#thanks snakesarenonexistent

[no-1481]

Sorry this ended up being really long.

Get to know ur mutuals better tag thing from @snakesarenonexistent

Star sign: Gemini

Height: 5'11" ~

First 4 songs when iTunes/Spotify on shuffle

(My Spotify playlist is called guess the musical and has 100hrs of music so isn't particularly reflective of what I like to listen to)

Spotify

Spooky Mormon Hell Dream (BOM)

Dear Baby (Waitress)

Join The Parade (Tuck)

28 Hours (CFA)

iTunes

Left Behind (OBC SA)

Mama Who Bore Me (London SA)

One More At Deluxe (Island Song)

Beautiful Morning (JJ)

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Haha. nope

When was the last time you played guitar?

Based on the amount of dust, probably a year ago.

(I'm very bad!)

Celebrity crush?

Kinda torn between Andy Mientus and Jeremy Jordan

What's a sound that you hate/what's a sound that you love?

Hate

Any sound a mouth makes (most talking, those disgusting eating sounds, just all of it. Singing is acceptable)

Love

There aren't many sounds (other than beautiful singing) that I really like, most things just drive me mad so I wear headphones at all times to drown everything else out. Sorry :(

One just occurred to me, sorry, when there’s just silence (in class) then all of a sudden someone really quickly starts scribbling cause they just got the answer. I kinda love that mad panic before u forget how u got there

Do you believe in ghosts?

Nope

Do you believe in aliens?

The universe is very big, it seems really self centred and egotistical to assume that only our planet has life. So yep. I like to think there's some awesome stuff out there. Also it's less scary than we alone are hurtling through a near infinite black void. : )

What was the last book you read?

The Element In The Room or Fermat's Last Theorem, can't remember which but they were both great and would recommend them both!

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Can't say that I hate the smell of petrol/diesel but definitely don't love it

What's the worse injury you ever had?

Haven't broken any bones or anything like that so it's nothing major but...

Couple years ago I was longboarding (in flip flops) down my street then I sort of wobbled and turned into my neighbours fence. Side note: when you stand on a longboard and put your weight on it it bends down in the middle. The board went under their white picket fence (with my feet still on top) I fell backwards. And so the weight came of the board and pushed my feet into the bottom of their fence. It wasn't nice, there was lots of blood and tears and now I have two parallel scars down the side of my foot from where I pulled my foot out. : ) fun

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Hell yes. As of mid-June.

Nope :)

Do you tend to hold grudges against people that have done you wrong?

Omg yes. I'm so petty. Sometimes they don't even have to have done anything wrong to me. But recently discovered there's only one person I have ever actually Hated. Like hated, hated.

In a relationship?

Nope!! Never been in one actually. (People have a tendency to not like me cause I don’t bother with tact or genuine human emotion)

I guess I’m supposed to tag people now so...

@the-last-five-newsies

And anyone else that wants to :)

Hi, do a thing, I’m curious.

This is completely irrelevant it’s just that hurricane from death note is playing at the moment. Can I say that that is such a great song! Srsly love it!

[tofangirlonly]

Hello, I'm not sure if this counts as a questionable hour, but please sleep! Sleep is good! Do the sleep!

Hello! I did sleep! Good morning!

[signals-over-the-air]

your new colors are so pretty!!

thank you!!!

I realized my old ones were really AHHH IN YOUR FACE so I wanted to make it more chill, u feel?

[santasfes]

Prologue, Picture Show, When I Drive?

Prologue: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Hopefully either studying musical theatre in university or having left university and be trying to pursue a career in musical theatre! And also fingers crossed that I’ll have more of my musical done and have a proper plot idea for it and be trying to work on that too

Picture Show: What is your dream profession, whether realistic or not?

To work in musical theatre as a performer and to be a playwright, lyricist and composer of my own musical. For a very non realistic one it’d be to have superpowers and be a superhero cause I’m a little too obsessed with superheroes xD

When I Drive: Describe your hobbies or something you’re really good at?

My hobbies include writing stories and songs, reading about astrology and personality types, occasionally singing, drawing, watching stuff about true crime and paranormal stuff and obsessively listening to Jeremy 

[jackkellys]

Your brand is being super funny? Like your yelling posts?

aldhakdhsjhd SNAKES this is all i ask to be remembered for

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

Hi! You’re! Lovely! Yay! For! You!

[theragamuffininitiative]

tag ten mutuals

tagged by @snakesarenonexistent​

:D Thank you!

Star Sign: The zodiac is ridiculous, I put no stock in it, and nothing against this tag but I’m tired that all ask/tag things want to know this. like. why.

Height: smol

Put your itunes (or spotify) on shuffle, what are the first four songs that popped up?

Still Hurting - The Last Five Years

Without You - Matt Hammitt

Things We Lost in the Fire - Bastille

Bridges Burn - Needtobreathe

Ever have a song or poem written about you? Not to my knowledge?

When was the last time you played guitar? A few months ago. *thinks guiltily of my beautiful instrument* I should remedy that. Ya know, in-between work and writing and socializing and making these two boxes I swear I will finish before October ends...

Who is your celebrity crush? ha. hahahahahaa.

What’s a sound you hate and a sound you love? I hate low/deep droning noises that carry on. I once was woken/kept awake by a train a couple miles away that seemed to just drone forever and I felt like it might actually drive me insane - being woken at 3am will do that to you though. Sound I love: my dear tagger said the tuning of an orchestra and heck yeah. Also the sound of rain.

Do you believe in ghosts? Not as such, no.

How about aliens? Not as in intelligent life. If God felt like creating living organisms on another planet somewhere? I mean, he’s God and he does as he pleases, but given basic theology, it’s improbable at best.

What was the last book you read? I just finished the audiobook of C. S. Lewis’ The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses. I want to listen to it again to glean more than what I could take in the first time. Currently also reading The Song of the Quarkbeast and a few nonfictions.

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Weird question, but actually yes. I do a lot, always have.

What’s the worst injury you have ever had? When I was really little my family had this table with a set of chairs with rollers on the feet. Whoever invented rolling dining room chairs should be taken out back and scolded. I wanted something on the table, and being tiny, got up a little in my chair and leaned forward. The chair slipped, my forehead struck the edge of the table, and I ended up in the hospital with stitches. I still have the scar. Explains a lot, no?

Do you have any obsessions right now? Yes, obviously, everything JJ has ever done. Duh. Goes without saying. I’m also obsessed with trying to get my new apartment, and with everything autumn that has come in. :D :D

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? No, not usually? I hope not, I tend to be pretty forgiving. I have one relationship that involves a lot of complicating things over time that I’m trying to move past, but it’s complicated and a currently unraveling thing so we’ll see. Also that one time I was sitting on a couch while Colin Donnell and Patti Murin were playing less than thirty minutes away with free seats available and I couldn’t go. XD

In a relationship? Where are you guys? #single

I taaaaaag any of my mutuals who love these things. Alternatively, if you’ve done a similar ask to this, send me an ask answering the ones that interest you, or just post them, whatever. It’s a getting to know you meme. Enjoy! ^_^

[boytoykevinday]

a kiss from a rose; almer

Ship: Almer Era: Modern Words: 1200 Editing: None Prompt/request: None. Warnings: swearing, displays of affection, mention of panic attack Other: side Ravey, Jojo is beautiful, Race is dramatic.

Or the one where a kiss on the cheek changes Albert’s life, a bet is made, and Elmer just wants Al to pick him up.

“Right, I won’t be home when you’re done because Race is having an emergency - Davey’s probably wearing a suit again, or he sneezed and it was cute, or he breathed in Race’s presence - so God knows how long I’ll be.”

“See you when Race has gotten over seeing Dave’s collar bone, or whatever.”

“You have your keys?”

Elmer rolls his eyes, but pats his pockets. He nods. “Thanks, Dad, what would I do without you?”

Albert rolls his eyes right back. “Have you forgotten anything else?”

Elmer pauses to think. After a moment he nods again and reaches forward to press a kiss to Albert’s cheek.

And with a grin, he leaves. Albert is stood still in the doorway for another minute.

He can feel himself blushing as he brings his hand up to his cheek like some fucking disney princess.

Fuck. Guess he better stop making fun of Race for his crush on Davey.

-

He was an hour late to meet Race. Luckily there was already a small party there.

“‘Sup, Tom, Finch, Jojo. Did you fix him?”

Race throws himself on to the sofa with a groan and begins to attempt to suffocate himself with a cushion.

“What was it this time?”

“It was a doozy,” Finch says. “Saw him in just a towel.”

“I know it’s creepy but he was dripping,” comes Race’s muffled reply.

The others roll their eyes.

“You ever going to tell him?”

Race removes his fusion to send Albert a betrayed look. “And ruin our friendship? He’d move out! He’d hate me! I’m changing the subject. Al - why were you an hour late?”

“Uh -” Suddenly three sets of eyes are on him. He shrugs. “Panic attack, bro.”

Race rushes to stand, tripping over his own feet, and practically runs to give him a hug. “Oh, dude, why didn’t you say?”

He shrugs again, returning the hug. “Too busy making fun of you.”

Race pulls back and hits him. “Ass.”

Albert just hits him back.

“Ow,” Race cries. “You’re stronger than me, pull your punches.”

Albert hits him once more.

“You’re not allowed to hit me until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why did none of you tell me I was in love with Elmer?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I told you!” Race yells. “Pay up!”

Finch groans. “How were we supposed to know he’s an idiot?”

Race sends him a droll look. “He’s Albert. Of course he’s an idiot.”

Albert doesn’t even try to object, because he’s definitely an idiot who very possibly could have been in love with his roommate for two years.

“So, what happened then?”

“He kissed me-” there were shouts that he yells over “- on the cheek!”

“So you discovered your gay love because he kissed you on the cheek?” Race raises an eyebrow. “I kiss you on the lips daily.”

“You’re not Elmer, Race,” Tommy Boy sighs. “He’s much cuter.”

Race nods, giving him that. “You gonna talk about your feelings, bro?”

“Can I?” Albert can hear his voice crack and hates it.

“Al, I know you don’t usually,” Jojo says, “but you’ve listened to all of us - especially Race - whine about our own feelings. Of course you can.”

“I uh - asked if he’d forgotten anything, and he nodded then kissed me.”

Race squeals. “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Everything Elmer does is the cutest fucking thing.”

Race squeals louder. “No, that - Albert pining - is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Whatever, you have zero room to talk about pining after a roommate.”

“Well, no, but I’ve accepted my lot. When are you going to tell him?”

“When are you going to tell Davey?” he shoots back.

“I got it! You both confess.” Race and Albert turn disbelieving eyes to Jojo, who sent them his wide grin. “Turn it into a bet if it’s easier. I know sometimes that can be easier for you two.”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re studying to be a psychiatrist and then you psychoanalyze me and I remember,” Race sighs, feigning annoyance. He nods, though, and turns to Albert, who nods as well.

Jojo’s grin somehow magnifies.

“Oh, wait,” Albert says, bringing his finger to his head as if he’s remembering something. He punches Race, who falls dramatically to the floor. “He said I could punch him when I told him what was wrong.”

-

After that, Elmer had decided to make casual kiss another facet in their friendship where before a pat on the back or a simple nod would suffice. Passing behind him on his way to the kitchen, he’d ask him if he’d like a cup of coffee; at Albert’s grunt, he’d kiss his head. A kiss on the cheek as a goodbye or a hello. A kiss on the forehead to say goodnight.

Albert was going insane. Each time he’d been tempted to move his head just so, each time he’d wish desperately that Elmer would miss.

“Elmer, we need to talk.”

Elmer pauses in front of the sink where he was washing dishes, and slowly turns to him. He looks nervous. He clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“It’s about you - kissing me.”

Elmer drops the dish rag in his hands. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were okay with it-”

Albert puts up his hands with a slight grin that he can tell is slightly defeated. “No, E, I’m not mad about the kisses. Actually - actually that’s the problem. I like it. A lot. Too much. because I - because I lo-”

He’s interrupted by Elmer’s lips on his. He pushes him away with not a small amount of restraint. “Asshole, I’m trying to tell you I love you.”

Elmer nods frantically. “And I love you, too - can I kiss you now?”

This time it’s Albert closing the distance between them. Kissing Elmer is better than anything he’d ever felt.

He’d only been waiting for two weeks, but this kiss felt like two years.

Two years of cuddling on the sofa together, two years of making dinner together, two years of “You wash, I’ll dry” - two years of domesticity.

It all led up to this moment in their small kitchen. Elmer’s hands are still wet from the dish water when they grab his neck.

It all led up to the way Elmer exhales sharply when Albert lifts him suddenly to sit on the counter, the way he pulls away, panting.

“I think you should know I’ve been waiting for you to pick me up for almost two years.”

Albert can’t help his self satisfied smirk, but Elmer happily kisses it away.

-

Davey opens the door when Albert knocks. Looking at their joined hands, he smiles. “Congratulations, you guys.”

Elmer smiles widely at Davey and thanks him. Albert looks over his shoulder at Race, who’s sending him a shit eating grin from where he’s sat in between Jojo and Finch. Albert rolls his eyes but nods towards Davey.

“Yes, yes, very sweet, but can we talk about the actual important elephant in the room?”

At everyone’s confused looks, he sighs loudly and points at himself. “Ya boy got spectacularly laid last night!”

Everyone groans, none louder than Davey. “Race, please, I know they’re our friends but-”

“Sorry, darlin’.” He’s not sorry.

Tag list:

@auspicioustarantula | @mylesmisaddiction | @theproblemwitheyes | @pursuit-of-fandom-s | @fandomgueen42 | @cassandra-clare-anti | @grumpymurderner | @maxismediocre | @jd-sammy | @dying-poet | @pizzas-will-rule-the-world | @wafflesareh0t | @snakesarenonexistent | @kind-glittering-eyes | @the-whirligig-that-is-time | @captainelkequinn | @tumblesthroughtimeandspace | @i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was | @ho-ne-y | @courfey-duck | @arevolutionapproaches​ | @peach-m-00-n | @luckyteenagedirtbag | @tommy-boyyy | @poor-andrey | @backgroundnewsies | @bxnesof92

[jeremyjordan-am-i-right]

mutuals as lyrics?

Thank you so much for the ask! 

Ok, so, because I've done so many of these and I’m low-key convinced everyone’s annoyed by them I’m gonna put everything under the cut 

Also “lyrics” was way too broad and that was overwhelming so I made it whole songs, and the theme is musicals! 

@i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was “Agony” - Jeremy Jordan, Laura Osnes, and Corey Cott

@backgroundnewsies “Seize the Day” - Newsies 

@fameworks-quicker “The Wizard and I” - Wicked 

@jackkellys “Santa Fe” - Newsies 

@tofangirlonly “The Schmuel Song” - The Last Five Years 

@snakesarenonexistent “Magic to Do” - Pippin 

@newsiessellpapes-notheadlines “La Vie Boheme” - RENT 

@santasfe “Raise a Little Hell” - Bonnie and Clyde

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Losing My Mind Part Nine: Mush

all previous chapters are tagged under “losing my mind”

pairings: crack (jackcrutchie for all you nonbelievers), ralbert, spromeo, blush, newsbians, davey/happiness

friendships: crutchie and albert, specs and albert and crutchie, albert and les, specs and crutchie, mush and henry, race and crutchie

warnings: all previous warnings, racism, violence, blood, self-hatred, burns, abuse, swearing, homophobia, panic attacks, a bunch of other horrible shit, uh albert low-key hates himself, ableism, lots of characters have depression, and quite a few have anxiety

editing: nope

pov: mush

alright so i normally dont have specific faceclaims for most of the newsies but this is definitely Ephraim Sykes’s portrayal of mush

One thing that anyone will say about me: I’m not great at coping.

With anything.

Ever.

Memories from the Refuge? Shove them away in a deep dark corner of my mind.

Bruises popping up on my arms? Shirt sleeves.

Hating my entire existence? Laugh it off.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to ignore problems when they’re staring you right in the face. And you want nothing more than to punch that face in.

Another thing that anyone will tell you is that I’m not too great managing my anger.

Which isn’t good.

Because when I think, “Hey, I’d like to punch that asshole in the face!” I actually punch that asshole in the face.

But it’s for good reason!

I have to be tough, it’s the only way to survive.

I deal with a lot of shit in the Refuge, and that’s to be expected, especially considering how much shit I get outside of the Refuge, but it still sucks. Snyder ignores me for the most part, but the guards don’t. Even if all I do is sit and be quiet, some guard or another will always find an excuse to soak me.

That excuse being the color of my skin.

“Mush! C’mon!”

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Blink, and I realize that everyone is leaving the room.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Breakfast, if ya can call it that. C’mon, y’know what’ll happen if we’re late.”

Oh, so we’re getting breakfast today. That means we’re also cleaning today.

You see, Snyder believes we only need to be fed on days we’re cleaning the building for him, because why would we need energy for sitting in bunk rooms all day?

“How’d ya sleep?” I ask Blink absentmindedly.

“Alright. I stayed up kinda late talkin’ ta Davey, but I did manage ta get a few hours in. How ‘bout you?”

I slept badly, my thoughts riddled with flashbacks and nightmares, but I’m not about to worry Blink by saying that.

“Not bad.”

Blink probably knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t say anything.

We eventually reach the dining room, a giant room willed with benches and tables, all filled with kids. The room is packed as always, with barely enough room to walk between the benches, but we manage to find our seats and sit down in front of our cold oatmeal without bumping into too many people.

“Hey, watch it!” A snide voice shouts, interrupting the silence.

I whip around at the sound and see standing behind me both Henry and a tall, muscular boy.

“S-sorry.” Henry stammers.

“Sorry don’t cut it!” The boy says, and pushes Henry. “Gimme ya breakfast and I might go easy on ya, ya-”

I’m on my feet and between the two before the boy can even finish the sentence.

“Get the fuck away from my brother!” I yell at the boy, clenching my fists. “You’re the one that wasn’t lookin’ where you was goin’, an’ you’re the one that pushed him! So I would suggest-”

“What, might I ask, gave you the need to yell, vermin?”

I turn around again to see a guard standing behind me, his lips curled into a sneer.

I also see that Henry is sitting down, hurriedly eating his oatmeal.

I smile, and look at the guard directly in his ugly face.

“That asshole,” I point to the boy who is now seated at his bench, snickering at me, “Pushed my friend and was rude ta ‘im. Considerin’ how much havin’ good manners is valued here, I thought I should let that asshole know that he wasn’t bein’ very polite.”

The punches are fine.

The punches are almost always fine.

I can handle pain, it’s just something that comes with life.

I can handle a strike to the jaw.

I can take a blow to the face.

It’s the words that hurt.

I should be able to deal with slurs and insults by now, I have to hear them every day, but for some reason it’s always worse in the Refuge.

I’ve talked to Crutchie and Albert about it, they understand.

They have to deal with it too.

But it’s different for me in a way that Crutchie and Albert can never understand.

But now is not the time for thinking about the deep corruption of life and society, because I’m on the ground and punches have changed to kicks.

The guard stops eventually, and I’m confused but grateful.

Usually I get dragged to some other room to be soaked for a while more, but I guess I’ll have to clean today after all.

“Mush.” A soft hand lands on my shoulder, and I take the other hand that is offered to me.

“Guess he wasn’t too pleased with me.” I mumble sheepishly, managing a shit eating grin.

Specs rolls his eyes as he helps me to my feet, and I nod at him in thanks.

The rest of the day is a normal shitty day in the Refuge, and by the time we’re back in our original bunk room, the sky is dark outside of the bars.

I sit down on a bottom bunk, the one I woke up in on the first day, and examine my hands.

After a full day of scrubbing the stairs clean, my palms are red and irritated from where the chemicals in the bleach sunk into my already stinging blisters.

“This sucks.” I mumble, clenching my fists, ignoring the pain that courses through my hands and up my arms.

I want to punch the wall.

I’m full with anger, I feel like I might explode from all of it building up.

I look around at the room, and the sight only adds to my anger.

This isn’t a place for kids. This isn’t how kids should be treated.

i hope y’all are still enjoying! next chapter is katherine!

if you wanna be on my tag list, let me know!

TAG LIST

@broadwaybooksandbagels @somekindaspacecadet @tea-and-theater @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @auspicioustarantula @dancingpenss @suddenly-im-respectable @have-we-got-news-for-you @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @funnyihope @snakesarenonexistent @pansalexual @sunshine-e-cigarettes

[signals-over-the-air]

Closed Doors

a short piece by @technically-whizzy

*****

the door was closed many years ago; slammed shut as a best friend— a brother, even— slipped out of my life forever. he suddenly acted like I didn’t even exist, like he was better than me.

to this day, I have no idea how he remembers it. that doesn’t matter anymore. here’s what I remember:

my cheeks and jaw sore from laughing harder and smiling for longer than I ever thought possible. lazy summer days spent lounging on the roof outside his bedroom window, planning our futures, as if we had any idea of what was to come. endless hours playing in universes of our own invention in the woods behind my house. a sense of safe camraderie; one I thought I’d never feel again.

he started to open the door again, at the beginning of the end. poked his head in, extended a branch.

you know what I did?

I thanked him politely, accepted the branch, then slammed the door in his face.

he tore my heart to shreds once, and there’s no way in hell I’ll let it happen again.

*****

@papesdontsellthemselves

@softgrantaire

@spot-me50-papes

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@awkwardstranger98

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@grantaire-the-disaster-gay

@broadwaythots

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@blush-meyers

@we-dont-sell-papes

@toger-raylor

@pineappapizza

@jd-sammy

@kpop-kk

@marvels-ninja

@starrysence

@auspicioustarantula

@snakesarenonexistent

@bxnesof92

@thevirgilantone

@ripped-rhino

@thewoildisyaerster

@buttons-in-the-refuge

@albertdoesnteatglass

@orangeaxolotl

@backgroundnewsies

@nblievablenerd

@fandom-pancake

[santasfes]

we! do Not hate you that would be very difficult if not impossible

I’d argue but I’m too busy dying from your kindness to be able to, you’re just too darn sweet! Ahhh my heart!

[jackkellys]

Sweater, blanket, bubble bath, boots?

sweater: what’s your favorite article of clothing?

comfort wise, definitely hoodies. but when i’m out doing stuff it’s my military jackets 👌🏼

blanket: what do you do to relax?

i listen to music, sing along and just do art

bubble bath: what’s your favorite scent?

the smell of rain on stormy days. i love the rain

boots: are you an outdoorsy person?

i don’t have the resources at the moment to go anywhere interesting really, but i do love the outdoors!! i go on three walks a day with my dog and i live near a trail so we have some fun. i’d love to go on real hikes in the future!!

[in-a-most-auspicious-manner]

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I'm thankful for:

Newsies

Dear Evan Hansen

Musicals, oh the musicals

Musical actors including, but not limited to: Corey Cott, Nick Masson, Mike Faist, Ben Fankhauser, AKB, Ben Cook, Joshua Burrage, Ben Platt, Lin Manuel Miranda, Nico Dejesus, Kara Lindsay, Sky Flaherty, Jeremy Jordan, etc.

YOU!

People I'm thankful for:

@maxvanna

@crazymecjc

@new-york-aint-got-tarantulas

@backgroundnewsies

@neverplannedonnewsies

@rustic-space-fiddle

@snakesarenonexistent

@buttonsdavenport

@newsiesgarbage

@davey-in-a-minivan

@graceful-popcorn

@official-spidey

@brooklyn-noozies

And more but I don't remember :( lol ♡ youuuu all...

I love and appreciate you guys, have an awesome thanksgiving and happy holidays!!!♡

[theragamuffininitiative]

You have my good wishes :)

Thanks mate. :)

[turtle-steverogers]

I can’t write for shit but I know you are really talented ,so what about an angst about Spot going to war and he doesn’t make it back and Race and their 1 year old son go to visit his grave and talk to him? Idk you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but I thought it was a really cool idea

hi! so this is a pretty on brand prompt (especially for a certain upcoming Thing, but...,,.,) but anyway yeah here’s a fic. hope i did your idea some justice!

warnings: lots of talk of death, but nothing graphic.  my shitty, caffeine muddled writing (truly, not my best work, sorry)

ship: sprace

word count: 1529

editing: nein

Just Out of Reach

“Aye, Sergeant, need some water up there?”

“Yeah, thanks man.”

A water bottle is passed up to Spot, and he takes it, taking one hand off the M2 machine gun that’s deadbolted down in front of him and using his teeth to unscrew the cap.  He hadn’t realized how goddamn thirsty he’d been, but it’s fairly easy and not at all uncommon to lose touch with yourself during the methodical cycle of a mission.  

Really, it’s just reconnaissance.  Mapping out the desolate land that surrounds base- cataloguing the unknowns and the possible threats.  It’s the simple stuff.  The required bits that make the more strategic missions possible.  But they still take long as hell and Spot’s willing to bet that he’s sweat through his fatigues by now as he bakes in the desert sun.  His helmet is scratchy and the army-issued goggles are digging into his skull, squeezing his brain and making his head throb.  The water helps a bit.

His vehicle is at the front of the convoy, and somehow, he found himself perched in the turret, calculating gaze scanning around for anything amiss.  They near an Iraqi village, vacated looking buildings lining either side of the sandy, dirt road.

Spot thinks he sees a few windows shutter closed and when he looks to his left, there’s a little girl (she can’t be more than five.  Christ)  sitting on her stoop, knees pulled up to her chest.  She’s staring at the convoy, eyes wide and fearful and fingers plugged into her ears.  Spot feels a pang of...of something.  Guilt, maybe.  Sympathy.

Really, none of these people asked for this.  They never wanted big, scary men in big, scary vehicles shouting out foreign remarks and invading their space- their homes.  

Spot forces his gaze back to the front, willing himself to focus back on the task at hand.  But he can’t help his mind wandering back to that little girl.  There was something about her.  The innocence, maybe.  The simplistic look of discernable fear in the face of something scary.

He thinks of Teddy.

His son’s own wide, brown eyes and chubby, five year old cheeks.  Really, they’re not so different- that girl and Teddy.  They’re lives are so drastically diverse from one another, but they share that same, innate naivete.  The all prevailing look of curiosity that only kids can convey.

Spot misses Teddy.

Granted, he always misses him and Race.  The feeling isn’t mutually exclusive to any one moment, but sometimes the ache will grow into more of a pain, gripping his chest with longing to kiss his husband and hug his son.  Maybe dig his fingers into Teddy’s sides as he picks him up and swings him, planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.  It’s a foolproof way to make him laugh.  And if Race is there, he’ll laugh too.  There are some things in life he can count on to be constant, and his family is one of them.

He comes back to himself as he nears a stoplight and suddenly, something in the world seems wrong.  He’s just about to secure himself around the gun when there’s a shout from down below and then the humvee is jerkily rolling to a stop and that’s when Spot sees the wire and that can only mean someone’s going to die if they don’t fucking stop right fucking now and--

Nothing.

-

“Papa, can we go see Daddy today?”

Race freezes halfway through screwing the cap off a carton of milk.  He turns to look at his son and finds him staring at him in all his six and a half year old glory.  His hair is a mess of bedhead and sleep and even though Race had gotten him up and dressed in a decent amount of time for a Saturday, he still looks rumpled.  But that’s just how kids are, Race guesses.

It had been a year since Race’s life took a tumble into the realm of his worst nightmare.  A year since Lieutenant Kelly and Sergeant Jacobs had shown up on his doorstep, clad in Army Service Uniforms and wearing twin, somber looks. 

It hadn’t taken long for Race to piece together why they were there.

That day was still hazy, a jumbled mix of numb shock and things like, “we regret to inform you” and “killed in action” and then there was Teddy pulling at his pant leg and asking him with those wide goddamn eyes why “guys dressed like Daddy” were there and Race didn’t know how to tell him that Daddy’s gone, because how the hell do you explain that to a five year old and he wasn’t equipped to deal with something like this and he still isn’t and-

Yeah.  A nightmare.

Race still isn’t sure if Teddy knows exactly what happened.  He seems to understand that Spot is gone and that fundamentally, he isn’t coming back, but he doesn’t think Teddy understands death yet.  The finality of it- the weight behind the concept.  

It was inexplicably haunting to see Teddy not crying at Spot’s funeral.  Race was crying.  Hell, Race was a mess.  It was so bad that Albert had to take over his eulogy and Jojo had to watch Teddy for a few minutes while he lost his shit in the bathroom.

But Teddy hadn’t cried.  He’d just clung to Race with a tight grip and wide, bewildered eyes, not saying a word.  

“Sure, bud,” Race says, shaking himself and pouring the milk into Teddy’s bowl of Lucky Charms, “we can go see Daddy.”

He takes Teddy along to Spot’s grave fairly often, but he never really knows how much of it he processes.  Like at the funeral, he’s always quiet and subdued when they go, never really saying anything.  Just sitting in Race’s lap, head bent into the crook of his neck as he stares at the headstone.  

“Yay!” Teddy bounces a little in his seat, grinning as Race sets his breakfast in front of him, “I want to tell him about my dance recital!”

Something in Race’s chest cracks open, making him feel simultaneously warm and cold and entirely overwhelmed. 

On their way to the cemetery later, they pass a man selling custom bouquets on the street.  Brilliant mixes of orchids and roses, gardenias and anemones, bleeding color into the cold grey of winter, and when Teddy sees them and turns that pleading look on Race, well, who is he to say no?

-

“Hi, Daddy!”

For once, Race stays a little off to the side, watching his son sit cross legged in front of Spot’s grave.  He’s talking, words spilling out at about a mile a minute, but Race tunes them out.  This is their private moment and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that.  

“I kinda wish you coulda seen it, but…” Teddy shrugs, mouth grimacing in a way that’s so strikingly Spot that Race has to close his eyes for a moment, “That’s okay.  I know you woulda come if you coulda.”

And, well, ouch.

“Anyway, I brought my scarf for you, Daddy,” Race opens his eyes to see Teddy carefully wrapping his little Thomas the Tank Engine scarf around the headstone, just over where he’d placed the flowers they picked up earlier, “‘Cause it’s getting cold and Papa always tells me that scarves help make you super warm.”

Race has to bite his lip to keep from crying or doing something stupid to ruin his son’s moment and, like, breakdown in front of him.

“Anyway, I’ll let you talk to Papa now, ‘cause I know he always likes to talk to you a little,” He smacks a kiss onto his palm and presses it to Spot’s engraved name, “Bye bye, Daddy, I love you.”

When he turns to look at Race, he’s smiling.  It’s big and unyielding and Race fucking melts, because this is all he really wants.  Sure, when Teddy gets older, Spot’s absence will ring loud and daunting, but hell, if he can have any ounce of peace with it then, well, Race...Race is fucking ecstatic.  He can handle this. 

“Your turn, Papa!” Teddy says, beckoning Race to sit down and climbing into his lap when he does.

“Thanks, little man,” Race hugs Teddy close, “Did you have a good time talking to Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” Teddy says, squirming a little in Race’s tight hold, “I know he was listening super good, I could feel it.”

Race swallows, “Oh yeah?” Teddy nods, “I’m super glad, Teds.”

And maybe, really, that’s what this is about.  Spot’s death was a curveball thrown with the wrong hand, jarring a perceived reality and shifting everything Race had known a little too far to the left.  And no, it isn’t okay.  Maybe it’ll never be okay, but it doesn’t have to be.  Spot’s still there, lingering somewhere in their hearts and made real by his memory- their memories of him.  He’s still palpable, still reachable, and if Teddy can feel it, maybe Race can too.

Race takes a breath, fortifying and fond, then smiles.  It doesn’t feel so strained and Race feels just that much lighter when he clears his throat.

“Hey, Spottie…”

-

it wasn’t very good don’t clown me please my brain said ‘sorry bud’ today

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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