“I came home for you.”

Smiling, she tips her head back to look at him, and he gives her a little wink and places a kiss on her brow.  “You didn't have to come home,”she says, as she once more nestles her cheek into the pillow.

“Yeah, I did. And I didn't have to. I wanted to.”

“How long are you here for?”

“As long as you want me to be. Why? You already want to kick me out?”

“I tried that once. I hated every second of it. I was miserable without you and wanted you to come home. That was the longest six months of my life.”

“Yeah, that wasn't the greatest time of my life either.” He'd spent more of it either working or drunk of his ass. Even missing scheduled visits with the kids.  “So much for staying away from each other for a while, huh? It lasted what? Thirty six hours? I guess the baby had other plans. Didn't think it was necessary. Wanted mommy and daddy together.”

“She's got a mind of her own already. She's going to be a trouble maker, you know.”

“Now you're calling it a girl.”

“It has to be girl. Causing this much problems right from the beginning.”

“You mean after five and a half years we actually agree on something? That girls cause the most issues?”

“It's true. Look at all the issues I cause you.”

“I'm not going to argue with that one,” he teases, chuckling when she elbows him in the stomach.  He moves his forearm up to rest her pillow, thumb gently caressing her forehead, fingertips kneading her scalp. “What did they say at the hospital?”

“Not much, really.  I'm dehydrated and my blood pressure was really high.”

“Can't say I'm surprised. About either of those.”

“They did some tests.”

“What kind of tests?”

“Blood work, mostly. Made me pee in a cup. Checked my heart. Which was perfectly fine.”

“Well that's some good news,” he says, and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “What did they say about the baby?”

“Well, they confirmed there's actually one in there. They did an ultrasound to check on things.”

“And?”

“And everything looks great, they said. Healthy and perfect. So far anyway. Everything is where it's supposed to be and there's nothing missing and nothing extra. They said the heartbeat was really strong and everything was measuring right where it's supposed to be. They didn't see any problems.”

Tyler breathes a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“I'm farther along than either of us thought though.”

“How far?”

“Just guess. Out of everything you've experienced in the last five and a half years...all the pregnancies you've got to witness...just guess....”

“I dunno. Three months?”

“More like three months and three weeks. And two days.”

He raises both hos his brows. “Are they sure? Because that's almost right out of the first trimester.”

“Aww...baby....look at you,” she teases. “Remembering things you read in What To Expect When You're Expecting. I remember when you'd read that when I was having Millie. It was so cute. You sitting on the beach, all tan and buff, reading that.  Totally into it. Until you got to the graphic parts about child birth and couldn't take it.”

“No book could prepare me for that.” He'd missed that  moment with Austin; he'd been born while Tyler was on his last tour in Iraq. So Millie had been his first experience in the delivery room. And he'd almost wanted it to be his last.

“I don't know how you can do some of the things you've had to do to people, yet you almost pass out watching your daughter being born.”

“Because I don't know those people. I don't have a connection to them. I'm married to you. I had to see you in all that pain and I had to see her being delivered. I know it's beautiful and and it's a miracle and all that. And I felt that. But it also want me to puke. And pass out. But almost four months? How is that even possible?”

“Well, you were home then, so...'

“I don't mean that. I know how that happened. I mean how does it get so far head and you don't even know.”

“I don't know. Don't ask me.”

“I have to ask you. It's your body.”

“I thought I was stressed. Or that I was just run down from taking care of four other kids. I was still kind of getting my period, so...”

“I won't even ask what 'still kind of' means.”

“...so I thought things were normal. And you were using condoms. Or so I thought.”

“I was.”

“So what happened? Did one break or...?”

“Okay, so maybe I wasn't using them all the time.”

“Really, Tyler? Really?”

“I was pulling out though.”

She laughs. “Did you learn nothing in grade nine health class? When they taught that the pulling out doesn't work? Did you sleep through that class?”

“Okay, so I accept my part of the responsibility? But almost four months and you didn't suspect anything? Not even the smallest thing that crept up and made you wonder if maybe you were?”

“I didn't have a reason to think I was. I thought you were handling things and I was still sort of having periods. I mean, I felt a bit sick but I thought I was stressed and worn out. Being married to you is very stressful sometimes, I'll have you know. And neither have four of your spawn to worry about the same time. Not once did I think it was anything other than that.”

“Well, I guess we don't have that long to get our asses back to Australia after all. Unless you want to wait until after the baby comes.”

“No. God no. That is the last thing I want. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. Away from my evil mother. Did Nik tell you? Why would we left there? Why we came back here?”

“She told me a little bit. That you got into it with your mom and things got out of control and you passed out. What the hell did she say that got you that worked up? Because you've never...ever...got that mad at me and we've gotten into some epic fights.”

“It doesn't matter what she said. Just that she said it. And she followed it up with how we're all dead to her if I stay with you. Even the kids.”

“That means you can't get rid of me at all now. You have to keep me around out of sheer spite.”

“I want to laugh at that, I really do. But you have no idea the things she said. About you. About this baby. She's evil, Tyler.  Like she is legitimately evil. If you'd heard the things she said...”

“Who gives a shit what she says about me? I told you a long time ago to just ignore her. That it doesn't matter what the hell she says about me. I don't give a shit.”

“No...you don't understand...”  he hears the way her voice trembles from emotion, and presses a kiss to the top of her head and softly strokes her hair. “...the things that she said about you....they were horrible and they hurt so bad. Because she knows my worst fear when it comes to you and she preyed on that. She used that to break me and it worked and it just hurts so bad.”

“It's okay,” he moves his arm from the pillow and places it across her collarbone, pulling her tightly against him and kissing her temple. “It's okay now. I'm right here. It doesn't matter what she said about me.  I'm...right...here.”

“But one day you might not be.”

“That's not going to be for a long time. A really long time. Like, another forty years.”

“Oh God. I have to put up with your that long?”

He frowns, while she manages a short laugh through her tears.

“Bad time for a joke,” she's apologetic. “I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. We both know you won't make it that long because I'll end up killing you by that time for leaving the toilet seat up one too many times.”

“Well for what it's worth, I'd rather you laugh than cry. Even if it's at my expense.”

“It was just so bad. What she said. I can't get it out of my head, Tyler. Because she damn well knows what I'm most scared of and that's why she said it. And that just makes it even worse. Not just that she wishes that on you, but she wishes that kind of suffering and grief on me. What kind of person does that? What kind of person is so cold and evil?”

“She is. And she always has been. She's been like that with you all your life, you said. Especially after your dad died. Just settle down, okay?” he places his cheek against her ear, rubbing her stomach in slow, soothing motions. “You need to settle down for you and the baby. Or you'll actually end up in the hospital this time and I know you don't want that. So just calm down. It doesn't matter what your mother said. She can say what she wants. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

He tightens his hold on her, thumb moving back and forth against her collarbone, his lips against her ear, eyes closed.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“What if something is wrong? With the baby?”

“Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“But what if there is? What if we found  out there's something going on? Like some kind of issue or disability or some kind of special needs or...?”

“Well, then we deal with it.”

“You don't mean...”

“No. I don't mean that. I mean we learn about whatever it is and we make whatever changes we need to make to our lives and we adapt. It's our baby regardless, yeah? So we just take things as they come and deal with it.”

“And you'd be okay with it? If there was something wrong?”

“Why wouldn't I? It's my kid.”

“And you'd be able  handle it? Because I wouldn't be able to deal with that alone. I just wouldn't. And if you couldn't handle it...”

“Baby, I'm not the same person I was back then. When I took off when Austin was sick. I'm far from being that same person.”

“I didn't mean to say to hurt your feelings. I just...”

“It's okay. I know why you said it. And if I was you,  I'd ask the same thing. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not that guy, Esme. That guy doesn't exist anymore.  He stopped existing when I met you.  He's gone and he's not coming back. So that's not anything you have to worry about. If something's wrong, we deal with it together. We made this baby together, we deal with whatever happens together.”

“Okay,” she sniffles. “I need you to do me a favour.”

“I don't think we're supposed to be having sex, so it you're wanting me to get you off...”

“Is that seriously the first thing you always think of?” she laughs.

“I can't help it. I'm a red blooded male. I'm lying in bed with my half naked wife who keeps pushing her ass back against my cock.”

“I'm doing no such thing.”

“Like hell you're not. So either keep your ass still or I'm going to sleep somewhere else.”

“Fine,” she pouts dramatically.  

“What's the favour?”

“I need you to dye my hair.”

“What?”

“I want to go back to what it was before. I don't want to keep the red. There's too much but shit associated with it. I bought some baby friendly hair dye but I can't do it myself because I have this stupid thing in my hand.”

“Why can't you ask Nik? This is a girl thing. She's a girl.”

“Because I don't want Nik to do it, I want you to do it. Please? I know it's not your usual thing, but you're always asking what you can do help me and right now, this is what I need help with. I know you're used to kicking ass and taking names, but  I'd really like it if you'd do this for me. Because you love me. And you want me to look pretty again.”

“You look pretty now. I like the red.”

“But you liked my normal hair more, right?”

“Yeah, but...”

“Please? It's not that hard. You know how to read. There's instructions on the box. There's no way you can screw it up. Please, baby? I'll make it up to you. And for the record, they didn't say we can't have sex. I have to avoid stress, not orgasms. And those calm me down, so...”

“Not while they're happening you're not calm. If all the bite marks on my shoulders and my neck and the scratches on my back have anything to say about it. So until I hear a doctor say it's okay, looks like I'm going to studying alone for a while. And yes. I will dye your hair. Even if it makes me the most whipped husband on the entire planet.”

“It doesn't make you the most whipped husband on the entire planet. It makes you the most awesome husband on the planet,” she declares, and he grins and presses a kiss to her cheek.  “I'm glad you're here,” she says. “You didn't have to come all this way and you know you didn't.”

“Yeah, I did. Because you needed me. And I've fucked up a lot and I've got things to make up for.  I'm sorry, baby. For everything. Not just this McMann bullshit. But everything. Every shitty decision I ever made. Every promise I ever broke. All the times I took you for granted and made you think I didn't love you.”

“I've never thought that. You've never made me think that way or feel that way. That's one thing you've always been good at. Making sure I didn't feel that way.”

“I've been a shitty fucking husband. And you probably never should have taken me back when we split up for six months. But you did. And you keep putting up with my shit. For some reason.”

“I told you. When a girl gets good dick, she has to hold onto it.”

He laughs at that. “I'm being serious here.”

“So am I. It's good dick. Like insanely good. So...”

“You know,  maybe it's actually been me putting up with you,” he teases.

“I think it's been both. I think we both drive each other insane sometimes. Yet neither of us ever want to walk away. At least not for good.”

“There's no other place I want to be than with you and my kids. You know that? And now...” he gently pats her stomach, kisses her temple. “...we got this little bean on the way and we've got five million reasons not to stick around here. We can go wherever we want. Raise our kids wherever we want.”

“Australia,” she says. “I just want to go back to Australia. A small town, this time. Nice and quiet. Close to the beach. You used to always take Millie to the beach and she was just a baby then.  The boys would love it. They're so much like you. Especially Tyler. He wants to do everything you do.  If anyone was meant to be a junior, it's that kid. He idolizes you. They all do. But especially him.  You know they'd love it there. And I know you want to go back. You were happy here, but never as happy as you were there. We were both happier there. We can find a house near the beach that's perfect for us. In some nice sleepy town where no one knows us. We can just start over. Sounds good, right?”

He nods and places a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Sounds perfect.”

“You'll be the hottest dad in the school pick up line for sure.”

Tyler laughs at that. “I have to do school pick up?”

“And drop offs. That will be your thing. And you can be the one that relocates the spiders and the snakes that get into the house.”

“Baby, for you, I will relocate all the snakes and the spiders that try to make themselves at home.”

“Because you'll stay nice and calm and I'll just burn the house down. We're going to find something for you to keep busy. You're not the kind that can sit still for very long.”

“There'll be lots to do. Even with Millie and the twins in school, we'll still have the Ginger at home and....”

“The Ginger?  Is that what we're calling him now?” she laughs.  

“He has red hair.”

“You have red in your hair and in your beard. You can  especially see it when you're out in the sun.”

“My head isn't red.  His is.”

“He's strawberry blond. Your mother was a strawberry blond. That's where he got it from.”

“I don' know, Esme....” he grins. “...I'm starting to think it wasn't a coincidence that he was conceived on the same day the cable guy came here to 'fix something'.”

“Oh my god, for the last time, it was not the cable guy. It was the UPS delivery guy. Get it right.”

“Isn't the UPS guy Mexican?”

“He's actually Filipino.”

“Which does not explain why Declan has red hair in the slightest.”

“Well, something must have went wrong. Don't worry, baby. This one is definitely yours. There were no cable outages or deliveries that day.”

“You're a fucking shit,” he laughs, and rubs his beard against the side of her neck, until she's wriggling and laughing against him. “Now that I think about it, isn't Declan an Irish name? Because I'm not Irish. And neither are you. So what's up with that? What nationality is that pizza guy that has the hots for you?”

“You're the one who picked Declan off the baby name list. You didn't like any of the other names. So that's on you.  And this one is up to you, too. You said the last two were your choices.”

“Wait...wait...that is not what I said. That's not what I said at all. I got to pick one of the twins and The Ginger.”

“Yeah, you picked Tanner and gave me a hard time about Tyler. Like what? That's your name for crying out loud! And you didn't even want one of them to have your name.”

“I didn't see a reason to have a reason to have a Junior.”

“Most men want a Junior,” she reasons.

“Baby, I ain't like most men.”

“Okay, I'll give you that.  But I wanted him to be named after you.  It's cute. A Tyler and a Tyler Junior. Regardless of what you think. And it worked. Because he looks and acts exactly like you.  Remember in the delivery room? Even that one nurse that was holding him was like 'oh my god, you look so much like your daddy'.”

He grins. “Lucky kid.”

“This one better look like me.”

“Probably look like the Filipino UPS driver.”

“Would you stop?” she giggles. “And his name is Manny.”

“Fuck, you're even on first name basis with him? Now I am starting to worry.”

“Like I'm going to choose Manny over you. What about that girl in town that works at the grocery store? That cute blond that always bats her eyelashes at you whenever she sees you. The one who told the lady waiting in line behind us that one time that you had a nice ass.”

“Oh yeah. Cheryl. The one that asked if I'd flex so she could feel my biceps.”

“Fuck Cheryl. And fuck you...” she digs her elbow into his stomach. “...for indulging the little tramp.”

“I never agreed to it. I'd never do that. She did grab my tricep once though when I was putting Declan in the seat.”

“I will fucking go there and beat the shit out of her. I don't care if I'm pregnant. I will go there and drag her out into the street and hand her ass. Who does that? And you having the damn nerve to know her first name.”

“She wears a name tag.”

“Which they wear on their chests so technically, you were looking at her boobs. So, you deserve to be studying alone for a while.”

“You know Manny's first name. I didn't know his name was Manny.”

“Tyler, you don't anyone's first name because you are not a people person. You're a scare people person.  Unless they're cashiers at the grocery store who like to feel you up apparently.”

“Oh, so now you're a people person. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Being a 'people person'.”  He makes air quotes around the last two words.  

“I will kill you in your sleep. No hesitations.”

Grinning, he presses a kiss to the side of her neck. “You were definitely a people person when we met. Especially in that hotel room in Dhaka.”

“You're such a dick,” she laughs.

“You were very...what's the word...personable...with me in Dhaka.”

“You're too much,” she declares.  “Now I know why I still stay married to you. Because we can do things like this. Joke around. We don't take each other too seriously. We can say shit like this and neither of us get upset.”

“I don't know, I'm pretty pissed that you know the UPS guy's first name.”

“Let it go, baby. I promise that little bean will not come out half Filipino. He or she is definitely yours. There's no one else I'd rather get dicked down by than you.”

“That's because no one can dick you down like I can.”

She smiles. “Exactly.”

“And it's a girl. It is definitely a girl.”

“We'll see...” she singsongs. “And if it is, we should name her after your mom.”

“Adaline?”

Esme nods.  “And Olivia. After Ovi. I think he'd like that. He's done so much for us. He really stepped up when it came to taking the kids and getting away. He was probably scared shitless and he's dealing with stuff from Dhaka so you know it wasn't easy for him. But he still did it. Mostly for you, because he idolizes you.”

“Yeah, I'd think he'd like that.”

“So Adaline Olivia Rake,” she concludes.  “I think it sounds beautiful.”

“I think it sounds perfect,” he doesn't bother hiding the tears that threaten. He'd been just a boy when his mother had died; not even a teen. So to have that kind of homage paid to her...

“We can call her Addie. So we'd have a Millie and an Addie.”

“And a Ginger.”

“Stop calling him that!” she directs another elbow at his stomach.  “What is wrong with you?”

“I can't help it that he has red hair. What do you want me to call him?”

“His name would be nice. The name you picked. He's going to have a complex when he's older if you call him that to his face. He's going to need therapy.”

“Well, I'll take him with me. Start him off young.”

“I'm proud of you,” she says. “For stepping up after our fight. You could have went the opposite direction. Like trashed the hotel room and got black out drunk. But you didn't. You owned your shit and got it together right now. I'm so proud of you, Tyler.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek. “I've got a long way to go, though.”

“I know,” she settles back into him once again.  “And I'll help you get there.”

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 3: Insane Mindscrew Haymakers (Part 2)

CHEL: Rose finds a transportaliser platform in the centre of the lab.

FAILURE ARTIST: The sylladex misadventures come to something this time. Jasper’s corpse lands on the pad.

CHEL: The dead cat vanishes; Rose assumes it was vapourised but we know better, though we don’t see where it went. She finds an unlocked hub and plugs in, noticing another ominous countdown on the wall, with only three minutes left till the lab will be “UNESTABLISHED”.

Years in the future again, PM beheads the worm creature, which turns out to be a robot. The bunker landed on its side so PM stands on a pile of mailboxes to press the button, which causes more robot worms to emerge from beneath the bunker, pushing it upright, and a propeller to emerge from the top and carry it away.

Dave’s strife with Bro continues, getting more and more ridiculous and animesque, until Dave ends up plummeting down the stairwell. In a realistic work, this could quite easily break his neck, but here we just get some comical flailing and a SBaHJ IT KEEPS HAPPENING macro. Again, Dave looks more angry than afraid.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 8

FAILURE ARTIST: I think Hussie said the Bro slicing the Abscond box is symbolic of the trap of child abuse and shows this guardian fight isn’t like the others but it is still an animesque fight that ends with a fucking meme.

CHEL: Yeah, he seems to be expecting us to pick up on these details which don’t mean anything until he actually explains them, which would be fine and in fact clever if they didn’t conflict so strongly with what’s actually noticeably shown. If he wanted us to take it seriously, he’d have done better not to put the Abscond button there at all.

Rose finds, in the lab, a console showing SBurb sessions in the northeastern US where her home is located, monitoring the time to impact of their respective meteors. There is a large cluster of already-landed ones around her house, with a much, much bigger one centred directly on the lab, with an even bigger one centred on the house. She zooms out, and finds the second-biggest upcoming impact in the world is heading for Texas, while one bigger by an order of magnitude will later land in the middle of the Pacific. "Oh look, up in the sky/ It's a hole about the size of Texas..."

"Circus Contraption - Hot Potato" (Watch on YouTube)

Checking on John’s house, Rose finds it overrun by imps, the building shaking violently. Investigating this, she finds the ogre fight; John is at least getting a few blows in now, but they’re still not doing much good. Nannasprite is able to provide support with eye beams, but the ogres are still standing, and Rose’s attempt to drop a fridge on one is useless too. Nannasprite’s teleportation proves more useful, allowing John to take a flying leap out of a hovering oven to strike with greater force and allowing her to drop a full avalanche of household appliances on the ogre. With Rose’s assistance providing him a platform to bounce off again, John strikes the final blow on one ogre, exploding it into grist pieces bigger than himself, and Nannasprite and John occupy the other ogre until Rose drops the alchemiter on it.

FAILURE ARTIST: Seeing a fight like this not long after the Bro and Dave fight makes it hard for me to take the serious one seriously. John should be dead.

CHEL: John has a backup healer and Dave doesn’t, but yeah, cartoon physics prevail here.

Rose checks in, explaining that Dave’s not connected yet, but that she’s determined that activating the cruxtruder does not actually cause the meteor to strike. John levels up to BOY-SKYLARK and collects tons of grist and boondollars, although he still doesn’t know what those actually do.

You can't wait to find out what amazing items this new supply of grist will be just barely insufficient to produce.

Hehehe. We’ve all been there.

John sees that more grist fell down to the platform below, including one huge piece stuck in the hole leading into Dad’s room.

One of those big SOUR GRAPE ELECTRIC HOLOCAUST FRUIT GUSHERS is jammed in the hole in the platform. CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 9

Yes, because Holocaust references are a perfect way to describe candy flavours. Technically “holocaust” can refer to, I quote from dictionary.com, “a great or complete devastation or destruction, especially by fire”, and I’m guessing it’s a parody of all the flavour names with words like “explosion” in them, but, especially when it’s not obviously uncapitalised, that’s very much not what the immediate association of the term is!

FAILURE ARTIST: John asks Nanna why she doesn’t just throw him up to the gate and she says it’s important he build up himself. Though later we do see a character that just jumps up to the gate.

Then we switch to a mysterious castle all in purple. Dad is fighting some imps with shaving cream. A new yet somehow familiar character wearing harlequin clothes watches with disgust both Dad and John on strange window screens.

We cut away yet again to Peregrine Mendicant. PM is still stuck in the mobile station with a letter addressed to David Brinner. There was a real person who went by the alias Doctor Brinner on his Portland-area radio show where he played a mad scientist. Dr. David Brinner is also a comic Hussie made before Homestuck. I’ve never read it myself. I didn’t even know it existed until I googled David Brinner.

Anyway, PM refuses to open this letter and gives stirring speeches that sound like they come from a movie (Kevin Costner’s Postman?) but I don’t think they do.

BRIGHT: PM believes very strongly in the purpose of mail delivery as the bedrock of civilisation. It comes across as funny, but not as mocking.

FAILURE ARTIST: PM then turns to the terminal. Jade appears on a screen shrouded in green static. PM finds Jade familiar. Unfortunately, before PM can converse with Jade, the terminal explodes.

Cut back again to Rose in the lab. There’s lots of cutesy pink little girl stuff down there that Rose decides to ignore. Why is it down there? Did Mom expect Rose to live there one day?

CHEL: I thought it was supposed to signal that Mom was living down there herself.

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, Rose also finds a mutant cat.

We cut away again to John contemplating going into his father’s bedroom through a hole in the roof. He decides to do it.

Cut to a fireplace with a portrait of Jade above it. It looks similar to Nanna’s shrine, minus the urn. But Jade isn’t dead, is she? She scampers right into the room the next panel. She arms herself with a huge rifle and tries to sneak across the room. However, her Grandpa appears, shadowed by the huge fire that suddenly lit up in the fireplace. She tries to run away only to fall asleep.

We cut to Dave’s final round - or rather, Jade fighting her Grandpa. Who, in another surprise, is a taxidermed corpse.

She talks to him like he’s alive, though after it, she says he was easier to deal with when he was alive. This disturbing state of affairs is never treated seriously.

CHEL: This, more than anything else, is why we set up the ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY count. Horrible as Bro would be by any realistic standards, at least Dave’s guardian is obviously living and Dave is not merrily talking away to a dead person. We later find out that Jade was the one who taxidermied Grandpa, while she was barely more than a toddler. Not only was she actually able to do this to professional standards, at an age when she shouldn’t have been handling sharp objects at all, but she displays no trauma from it, nor from having had to raise herself. And yet we’re supposed to take Dave’s issues seriously, and to a much lesser extent Rose’s, with no real indication that they’re any different.

TIER: It's one thing when an author's intended depiction of “an abusive household” for the most part flies over people's heads due to the absurdity of the whole situation when it initially got presented, that happens sometimes! Especially when one factors in Bro's total screen time, how he generally ticks the boxes for “absurd but really cool” guy visually, and how late in the game this knowledge was spelled out. It all comes together to make the whole Strider situation kinda come out of left field to judge people for finding the absurd situation funny.

But when it's sitting right next to the arguably worse scenario (stuffed.dead.guardian.) and the latter pretty much never gets brought up while the former gets a big ol’ spotlight shining down on it, yeah that's what the folks call Fucking Weird and in my personal opinion, suspect Ò_Ó.

CHEL: While I can’t really state one way or the other at this point, I do think it’s worth considering a reason that has already been brought up by a non-Homestucker; in the scenarios we’re not supposed to take seriously, the children are girls. I doubt this was even slightly what Hussie intended, but it certainly explains a lot about the fandom’s reactions. The more likely scenario regarding the canon explanation is probably that the ones we’re not supposed to take seriously are not Hussie’s self-insert.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 9

BRIGHT: Not to mention, Jade grew up on an island in the middle of the ocean, physically isolated from any other people and with only an animal for company. There are known cases of children who grew up in similar circumstances in real life. Suffice to say, it generally does not end well.

You could argue that Jade is pretending her Grandpa is alive because she’s lonely and needs the company, but this is in no way implied by the text.

At any rate, Jade informs her grandfather that the rifle she has is perfectly adequate for killing things and she doesn’t need his oversized blunderbuss.

CHEL: To be strictly fair, we do later find out she had some contact with other people, but not in a way which I feel would be a substitute for having a living human parent in the “real” world.

FAILURE ARTIST: With Jade out the door, we go again to PM. They are fine except for some cartoon burn marks and a fire on their hood. The metal snake saves their precious mailbox.

BRIGHT: It earns PM’s affection for doing so.

Back at the lab, Rose utterly fails to ignore the four-eyed mutant kitten. She carries it over to a peculiar machine that turns out to be another Appearifier. This one is locked onto her cat, Jaspers, nine years ago. Not only was he alive, but the younger Rose was holding a psychotherapy session with him.

Rose attempts to appearify Jaspers, but since this would cause a time paradox, the machine leaves Jaspers in place and instead produces a ‘Paradox Clone’, which swiftly collapses into green slime. The machine next to the appearifier sucks up the paradox sludge, analyses its genetic sequence, and spits out another cat, rather more mutated than the last, in a process referred to as ‘Ectobiology’.

CHEL: John’s screen name, we remind you, is “ectoBiologist”, so it seems he heard of the concept somewhere, perhaps?

BRIGHT: On the appearifier’s screen, Jaspers reveals a stunning secret to young Rose, and is appearified to an unknown location before he can clarify anything. Two weeks later, his corpse reappeared. Oddly, the appearifier can’t see his whereabouts for the intervening period.

It can, however, see where his body went when it landed on the pad earlier! Rose appearifies the corpse and hightails it out of the lab, using the transportaliser to make her escape before the meteor can hit.

FAILURE ARTIST: If you click on the pink horseshoe that appears at the end of the Rose: Fast Forward To Now flash, there’s a little animation of Rose enjoying Maplehoof. I guess she’s making up for the loss of her precious Jaspers.

BRIGHT: We make a brief detour back to Jade, who’s searching for Becquerel. Two new things about Jade’s mysterious abilities: One, Becquerel is invisible to them. Two, this is unusual enough that it used to disturb her. Becquerel appears briefly in the background, and there’s clearly something strange about him…

CHEL: Additionally, it was clearly his face that was carved on the pumpkin we saw earlier, and he looks canine but it’s hard to make out details at this point...

BRIGHT: But before we can find out more, the comic jumps back to John.

Now in his Dad’s room, John is struck by an unwelcome discovery — there aren’t any clowns. Not on posters, no figurines. His father’s briefcase, rather than being full of the tools of a street performer, holds only boring papers and spreadsheets. In fact, the room is pretty boring...like his Dad is just a normal businessman?

"[S] John: Examine your dad's room." (Watch on YouTube)

FAILURE ARTIST: I wish more had been made of Bing “Douchebag” Crosby in this comic but that’s just me being an old movie nerd.

BRIGHT: While John attempts to recover from the BSOD this causes, his father breaks out of a jail cell armed with a safe. This is watched with displeasure by another black figure in brightly-coloured clothing, whose name is not Spades Slick. (He likes the ring of that, though.) No, he’s Archagent Jack Noir, and he oversees the affairs of a dark kingdom through three fenestrated walls.

CHEL: He usually has a fourth one but it got stolen.

FAILURE ARTIST: Those fingers typing the name Spades Slick are a suspicious color...

BRIGHT: He also despises the jester outfits everyone has been forced to wear, and refuses to don his comical hat until the Queen hijacks his fenestrated wall and orders him to wear it. The wall cuts back to Dad, who has now disarmed an especially burly-looking agent and is punching him in the head.

CHEL: Jack Noir makes mention of his carapace at this point; I don’t remember if his species is also referred to as “carapaces” in the comic but that’s the name the fandom knows them by. Guess we’ll see if they are as we go on.

BRIGHT: Meanwhile, John opens some birthday presents he found in his Dad’s room! He gets some Fruit Gushers, a very dapper suit, and best of all, an Array Fetch Modus, which lets him retrieve an item from any card in his deck! Of course, this would be too straightforward, so he combines it with his other Fetch Modii until he gets something properly inconvenient.

FAILURE ARTIST: How much do Modii cost and does everyone in this universe have one?

CHEL: The implication is tech like this is how Skaianet made its money, but since we never really see anyone who’s not involved somehow with the game, we don’t really get a good sense of the company being part of the world, so we don’t know. If I had to guess, though, I’d think getting the sylladex in the first place costs a big lump sum and then the various fetch modii cost much smaller amounts, sort of like apps on a phone or programs on a computer.

When prompted, John closely examines the Fruit Gushers box, this flavour being “MASSIVE TROPICAL BRAIN HEMORRHAGE”. Tasty…? John thinks so. However, in the corner of the box is a small, easily-missed logo…

THE HEINOUS BATTERWITCH HAS HER GNARLED CLAWS IN EVERYTHING.

After the destruction of his planet, the disappearance of his father, the appearance of his ghost grandma, and fighting numerous monsters, THIS is what finally sends John over the edge into a full-out meltdown, despite the onscreen caption declaring that THIS IS STUPID.

FAILURE ARTIST: I actually have a box of Fruit Gushers signed by Andrew Hussie.

CHEL: Back on the island, Jade, accompanied by dramatic music, attempts to retrieve a blue package from the ruins, but just as she reaches it, Becquerel appears between her and it, and we snap right back into STRIFE!

"[S] Jade: Retrieve package." (Watch on YouTube)

Becquerel, as we can now see clearly, is an enormous white dog, lacking facial features of any kind and emitting crackling green lightning - worthy of the description “devilbeast”, I think. Jade aims her rifle at his head and takes multiple shots, but none hit. The first heats up and melts into nothingness. When the second is fired Becquerel turns into green fire and next frame he and Jade are both riding on the now-enormous bullet which carries them across the lagoon to the other side of the island. Becquerel teleports the third bullet into space and himself and Jade to the top of the frog building, and he teleports himself out of the way of the fourth, the background flashing through several different locations. Finally, Jade shoots a bullet in the opposite direction with the instruction GO FETCH!, which Bec does, giving Jade time to grab the package. She rewards Bec for fetching with the irradiated steak and announces that he is a GOOD DOG, BEST FRIEND. After dancing around in celebration, she very abruptly falls asleep again, and Bec scoops her up on his back, takes her back to bed, and tucks her in.

FAILURE ARTIST: The music in Jade: Retrieve Package

is another replacement. Currently it’s An Unbreakable Union by Robert Blake but originally it was Mutiny by Bill Bolin. The original is very retro science fiction and the replacement is safari.

CHEL: For the record, real dogs are not horses and are not built to carry people like that, even very small children can damage a large dog’s back by riding it, but given Bec’s abilities, I don’t think that applies to him.

Rose comes out the other side of the transportaliser, she and the cat having both kept their atoms unmingled, and discovers she’s back in the house, in the room she thought was her mother’s bedroom. It seems the cutesy pink bed and stuff in the lab was in fact her mother’s bedroom, and this room is a well-stocked bar.

You decide not to be especially melodramatic about this revelation.

Good idea, Rose; there isn’t time, as the lab is promptly unestablished by a meteor, sending flaming debris flying through the window. The booze-filled room is especially endangered by this, so Rose decides to flee.

John punches some more cards and complains that he’s the one doing the work while Rose is just messing around on her computer, while Jade dreams and little red lights on her bedposts glow. A metal cabinet in the corner of her room has similar red lights on top, and it bursts open, revealing a Jade-shaped robot.

Sudden cut to a mysterious copy of Jade’s bedroom, except with pink walls, in which Jade stands, wearing a golden dress. Back in her real room, the DREAMBOT stands in the same position. The gold-clad Jade is, we find, a depiction of Jade in her dream. Dream Jade tries to get into bed, but complains of a heavy weight pressing down on her, as the robot is copying her actions and is now lying on top of the real sleeping Jade. Instead, she decides to fly, which of course she can do since it’s a dream (and the robot has jet propulsion).

The dream room also contains the blue package, addressed to “GG” from “GT”. This isn’t John’s current handle, but she knows it’s from John, and that she must deliver it to somewhere else without opening it.

Flashback to the previous winter. In a shot of John’s window, we see his calendar and the edges of some of his posters. The calendar is marked with smiley faces in party hats in green, red, and purple, marking Jade, Dave, and Rose’s birthdays, but more noticeably, there are creepy faces with jester hats and huge teeth scrawled on the wall and posters. I didn’t notice it until just now, but there are some purple lines on the arm of one of the poster characters which might just be part of a drawn-on clown outfit but from this vantage point look like self-harm scars. Brr. Ominous.

John at this point in time is going by “ghostyTrickster” on Pesterchum, hence the “GT” nametag on the package. He’s chatting to Jade about having sent off everyone’s birthday gifts, and how he hopes Jade’s will “help you solve those problems you’ve been having lately”. John is embarrassed to realise it will take much longer than he thought for the package to reach Jade’s island, but she assures him it will arrive “exactly when it needs to”.

BRIGHT: With the reveal of John’s previous handle, and from the characters in the Trollslum, we also get the theme of the handle initials being the letters of DNA. (GCAT.)

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade complains about “trolls” and we have the first time this beloved and perhaps overshadowing species is named. However, John calls the “trolls” the r-slur so that’s another point.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 10

CHEL: Also, the trolls are why he changed his handle, in an attempt to avoid them bothering him.

FAILURE ARTIST: We go back to current day. John is peeved at the graffiti on his posters. He thinks it’s the imps. However, we just saw it was there months before. What is going on, hmmm?

Rose decides to name the cat Vodka Mutini. She then talks with John. Rose wonders where Dave is and John figures that Bro is kicking his ass. Considering that this ass-kicking is later treated as serious abuse, this is a callous thing for a friend to say.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 10

CHEL: I’d also say that counts as HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING. There’s not much an internet friend can do about someone’s abusive situation on the other side of the country but they could at least support Dave and tell him to call the police, if it is supposed to be that bad. Or at least, you know, be worried. Then again, Dave might not have told them what the ass-kicking entails, but Rose knows about his brother’s websites, and given that we know Bro made at least one film in which Dave was involved and may or may not have been on camera, and the film certainly would show the state the apartment was in…

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 4

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, when John complains about his posters being defaced, Rose says they always looked that way. John naturally freaks out at this creepy revelation.

We cut to WV. They are trying to get down from the mobile station without sacrificing the MAYORAL SASH. While working the Appearifier, they get John’s present with an envelope addressed to “Mister Mayor”. After WV gets more cable, they rappel down the mobile station with the package under their arm.

Meanwhile, a figure in yellow caution tape watches WV through a sniper rifle. This is Aimless Renegade, a wonderful but forgotten character.

We go back to John and Rose. John discusses the mystery of the defaced posters while he futzes around with the Alchemiter. Rose thinks that John had blocked out the memory of defacing the posters and the revelation that his father isn’t who he thought he was unblocked his memory. She thinks maybe his father thought he was interested in clowns because John drew clowns everywhere. Yet John also wrote “LAME KID”? Maybe Dad should have taken John to therapy.

CHEL: “Lame kid” with arrows pointing down at his bed, to be exact, among other insults, and the clown faces don’t look like the product of someone who liked clowns at all!

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 11 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 5

Yet Dad Egbert is supposed to be the good parent of the group, so here we go with a new count:

RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 1

This one’s primarily for romantic relationships, but other relationship fumbles apply too.

Rose thinks that the drawings are the result of John trying to express something subconscious, possibly a repressed past memory. John changes the subject to the upward building process; Rose complains that chimneys weren’t meant to bear such a weight, and considers switching to walls now they can get grist more easily, but she’s running out of time as the house proper is now on fire. John blames Dave, so I think we can assume that either they don’t know his brother forces him into swordfights or they don’t think it’s a problem. Which one is hard to determine.

FAILURE ARTIST: We cut to Jade playing a bass solo so advanced it doesn’t have a bass line. Another Bolin replacement. We find out Dream Jade is in a castle on a planet that’s a gold copy of the one Jack Noir and co are on. While flying around, she sees an inhabitant that looks familiar. CHEL: This is what I was referring to when I said Jade did have some contact with people; she is able to contact the carapaces in her dreams. However, the carapaces are, as we’ve seen from WV and company, somewhat childlike in behaviour, living in a society that’s nothing like Earth’s, biologically not the same as humans so they couldn’t easily advise her if she got ill or injured, and they don’t appear to be able or willing to speak, at least not most of the time and/or in a way the humans could understand, not to mention they would have no way to physically assist her in the waking world so she’d still have to raise herself from a very young age. Hence, why I don’t think they’re a substitute for an actual human parent.