#that being said they played perfect and I bawled my eyes out

[glendover]

when I was 14 I promised myself to stay alive until I’ve seen simple plan live. I’m 22 and yesterday I finally saw them. Truth is, I kinda wanna live, for a long long time now, bc life didn’t end at 14 or 16 or even at 18. In fact, it had just begun.

[orchidniins]

Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self. 

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?” 

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.” 

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat. 

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other. 

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..?  Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert  Y/N: You’re impossible  George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10  George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What?  George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser. 

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye. 

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris. 

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[pearlzier]

did not know i needed tattoo artist matt until now r u kidding …

I FEAR TATTOO ARTIST MATT HAS A CLUTCH ON ME. LIKE im using this as an excuse to talk about him but here we are

the vibe is literally immaculate i fear..... he's got good good music playing from his speaker, some dominic fike maybe, but also literally anything he played on live, it's warm and comfortable in the room. he's so chill, like, he works on your terms n whatever you're comfortable with. he's just so ???? i dont even know the word GOODBYE

he's all soft words and encouragements as you get the tattoo done, he makes sure it doesn't hurt anymore than it needs to and checks in on you all the time. "you're doin' great," he'd tell you, "just a little bit more. you can take it for me, right?" HELLLL YEAH 🙏 whatever he says fr even as i am bawling my eyes out i mean.

when you come back for another tattoo, he's so damn happy to see you. when he gets to work on this one, he murmurs, "think you should just keep comin' to me for these, yeah? i'll do 'em how you like, sweetheart." literally everyone else in the parlor is qualified enough and'll do a good job too but the thought of being the only person to have given you the ink on your skin gets him going 💔 "did perfect, like always " he'd tell you after.

he eventually gets to small talk whilst doing your ink, little questions and stuff just to get to know you. by this point, you've got his number and he messages you whenever he's not going to be in in case on the off chance you wanted to get something done on that day. he'd meant it when he said you should just keep coming to him for tattoos AAAGH THE BRAIN WORMS TATTOOARTIST!MATT SAVE ME IM SORRY.

[hearts-hunger]

i'll be seeing you || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: When you're sad, Sam knows just how to comfort you. || Standalone in the Sunshine Daydream universe

Pairings: Sam x Reader | Genre: fluff, h/c | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: none, unless you count being sad about space

A/N: Truly I don't know where this even came from but as soon as I thought of it I knew it was perfect for space buff Sammy and his Birdie baby. I hope you like it! ♡

Swiping your wet face with your sleeve, you blinked and tried to see the television screen through the blur of tears. Your throat was tight, a hot, choked feeling of rising emotion flooding you the longer you watched; when you finally couldn't keep back a sob, it felt almost satisfying to let the wave crash over you. 

The spunky, sweet little face of Laika the space dog filled the screen, bringing another crumpled sob out of you as the narrator spoke somberly of her one-way trip into space. You didn't know why you'd picked the documentary to watch while you sat on the living room floor and folded laundry; you knew it would only made you sad, and here you were, crying your eyes out as you stacked Sam’s folded shirts in a neat pile.

Maybe you'd needed a good cry. There was something relieving in expressing this grief for the little Soviet pup who’d trusted the hands that finally took her off the street only to send her some place they knew she wouldn't come back from. You thought of your own puppy, your sweet Rosie, and felt another wave of sadness at the thought of her all alone, waiting for someone to fetch her back home. 

When the documentary ended and the credits rolled with another picture of Laika, the caption bearing a memorial to her and all the other animals that had furthered space exploration, you cried like a baby.

“Oh, man,” you said, burying your face in a warm dish towel fresh from the dryer. You laughed a little at your own headlong rush into a bona-fide crying jag. “This was so stupid.”

You went to put on the next recommended documentary, one about the Mars rover Opportunity that you knew would make you cry just as hard, for some reason wanting to keep the weird high of catharsis going for a little longer. You put on another load of laundry while it played, listening to the story of the little rover’s explorations and discoveries, sniffling over your dryer sheets and laundry detergent.

The front door opened just as the movie was telling you that the scientists at NASA played Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” for Oppy in their final transmission. You were in the middle of bawling your eyes out but quickly turned the TV off and dried your face, a little bashful to have Sam find you in such a state by your own doing; you couldn't hide your blotchy face and red eyes, but you tried your best to look presentable and mentally stable as your boyfriend and your puppy came in.

Rosie came in first, padding right into the living room to greet you with her wagging tail and lolling tongue. Her fur was a little damp; it looked like the end of her walk had been a rainy one, but you knew she’d enjoyed it. You didn't even mind her wet paws tramping over your unfolded laundry, scuffing your hands over her fur and kissing her soft head.

“Oh, Rosie,” you said miserably. “I’ll never send you into space. Never. I promise.”

She gave a soft bark as if to agree with you. You buried your face in her fur and felt more tears track down your face, comforted by her warmth and happiness to see you.

You took a deep breath and held Rose's face for a moment. “I look like a mess for your daddy, don't I?”

She licked your face, and you gave a watery laugh. 

“Okay, okay,” you said. “You’re right. Let me go wash my face.”

You went to splash cold water on your face, wincing a little at your disheveled, emotional appearance in the mirror, but there was nothing to be done for it. You went to put on a kettle, thinking Sam might like something warm to drink after his chilly, rainy walk.

“Hi, birdie baby.”

You smiled as Sam came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You turned your face for a kiss, and he happily obliged.

“How was your walk?” you asked.

“Wet.” He kissed your cheek and drew back to brush his rain-damp curls from his face. “Rosie got into some puddles, so she has a good time. How are you? Feeling any better?”

You'd declined to go on the walk with them, needing some time alone after work to decompress. Before you could tell him you were feeling nice and rested now, though, he saw your face for the first time since he'd come home.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, bewildered and worried. He shifted into panic mode, hovering like a mother hen. “What’s wrong, birdie? What happened?”

You were a little embarrassed to tell him, but you couldn't let him worry. 

“Nothing happened,” you said gently. “Nothing’s wrong.”

The kettle whistled, and you moved to take it off the heat. He only watched you as you started to make two cups of tea.

“Why’re you crying, then?” he asked.

You gave a rueful, wobbly smile. “It’s silly, really.”

He came close, then. “It’s not silly if it made you upset, birdie.” He accepted the mug you gave him. “Thank you. Please tell me why you're crying, sweetheart. Let me help.”

You sighed. “I watched a movie,” you said. “Two movies, actually.” Just the thought of Laika and Oppy was enough to make you feel al l twisted up inside again, and you blinked tears away. “It was stupid. I shouldn't have watched them.”

Sam huffed a bemused and mildly concerned laugh, seeming relieved it wasn't anything serious but still sensitive to your obvious emotional distress.

“What kind of movies, honey?”

You buried your face in your hands. “One about Laika, you know, the space dog? And one about Oppy the Mars rover.”

“Aw, birdie.” He pulled you in for a hug. “Made you said, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said pitifully, your head thumping against his chest. “It’s awful, Sam. Both of them being sent up there all alone. Those poor babies.”

He chuckled, and the sound was warm and rumbly in his chest. 

“I know it's sad,” he said. “That’s why I would never in a million years watch a movie about either of them. I'd have to check myself into a mental institution, I’d be so torn up about it.”

You took a deep breath and ran your hands over your face, your skin hot and your eyes stinging.

“Yeah. You might have to check me in now that I've watched them.”

Sam breathed a sympathetic laugh, brushing your hair from your face. 

“Silly girl,” he said. “If I'd known you were gonna watch sad documentaries while I'm gone, I would have made you come on our walk with us.”

You smiled. He knew you liked to go with him and Rosie for their evening walks around your quiet neighborhood, but you'd been tired and emotionally off-kilter after work today and had needed some time alone. He hadn't complained, had merely given you a kiss before he left, but now he'd come home to find you in tears over something as silly as a space documentary.

“Did it help, at least?” he asked kindly. “Sometimes it's nice to get out a good cry.”

You nodded and leaned into his touch. “It’s weird. But yeah, it helped. I’m glad you're home, though.”

He smiled. “Me too, birdie.” He gave you a smooch on your forehead before he pulled back from you. “I’m gonna get dinner started. Put on something cheerful if you're gonna watch anything else.”

“There was another one that sounded interesting,” you said, leaning against the counter to sip your tea. “It’s called Challenger: The Final Flight.”

“Oh, super,” he said dryly. “The one where the shuttle blows up before it even gets out of the atmosphere. That’ll be uplifting as hell.”

“No, is that really what happened?” you asked. Sam was nothing if not a space history buff, so you had no reason to doubt him, but you almost wanted to watch it.

“You can't watch that one right now, birdie,” he told you. “Not unless you really want to spend the whole rest of the night crying.”

You hummed. “Maybe I do.”

He laughed. “Well, I don't think I do. So let's save that for another night.”

You stayed in the kitchen while he worked, enjoying his company; Rosie padded in and settled under the table with a squeaky toy, chewing on the matted shape that had been so well-loved that you couldn't determine what kind of toy it had been originally.

You cradled your mug and breathed in the fragrant steam, watching Sam move about your kitchen in the familiar, domestic rhythm that always brought you comfort. He set soup to cooking, insisting that you needed something warm and hydrating after all that crying, and worked on it on as the rain pattered gently on the window.

“Bad day at work, birdie?” he asked, chopping up vegetables to go in the dutch oven of simmering broth.

You sighed. “Sort of. Exhausting is the best word for it, I guess. I was just really tired all day.”

He put his hand to your forehead, feeling for fever, and you breathed in the earthy, fresh scent the veggies had given him.

“You’re a little warm, honey,” he said. 

You sighed. A fever would explain the hair-trigger emotions you'd battled all day, as well as the fatigue that you couldn't quiet shake. Sam got you some medicine and coaxed you to take it with your tea.

“Why don't you call out for tomorrow?” he suggested. “I’ll stay home too, and we can cuddle in bed all day.”

That did seem awfully nice. It was supposed to rain all night and all day tomorrow, and spending the chilly, rainy day in bed with Sam sounded a lot better than going to work.

“Okay,” you agreed. You texted your boss and set your phone aside, ignoring the messages and emails with the assurance that they'd still be vying for your attention when you were feeling better.

“How was your day?” you asked.

He tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the dutch oven and leaned against the counter.

“Good,” he said simply. “We got a lot done. Danny had to leave early to do something with Sunny, so we just decided to call it quits when he left. Can't do much without the heartbeat of the band, now can we?”

You smiled. You liked how all the guys valued the others’ unique talents and input into the music, and nobody knew better than them how much each of them contributed to the magic of the band. You remembered that Sam had been working on a new song, and you wanted to know what the boys had thought of it.

“How’d they like your new song?” you asked.

He grinned. “Smash hit, birdie. They loved it. Jake came up with some really cool licks for it, and of course Josh fixed up the parts of the lyrics I wasn't so sure about.”

“Aw, honey, I'm glad. I knew they'd like it.”

You set your mug on the counter and crossed to him, and he knew without you having to say anything that you wanted a hug. He held you close and squeezed you tight, giving a contented little groan as he did.

“I missed you today,” he said. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” He kissed your nose. “And I'm sorry you made yourself sad watching movies you knew better than to watch.”

You gave a soft laugh. “They were pretty good, actually. Even if they were sad.”

He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you gently.

“I love you, birdie,” he said, tender and amused. 

“Even when I make questionable viewing choices?” you teased.

He smiled. “Yep. Even then.”

You lingered in the kitchen with him while dinner cooked, and you sat catty corner to him at the table while you ate, Rose safely between the two of you, dozing at your feet. When you'd tidied up after dinner, you joined him out on the porch to watch the rain while he smoked a cigarette, sipping your next cup of tea that you knew would be a staple of the homespun, gently effective doctoring Sam was planning to give you.

“You want to know something?” he asked.

You snuggled close to him. “Yeah. Tell me.”

He looked up at the hazy sky, his features gentle and tired and thoughtful.

“The first time I learned about Laika,” he said, “I came up with a better ending for her story.”

Your heart tilted. “What was it?”

He let out a slow breath. 

“I imagined she got out somehow,” he said softly. “That the man in the moon got her out of that death trap of a spaceship and took her with him. I laid awake in bed all night, looking at the moon through my window, thinking about her running around in the stars, chasing comets, playing with the bears of the Ursa constellations.”

He looked over at you, and for a moment, you saw a much younger Sam and felt the grief and love he’d felt for that little space pup.

He smiled. “I think she's happy, birdie,” he said. “I think she’s okay, somewhere out there.”

You felt the sting of tears again, and he chuckled softly as he cupped your cheek and brushed away the few that fell.

“Aw, honey, I didn't mean to make you cry again,” he said, soft and affectionate.

You gave him a watery smile. “I’m glad you told me that, Sam. It makes it better.” You thought his imagination was a very wonderful and tender place, making up songs and stories and pictures of playful starlight puppies and their kindly moonbeam companions.

“Can Oppy be with them too?” you asked. You wanted her to have a happy ending like the one Sam had imagined for Laika.

He smiled and gave you a gentle kiss. “Sure she can, birdie. They're both running around up there together.”

You wrapped your arms around him and rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the rain fell. Loving Sam was so easy, as natural as breathing, and moments like these had always shown you that love was supposed to be gentle. Before Sam, you hadn't been sure what love was supposed to feel like; with him, you knew in every part of you that love was safe and tender, that it was made of shared sadness and joy, music and laughter and tears and stories that washed over your life as effortlessly as the tide, as steadily as the rain, as gently as the light of the moon.

“What was the song they played for Oppy when she powered off?” he asked. “I feel like I remember them playing a song for her.”

You snuggled closer. “‘I’ll Be Seeing You,’,” you said. “Bille Holiday.”

He rested his head on yours and hummed a little of Oppy's lullaby.

“I’ll find you in the morning sun,” he sang, his voice soft and beautiful and very gentle. “And when the night is new, I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.”

You hugged him tight.

“I love you, Sam,” you said softly. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Sweet birdie,” he said gently. “You're welcome. I love you too.”

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[starlightsuffered]

Bad Father

Info - unplanned pregnancy, abandonment, argument, angst, mention of abortion, curvy reader, light

“Timothée, can you come here please?” I asked softly. I was scared. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy. I felt awful, in fact, that I was happy. I was joyous even. I thought I’d be able to give this dream up, but I guessed I was wrong.

“Hey baby,” he said and pulled me in for a long kiss. His hands drifted down to my love handles which had become more supple lately.

He moaned into my lips as he massaged my skin. I knew that he liked my curves already, I wondered if he’d be even more addicted to my body now? Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

“Fuck baby, you wanna maybe go upstairs?” He asked breathily. His hands were on my ass now. He was squeezing. It was almost absentmindedly as if he could resist me.

“And do what?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Oh I think you know baby girl,” he chuckled.

“I need to talk to you first,” I said steadily.

“Oh,” he said, noting the serious tone of voice I used. He straightened his posture, though the bulge in his pants was obvious.

“I need you to sit down.”

He did what I asked. His brow was furrowed and he held my hands.

“I’m started to get scared,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

“Well, you likely should be,” I trailed off. His eyes grew large and soft.

“Y/n?” He asked.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted. I gulped at his expression. He’d completely paled. He looked as if I’d told him I was terminally ill. Silence yawned before us as his expression looked more and more horrified.

“T-Timmy?” I asked.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he hissed. I lurched back like he’d slapped me.

“You promised me we wouldn’t- no, this is okay. Abortions are available,” he soothed himself.

“I-I don’t want to have an abortion,” I said slowly.

“You-You-“ he broke off and frustrated tears fell from his eyes.

“Timothée,” I said weakly. “C-can’t you be happy? We’re married and we’re having a baby. You’re going to be a dad.”

He flinched. He backed off slowly. He was walking backwards and then he turned and tan completely. I didn’t even have time to call out before he grabbed the keys and bolted out the door.

I felt tears fill my eyes. I sat on the couch and just bawled. I wanted my Timmy to hold me, but, he wasn’t here. He stayed away for days.

I went through different emotions in a cycle over and over. I’d get wildly angry. In these moments I’d text him and tell him he was being ridiculous. I would message people and announce my pregnancy so he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. I would smash things. Then, I would get sad. I would sob for hours and hours. I would look at our wedding vows and old pictures. It was true he’d said he would like to be child free and I’d begrudgingly went along, but I hadn’t known a child would mean he just ran away. We hadn’t even discussed anything.

Then there was the numbness. I would just sit and stare at the wall. I would be stuck in my imagination. I would think of the impossible, of him coming back and everything being perfect. Then, I would think of the worst case scenario.I would imagine raising my baby all alone. I pictured him not wanting anything to do with his child. I knew I’d be completely left and lonely and longing.

It was the fifth day he’d been radio silent and away from the house. I’d gone to my first doctors appointment alone. I had felt so desperately stupid and alone in that moment. I needed to change my doctor because he had made me feel like shit.

“Hi,” said my husband tentatively as he entered the living room. I ignored him, like how he had ignored me.

“Baby, y/n,” he said desperately. He got onto his knees in front of me. He was biting his bottom lip. He hadn’t shaved and he had some scruff. His hair was messy. He looked gorgeous as always, but tired and like he’d been through a lot.

I resented him in that moment. I should be the one who looked haggard. I had told my husband I was pregnant and he’d run out and abandoned me.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can not believe I was such an ass. You didn’t deserve any of that,” he whispered and tried to take my hand. I snatched my hands away.

“Mon amour,” he said with a shakily voice. I knew he was crying. I had to pretend not to care.

“You don’t have to say anything, but can you just listen to me? I have something to say and I want you to know it. Can you do that? Can you just listen?” He asked.

I nodded once, but I didn’t meet his gaze. I paused the tv show I was watching. I kept my eyes on the wall.

“While I was away I stayed at a hotel. I didn’t cheat, if you were ever worried about that. I went to a couple therapy sessions. I didn’t know why I was so upset. I thought at first I felt like you’d betrayed me but that isn’t it. I realised I didn’t feel any anger or resentment towards you. Through therapy, I realised I had secretly really wanted to give you what you wanted. I wanted to give you a baby.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I snapped. He let out a small sigh. He must’ve been relieved I was at least talking.

“I know. Y/n, oh baby, I was scared. I was so scared,” he whispered. “I-I realised I don’t believe I’ll be a good father. I think I’ll ruin a child.”

“What?” I asked, finally turning to him.

“I think I’m going to be awful,” he sniffled. It turned into a full blown melt down. He was weeping openly. He never had been ashamed of crying, but he looked it now. He was doing the type of crying where you couldn’t catch your breath.

I held him then. He was shaking. His shoulders shuddered. He was still sniffling as he calmed down.

“My love,” I said as a whisper in his ear. “I have all the confidence that you will be an amazing father. You have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You are gentle, smart, funny, protective, vulnerable, and patient.”

“You mean that?”

“I do. I mean every word,” I promised him.

A watery smile covered his face. He grabbed me to him. He kissed down my cheeks, then to my neck, and down my neck and to my stomach.

“Hello little baby,” he whispered. “I’m going to try my best for you. I hope you have the patience of your mother.”

It turned out I was right. When little Adonis was born he was a complete daddy’s boy. He even looked like his father which I loved. People were constantly telling Timothée what a good dad he was. I would always rub the small of his back when they said this. He always tended to get teary eyed.

“Good night baby boy,” Timothée cooed as he helped me boy Adonis to bed. “I love you with my whole heart.”

“Dada,” Adonis said slowly.

“Oh my goodness!” Timothée said In complete shock. “That’s, that’s his first word! Holy fuck.”

“Dada!” Giggled Adonis as the bright smile on his father’s face.

“Yes, yes,” Timothée beamed as he swooped his baby into his arms. He cuddled him against his chest. Both of us were in tears.

“I told you, you’re amazing,” I said.

“Thank you.”

[stxrmylxve]

Comforting Times

Notes:

GN!reader

everyone is aged up

use of pet names (vague)

tramatic event with izana’s

mentions of blood in kazutora’s

lots of crying-

𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜 “𝓂𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓎” 𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” he asked as he opened his eyes to stare up at you from your lap where his head rested.

Your bottom lip trembled before replying with a quiet “nothing.”

Though the lip would go unnoticed by most, mikey has a keen sense of observation and he noticed it almost immediately. He didn’t say anything, words had never done anything for him in the past, he instead weaved his arms around your waist and sat there, face smushed against your stomach as you began to shed tears.

They were quiet, still full of pain, but quiet. You had been known to be a crybaby, but these weren’t the normal pained cries; they were comforted.

“Mikey, y-you don’t have to do this. I..I’m just a crybaby.” you choked out, but his hug only tightened around you, showing you that he cared no matter if you were a crybaby or not.

He sat there with you, you bawling while he just hummed your favorite song, allowing you time to let it all out. He knew what pain was, he was in it everyday almost, but his heart ached even more to hear your sobs as you babbled about the hardships.

if it had to do with someone, they were delt with

𝓇𝓎𝓊𝑔𝓊𝒿𝒾 “𝒹𝓇𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃” 𝓀𝑒𝓃

A blank expression camped your face as you watched a movie with draken. There was no emotion, dispite this being a movie that was your favorite to cry during. He knew something was wrong with you, but how did he ask about it?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “baby?”

“Hmmm?” you hummed back as you sniffed, a stray tear falling as you side-eye him.

“S’mthin’ up at all or am I delusional?” he asks.

“Uhm.. no. I’m fine!” you played it off, laughing at your own stupidity as more tears began to fall.

“Woah woah hey, you alright?” he asks as he brings you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he rubbed circles on your back.

“Come on, talk to me. Please?” he asks, not pushing the matter too much, but still wanting you to be free of your emotions and a little more open with your feelings as a whole with him.

“later.” you wail out as rivers flow from your eyes, silent sobs erupting from his chest as he leans down and leaves a peck on your forehead.

“alright then.” he says with a sad smile as he pauses the movie and rubs your back comfortingly.

𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔶𝔲

“Peke J, sweetie, I’m back!” he calls as he closes the door, slides off his shoes at the door, and walks towards the kitchen to set down the bags in his hand from the convenience store.

There he found you, leaned over the counter crying, a pool of salty tears below you with Peke J beside you laying against your shoulder.

“Sweetie what’s wrong?!” he yells as he quickly puts the bags on the opposite counter and rushes over to you. this poor boy

“M-My.. phone.. look at i-it” you babble out between sobs as he reads over the texts, baffled and angered at the things said.

“Hun, you know those aren’t true. You know I mean it when I say you’re perfect. Especially for me and Peke J, right?” he says with a laugh as he rubs the cat’s head, then pats yours with a smile.

“Come on, don’t let them get to your head. They don’t know you like I do. Plus I got (favorite food) when I saw it at the store, it would be a shame if it went to waste..” he says with a sly grin as you wipe your tears and begin to straighten yourself for the food he had gotten.

“It won’t go to waste!” you say, laughing with him as you both unbag all of the food.

𝔰𝔥𝔲𝔧𝔦 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

Shuji walks into the door, wiping some blood of another onto his dark suit to not worry you. It was early morning, around 12:35am, but you knew he had business and as long as he woke up next to you the next morning, that is all you could ask for.

He checked on the couch to see if you were there, then the kitchen, then the bed.

“(y/n)? Where are you?” he yells through the house, but it remained idle and eerily quiet.

“shit. did that stupid gang get to them? I’ll beat their asses until-”

You came up behind him, hugging him from behind as you both stood there quietly. The tears stained his expensive suit, but he didn’t care. He turned around and places his hand on your back, moving his right hand which read “sin” up to pet your hair as you both swayed back and forth.

“What happened love?” he asks softly, almost a whisper, when your sobs began to quiet down.

“O-on the way home.. a gang. Said they knew you. I-I didn’t know what to do but they chased me all the way home. Kisaki is in the other room c-‘cause he had to help me home after they hit me.” you babbled out as his grip tightened on you for a second, anger pooling in his stomach.

“Did you get a description on them? or anyone?” he asks with a smile as he continues to pet your head, kisaki emerging from the balcony with a sigh.

“You know as good as I do that it is never smart to ask someone about a tramatic time right after it happens” kisaki deadpans with a scowl as he came up to pat you on the back before walking past you both.

“Do anything to them and I will get the gang on you.” kisaki muttered under his breath as he walks out, making hanma break out into a shit-eating grin.

“of course I won’t, no flying fuck will ever hurt them. ♡”

𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔫𝔞 𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔞𝔴𝔞

(this one is more intense and longer bc.. plot 😃)

“Ran, I swear to god. Put down your baton and stop beating that guy up. He’s already finished, stop beating a dead horse and come on before we get caught.” Izana yelled as Ran sighs and folds his baton up, shoving it in his pocket before jogging to join the gang to look at the aftermath.

“Theres a few still up. Who are they fighting though? Never seen them before..” Rindou thinks out loud as he taps his heels against the cargo container as Izana reverts his attention to the fight.

There were two men ganged up on you, and you had the upper hand as they had already been beaten by others, but you could only fight for so long before even the best could tire out.

“Leave me alone! I just want to talk to him!” you yell as you get knocked down, your back faced to Izana’s gang as the two men inched up on you.

“You interviened with our fight, let our opponent get away, and you want to get away? Not happening sweetheart.” the men said as one of them grabbed you by the neck, lifting you up above their heads to where you were dangling at their mercy. Tears started to fall as your hands battled their strong ones, but their grip only tightened around your neck.

“is that (y/n)?” Rindou asks, but Izana had already jumped down and was running full force towards the two men, Ran right behind him to take out the other one with his baton.

“LET THEM GO!” Izana yelled as he landed a punch deadset on the man’s temple, knocking you out of his grip as you fell down and held your throat, gasping for sweet air you had been without.

You curled up as you listened to Izana and Ran beat up the two men, groans filling the air as they were beaten with the baton. Something was feral about the two, maybe because of what the other gang had done to you, but they cared about you a lot.

“(y/n)? c’mon, lets go. You don’t need to see this.” Ran said as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. As you looked up, you could see Izana perched over the man that had held you, bashing his face in even more than it had been before. mikey stan??

Later on he arrived home, later than both of you would have liked, but he arrived in one piece and with the strength you had felt from those two from your small brawl, you were overjoyed he was home.

“Hey.” he said simply as he put his shoes up and sat next to you on the couch, tilting your head up to examine your neck for marks or bruising so far.

“I’m fine now. I was just.. coming to see you. And when I saw you guys, I didn’t see them. I just.. wanted to see you. Not get you into a fight. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten involved, I’m so stupid.” you ramble about as you tucked your head into your hands, ashamed of yourself more than anything along the lines of being sad or hurt.

“Oh come on, we both know you aren’t stupid. I’m stupid, I should have quit the gang when I became involved with you. I knew it would catch up to us. If any of them ever come after you again, I’ll bash their heads in-”

“Izana.”

“Sorry sorry, I just hate seeing you hurt because of me and my dealings. But if they touch you again-”

“Izana!”

𝔨𝔞𝔷𝔲𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔶𝔞

After mikey had beaten him up, he stumbled home by himself, hurt both physically and emocionally by the audacity and the emotionless beat from mikey.

As soon as he walked in, you went from your normal hug to rushing to get the medical kit for him. You were beyond worried, to the point you were scared of his besten state.

“Kazutora! What happened?!” you exclaim as he sits down on the couch, blood dripping from his nose onto his already stained pants.

“Mikey. He uh.. well we got in a fight.” he says after a while of being silent, which was due to the excruciating pain from the alcohol seeping into his skin as you cleaned up his face and body.

“I can tell that you idiot!” you exclaim as small tears form. There was no reason you were crying, but seeing him, well, anyone, like this was heartbreaking for you, especially when they were so special like he was to you.

“Woah, why are you crying? I should be more than you.” he questions as you rest your head on his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

“You’re just.. you don’t care that you’re like this. Doesn’t it hurt? To be like this? Bleeding and stumbling home?” you mumble as tears paint streaks down his shirt sleeve.

“Well yeah, of course it hurts,” he deadpans “but at least you’re the one bandaging me up instead of the medic at juvy. And even if I might not express it, I appreciate your hugs when I get home and I haven’t gotten mine yet.” he says with a dry laugh.

𝔟𝔞𝔧𝔦 𝔨𝔢𝔦𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔢

“What the hell happened?!” baji yells as he bursts into the bedroom, startling chifuyu and only making you cry harder than you had been.

“They uh..” chifuyu cleared his throat awkwardly “got a taste of a gang.”

Baji walked infront of you to get the full view of your temple with an ice pack on it while there were cuts and bruises littered on your skin throughout the rest of your body.

“The hell? Which gang chifuyu?” baji asks as he kneels down to place his hands on your knees in a sort of way to comfort your pain away.

“Valhalla. Met hanma, and you know how sadistic he is with people.” chifuyu says as he puts away his things into his bag and wraps up the first aid kit.

“Fucking hell. Thanks for bandaging them up for me, chifuyu. I’ll stop by your shop later.” baji says as he ducks his head, laying there on your thighs to ponder all the things he could do to Hanma.

“baji.. just don’t kill him, okay?” you say weakly with a strained smile as he sighs and smiles himself

“No promises, love.”

𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔦 𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔶𝔞

Mitsuya was expecting you to be at a party, but when his little sisters said you were in your shared room asleep, he couldn’t help but worry why.

“When did they get home?” he asks the girls.

Luna and Mana glanced at each other before shrugging and saying “dunno an hour ago?”

He sighed and went to his studio, placing down the bag of supplies there before walking to your room.

Opening the door, and there you were asleep, the outfit he had made for you laying on the floor ripped and stained with red. Your breaths were shallow, deep in slumber as he examined the outfit and then your sleeping figure.

“What trouble did you get into..?” he asks himself as he rubbed circles on your shoulder.

“I didn’t, they found me.” you replied groggily, taking mitsuya by surprise.

“Who exactly is ‘they’?” he asks as he looks back at the apparel on the floor next to the bed.

“mmm… what was the name..? said they were.. Moebius.” you said as you rubbed your eyes.

“Moebius? We delt with them a long time ago..” mitsuya says to himself as he looks back to you.

“Did they hurt you? What is the red?” he asks, motioning to the outfit’s evident coloring.

“No, they didn’t hurt me, just threw wine bottles at me. You can see one of them hit me in the gut.”

“I can tell. They won’t hurt you again, okay? Not on my watch they won’t. I’ll go after them a second time myself if I have to.”

𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔨𝔦 𝔱𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔞

“Hanma leave me alone. I’m going in here, I didn’t invite you. Why did you even walk me home?�� he asks as he leans against the doorway.

“Well, I’m your assistant. It’s nice talking with you on the way home ♡”

“You know I’m fine without that so called ‘assistant’ to walk home, right?” kisaki deadpans.

“I didn’t want you getting hurt. Better to have protection.” hanma says with a grin as he towers over kisaki at the doorway.

”Disgusting.” kisaki says before slamming the door in hanma’s face, rubbing his temple as he walks towards the bathroom to freshen up.

“What is wrong with him..?” kisaki mutters to himself as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the counter before heading to the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face.

“How was work?” you ask, scaring the shit out of him as he meets eyes with you through the mirror.

“You saw me and hanma, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. Kisa, is he more than you claim him to be as?” you ask with a quiver to your lip.

A long silence hangs in the air before a sigh is heard

“Why would I ever date that stupid giant, (y/n?)”

“Well he is always around, and not to be rude, but he loves up on you like he is personal with you. You barely allow me to be that close, and your assistant is up on you?” you exclaim, shocking kisaki with the sudden emotion eruption from you.

“I allow you be that close-”

“No you don’t, Kisaki.”

Now that was messed up. Kisaki? You hadn’t ever called him his real name since you started dating him a few years back.

“Just.. I don’t care anymore. Why can’t I do the things he does..? Hug you, pratically cuddle you, lean on your shoulder?” you ask quietly as your lip quivers even more. You held back tears, barely, but you did. You didn’t want him to see how jealous you were over a simple interaction, but it got to you.

His eyebrow arches somehow more than the mountains they already are as he turns to you fully as he wipes his hands off with a towel.

“You’ve been allowed to do that all this time, what made you think you couldn’t?”

  ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆    ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆    ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Hi! I kinda didn’t know what to do for a few tbh, but I powered through and got.. this? Should I make a part two??

Talk to me if you have a request! <3

(and yes, the dividers for each character are mine.)

I hope this doesn’t happen but please don’t reuse my works/translate them to other platforms! They’re mine and mine only, but you can use them for inspiration and credit me!!

[sugar-omi]

(swiftie asker) THE WAY I FUCKING BAWLED THROUGH THE ENTIRE FUCKING. POST YOU RESPONDED TO MY ASK IN???? BAXTER YOU ARE SO AUGUSTINE CODED GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD

something that always scratches my brain when i remember it is that if we're aligning olba characters with the actual lyrics... to mc it was "just a summer thing", but to baxter it was "summer love" AND THAT THOUGHT FUCKING KILLS ME EVERY SINGLE TIME BECAUSE . "YOU WEREN'T MINE TO LOSE" OHHHH I AM SO FUCKING SICK

not to mention cove being betty oh my fucking days don't even get me started. "i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired" I AM ABOUT TO CRY!! DON'T EVEN START WITH ME!!! i don't fucking play abt the folklore love triangle ESPECIALLY WHEN IT RELATES TO COVE BAXTER AND MC.

yes yes yes!! those lyrics are perfect for this scenario!!! i didnt have time to sit n pick out some from the songs but you read my mind. those are perfect.

honestly, the way i see baxter n MC's fling in canon, i totally think it was more for baxter. he knew it was supposed to be temporary, a summer fling. he knew that. he said that. but he couldn't possibly help falling for you, who could.

you're too sweet, too gorgeous, too kind. he knows this could turn into so much more if he let it but if he did he'd stain you. a white cloth turning brown. mud on a beautiful canvas.

and when you end up with cove, i know it hurt baxter. the way he reacts in the wedding dlc, the way he talked about cove being the perfect husband, partner, friend, son. and that he was just something temporary. fleeting.

"summer love" and "you weren't mine to lose" is so perfect even for canon. he sees how hardworking and sweet cove is, knows he's perfect for you. that cove is the best man anyone could ask for. he can see that. he knows that is truer than anything else.

he knows it was just a summer fling, that's why he tells you not to mind him, and that's why he's confused you'd wanna be friends with him at the end of your wedding.

and he knows he has no business being sad and jealous watching you plan your wedding. he was never a part of the big picture of your life. he was the sweet lemonade you wanted for a summer but cove was the water you need. so he can't be mad that you are making a life with him.

after all, it wasn't supposed to be deep enough for him to lose something. to lose you. so when you drive away with cove, all your wedding plans in place. he can't cry. he has no reason, no right. you weren't his to lose.

also i can so see this with derek too... because derek has a crush on MC, and i know some of us didn't give derek a 2nd glance the first time around. (me. it was me...)

but he sees you falling in love with cove, he sees your relationship with cove growing and growing. you never look at him like that. you never smile or laugh at him like that. you don't linger when you hug him like you do cove, trying to milk every second.

and you won't kiss him like you kiss cove, and you won't say goodbye on the phone the way you do to cove, with a sweet, whispered depart, full of love and every word you say is drenched in it.

and when you start going out, he can't be mad. he never tried. he tried to wait, wanted to prove himself as someone suitable to be by your side.

so how can he be upset that you start dating another man when he never made his move, never asked you to wait for him. never asked you to look at him like you do at cove.

he never fought for his spot in your heart.

he knows you love him, but not the way you love cove. that's different. very different. so different that it clogs up his throat and clouds his eyes and clenches his heart in a vice when he sees you so in love with each other.

he loves you both too much to cry over what he 'lost.' because you were never his to lose.

[juminsmysticmc]

RFA x Mc watching Titanic

So TikTok is filled with edits of Jack and Rose and gosh - I loved this Movie so much, that I even had a Titanic Shirt and a Mug of it. And a pillow and a poster. Okay now - enjoy the first Headcanon after my Hiatus.

Jumin

,,Blankets, Snacks, Drinks. We have everything!“ you clapped your hands as Jumin led you into the private rented cinema.

It was the 25th anniversary of the movie Titanic and even though you watched it a few times back then when you were younger, Jumin Han never did.

However, this was going to change and you were excited to get his reaction.

Well, you couldn’t check on him at all because you were bawling.

You were holding his hand and his other arm was holding your waist as you tried to muffle your sobs.

Seeing so many people not being able to escape made your heart tremble.

Jumin was rubbing your palm, trying to calm you down, but the movie made you always react the same - crying like crazy over fictional characters.

Jumin was still silent, eyes set on the screen.

No reaction was shown until old Rose went to sleep and Rose and Jack met again at the stairs.

Only then you could hear his sobs when you gasped for air.

He was crying.

Thick tears were rolling down his cheeks.

You quickly wiped off his tears, looking deep into his eyes.

The music was still playing loudly but you could hear his words.

,,If the ship we’re on was ever to sink, I would react like him. I would gladly drown in ice cold water for you,“ he confessed, making you sob even harder.  

Zen

,,I don’t think I will like it,“ he mumbled when you pulled him towards the entrance of the cinema.

It was in the movies - how couldn’t you go?

You fell in love with Leonardo DiCaprio aka Jack when you were fifteen and now you could finally watch him on the big screen.

Even in -

,,4D?! Hyun, we have to!“ you gasped and before he could say anything, you paid for the tickets.

Zen afterwards insisted on buying popcorn and drink and since this was a long movie, he bought the biggest bowl.

Sweet popcorn of course.

The movie began and you remembered just how much you loved the sight when Jack stood behind Rose.

Her thinking she was flying… just everything was perfect.

,,It‘s sinking,“ he gasped, Rose and Jack were holding onto the railing, the blonde woman let go and crashed into darkness.

Suddenly you heard someone sniffling and - it was Zen.

He sobbed and tried to not let the whole cinema hear at that point that he was devastated.

,,He‘s dead, isn’t he?“ he asked you, after Rose tried to shake him awake.

Now both of you were bawling your eyes out.

No one was as loud as you guys were.

Luckily, both of you thought about bringing sunglasses with you in the middle of February because your eyes were swollen red, tears smuggled your mascara and you guys just looked hilarious.  

Yoosung

,,I don’t want to ugly sob in the cinema,“ you begged Yoosung who was just purchasing tickets online for the cinema.

He laughed, trying to tell you that it would be alright, but he never watched the movie so how could he know?

He was wrong.

He was the first of the both of you to sob.

He was the one who actually sobbed into your arm.

,,There would have been enough space for him!“ He argued on the way to the car. Yoosung was holding his red glasses as he tried wiping off his tears.

Your lips were still trembling from the hiccups as you shook your head.

,,There wasn’t enough space. It would have-”

,,So you would have let me die in the cold water if it was us?“ he asked you.

With disbelief you smacked his shoulder.

,,I wouldn’t need you to survive now let’s go to dinner,“

Well, the both of you had the same discussion over and over until you even searched up a documentary if Jack would have fit on the door.

Jaehee

,,Oh, that’s the movie everyone’s talking about,“ Jaehee said after she came from the shower, getting under the blankets in your bed.

,,Yeah, Titanic. I remember how much I cried after seeing Leonardo DiCaprio in another movie, happy that he at least was alive,“ you chuckled to yourself.

,,Why, does he die?“ she asked you.

With that you knew that you just spoiled her and that she never watched Titanic.

Business was booming at the moment, and for Valentine's Day you had so many reservations that you feared the cakes for that day wouldn’t be enough.

Still, you decided to keep that one day in the week closed and used that free day to drag Jaehee to the cinema in Seoul and watch Titanic with her.

She guessed that upon hearing of his death, she wouldn’t be that sad.

But she was so wrong.

Seeing how much they loved, how impossible it seemed, intense and deep their love was, and how big the loss afterwards was, Jaehee crumbled.

She sobbed as she held your hand and couldn’t imagine that someone other than Zen would have such an impact on her.

However, Jack had.

Saeyoung

,,As if I am paying for an old movie,“ Saeyoung laughed as he hacked god only knows what and who.

He managed to get the movie started on the TV and honestly you didn’t care as long as you could rewatch the movie.

Saeran at first wanted to literally piss off into his room but you - despite it being Valentine's Day - didn’t allow him.

Instead, Chinese Food was ordered, the three of you sat down on the red couch, you got a blanket and tissues, and you all watched the movie.

The twins for the first time and you for the fourth?

The movie began and everyone was quickly absorbed into it.

You were almost laying on Saeyoung who was tickling your arm while Saeran sat next to you, his feets over yours.

At some point both of them got rather emotional.

,,They’re just kids…aren’t they all the same?“ Saeran asked you, his eyes showed pure…sadness.

,,She‘s going without him! She‘s saving herself!“ Saeyoung gasped when Rose was about to get saved with her mother.

You stayed silent…and when she jumped out…

The real sobs were beginning now.

For the three of you.

Until the movie finished.

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

28.02.2023 // 22:00 MEST

[elfboyeros]

The Ballerina, The Vampire, and Their Calypso

3 and ½ events that have great importance to Belladonna, Wilhelm, and by proxy Calypso.

⚠️Domestic Violence and an old man with shit vibes ahead⚠️

1.

Wilhelm never wanted to be violent. He only wished to visit the young Russian ballerina who had been a swan for the past few months he had only met briefly, give her a bouquet of red and orange carnations and a box of chocolate-covered cherries, maybe kiss her hand, tell her she is beautiful, bid her farewell never to see her again until he comes back to Russian on travels decades into the future only to find her grave.

However, her husband had other plans.

“Sergei, please!”

The shrieking could be heard down the hallway, the clattering of trinkets to the floor, and incoherent masculine yelling that only made the tall German man speed up his step and throw her dressing room door open. Viewing the most horrid sight.

That perfect ballerina in the abusive and violent clasp of a vulgar man, his Bela’s black locks in a death grip as if this evil man was attempting to pull it out of the roots of her scalp. Her makeup was ruined by her tears and crying, glass on the floor cutting her knees and delicate skin as she was continuously forced upon the floor, while her abuser continued to scream, shout, and yell at her.

“YOU CHILD!” Wilhelm bawled, taking hold of this ugly man and shoving him in Bela’s vanity mirror shattering it, “YOU DO NOT BREAK A WOMAN NOR ANYONE AS IF THEY WOODEN TOYS!”

“Are you the man she’s leaving me for!” Sergei spat before being shoved into the broken glass behind him, hissing at the feeling of it digging into his skin.

“I sent her flowers, gave her chocolates and cherries because she is a talented ballerina! I would never take a woman from another man!” Wilhelm bellowed, “Yet you are not a fit man to be in her presence let alone be married to her!”

It would have been horrific for anyone else to watch, a large pale man dressed in the darkest of fabrics throwing the person you had sworn your life to in the name of god as if he were a ragdoll, breaking his bones, and making him scream in agony it is a wonder that no one has barged into the room.

“It’s rather improper of me to play with my food,” Wilhelm muttered quietly before sneaking his teeth into Sergei’s neck.

Hideous to anyone else… to Bela it screams Heaven.

“And of course, your blood is just as disgusting as you,” the German man comments spitting out the last bit of Sergei’s blood on the light-colored floor beneath his feet, turning back to Bela blood staining his face, seeing her frozen on the floor still atop broken glass looking at his shocked with wide hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry, mein schwan,” he stammered, attempting to wipe the blood from around his mouth, “I must be quite scary like—”

“Scary, you divine!” Bela cooed, struggling to standing.

“Bela!” He gasped rushing to her side as glass crunched beneath her feet.

“You killed him, right?” she heaved digging her crackled and broken nails into his coat.

“Yes, dear, he’s dead. Careful, schwan! Do you have shoes anywhere?”

“The wardrobe,” she sighed, pointing to the large wooden closet, as he cleared off the seat of her vanity chair and helped her sit, “Are you going to take me away from here?”

“Yes, mein schwan,” he answered, pulling out a sensible pair of shoes from the wardrobe,

“What are you calling me when you say schwan?”

“Swan, I’m calling you my swan, dear,” He said softly before kneeling in front of her as she smiled, “May I clean the blood?” he asked to which she nodded.

 “I will take you home, and you won’t have to worr—"

“I don’t want to go home,” she remarked, as she watched him lick the blood off the bottom of her feet and place them in her shoes.

“Where would you have me take you?”

“Take me with you!”

“You wish to go with me?”

“Yes! I will not be a burden, I can even go on my way when we return to wherever you are from, just take me away from here!” She begged

“Shush, shush, shush, mein schwan, there is no need to beg,” Wilhelm cooed in her the skin of her knees, “I’ll whisk you away.”

“Thank you,” Bela sighed.

“Don’t thank you, dear,” He muttered, standing, “Can you stand?”

Standing upon her shaky knees, he wraps her in his winter coat and scopes her up in his arms before she can even move. Her body trembling within his grasp, “Relax my swan,” he cooed resting his forehead against hers, “I’ve got you.”

He took her to her home, allowing her to grab any personal items she would want to keep. Disgusted by the domestic she was forced to live in, the cigarettes littering the nauseating carpet, bottles, and glasses of alcohol covering every surface.

Yet she is rushing herself.

“Dear, take your time,” He remarked softly.

She packed a few books, a quilt, a pair of point shoes, a portrait of who could assume was her maternal family, two shoe boxes, a jewelry box, a few casual dresses, a couple of leotards, and some negligée.

“Can you take me one more place?” She asked.

“Of course, just tell me where.”

She had him take her to a cemetery. It scared him at first, for a moment he believed that is was some performance, a request to kill her and then buried alongside her Russian peers, however, her request was far from his daydream while watching her walk through the snow, the bottom of his dark winter coat dragging as she did so.

She was there to visit, for the last time.

Talking to the columbarium wall he took a mental note of the graves she was speaking to the stones she was touching, committing the women’s name to memory for future purposes.

“Give me a new name,” She requested staining the stones below her feet with tears.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me a new name! I can’t be Bela Pavlova anymore! give me a new name no one has ever said, but you!” She begged grabbing his shirt, “You give me a new name, or you kill me, and I don’t want to die! Please, Wilhelm!”

“Please don’t beg,” Wilhelm cooed pitifully.

“I just want a new start,” she muttered.

“And I’ll have one,” Wilhelm commented, “As Belladonna Con Vester.”

2.

Naming her after the plants around his Romanian home, he took her into his allowing her to get comfortable in his large gothic home. It doesn’t take long for them to be Wed, for her warmth to be his blanket in bed and his gaze to fuel her desires. For her blood to be the only thing he wants to consume and his embrace to swallow her whole.

She’s his Belladonna, until the end, and where would be most pleasant to die comfortably at his side in old age, the idea soon made Belladonna nauseous, and melancholic.

“Wilhelm…”

“Mein schwan” he mused, sitting his book and glasses aside while in the comfort of the plush palace he called a bed, “You look so sad,” he cooed as she approached. “What-ever is the matter? How can I fix it?”

She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, picking at the skin around her nails. “My sweet Belladonna,” he breathed, taking ahold of her hands so she wouldn’t make her skin bleed, “Talk to me.”

“I’m afraid,” she muttered

“Of what, swan?”

“Dying.”

“Belladonna don’t…”

“I want you to turn me.”

“Bela,” Wilhelm sighed.

“I know you don’t want to turn me, but I don’t want to leave you!”

“Swan, you are so young!”

“I’ll grow old before long, and I will die, and you keep living, and forget me to the deep spaces of your brain, and even find another woman—”

“Shush, I’ll never forget you, I’d also never find another woman—”

“Wilhelm please!” Belladonna begged tears rolling down her face, “I love you so much! I want to spend forever with you! Not my forever, your forever! I would give up everything for the ability to not worry about dying! Make me a vampire, please!”

He hated seeing her cry, beg, and plead. He grabbed her face locking her lips with his, before resting his forehead against hers, “My sweet sweet Bela,” he cooed looking into her hazel eyes, “Believe me, I want to turn you, I do, but I too am afraid. Fear has consumed me whole since being turned and I fear that you will be consumed too and I would hate to leave you trapped in a body just as that you may hate.”

“You act as if I’m afraid of you,” Belladonna replied softly, “I wouldn’t beg and plead for you to do it if I was scared.”

Wilhelm hummed, stroking her cheeks with his thumb, before picking her up, plopping her down in his lap, toying with the straps of her nightdress, and petting her skin through the satin fabric. “Tell me no, and I will stop,” he sighed into her ear before laying her down in all of their pillows.

“I love you,” he cooed into her neck, “My sweet, beautiful Belladonna~”

Her high-pitched moans filled his ears as he broke her skin with his fangs, enjoying the taste of her blood on his tongue. Consuming her blood while her nails dug into his nightshirt and her moans continued. Licking at her puncher wound, he sat up digging his nail into his arm cutting him enough to where his blood would flow out.

“Drink, mein schwan,” he muttered, pressing his bloody arm to her lips, “drink until you are full.”

She did as she was told drinking his blood from his arm for what felt like hours, panting with a satisfied glint in her eye as she stared at Wilhelm, when all was said and done, “I love you, Wil.”

He hummed smiling, wiping his own blood from the corner of her lips, “I love you too, Bela.”

3.

The 21st Century brought a surprising discovery. A possible pure vampire birth! It was truly an exciting prospect for both Belladonna and Wilhelm, however, the first birth vampire in two centuries sparked fear in Belladonna, especially having any knowledge of the vampiric world and being only 124.

“Mein schwan,” Wilhelm muttered, watching her play with her wedding ring as it sat on her finger anxiously, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“I doubt I can just charm Gustave,” Belladonna commented.

Wilhelm chuckled, “You charmed me. Just with one dance, I might add, before you even knew I existed.”

“You speak the truth, but Gustave is not you,” Belladonna sighed, “There will never be another you.”

The large doors in front of them opened the large throne-like room covered in black and red hues with a man sitting atop a throne, vampires all around him as his coven of sorts. He looked elderly in the face however his large body contradicted his facial appearance. Staring at Wilhelm and Belladonna with judging eyes.

“So, you found yourself a beautiful Russian girl, Wilhelm,” the older vampire vocalized with his deep baritone voice, “It’s been almost 400 years. I’m proud of you. Congratulations.”

Wilhelm let out a laugh, “Thank you, Gustave.”

Gustave took his gaze from his “pets” to look at Belladonna, “So you’re the talented little ballerina,” he remarked, “You are Bela, right?”

“Belladonna, sir,” She answered, her hands crossed in front of her as they rested again on her stomach.

“Congratulations on your child,” Gustave cooed, standing from his throne, “Allow me a moment alone with mother and child, Wilhelm.”

Belladonna looked at Wilhelm anxiously. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead before leaving. Gustave placed two fingers under her chin tilting her gaze up to stare into his bright red eyes.

“You want reassurance,” Gustave stated.

She nodded, “Well, there is nothing to worry about,” he said with a smirk, “However, I do have a request…”

Belladonna looked at him confused as he swiftly turned around making his way back to his throne, “Give the child to me.”

“Excuse me?”

“See I cannot I have an unbelievable hunger, and I can only survive on the blood of my lovely pure vampiric pets here,” Gustave explained gesturing to his walking blood pantry, “I only ask for your child to go my lovely little coven, of age of course.”

“No!”

Her no bounced off the walls, making Gustave turn back around and look at her with an intense questioning gaze, “No? One cannot control a child when they are of age.”

“One cannot decide the path of their child, either!” Belladonna replied, “I’m not promising all but my child’s soul to you!”

“Mmhp,” Gustave sighed, “You are going to have the first pure vampire in 2 fucking centuries and you are keeping her from me—”

“Because it’s my child!” Belladonna yelled, her voice reverberating off the columns and shocking everyone in the room, “I’m not allowing you to take my daughter away from whatever life she could have before she is able about to make her decisions!”

“Belladonna?” Wilhelm questioned reentering the throne room, seeing the angry look on Gustave’s face and the shock on his pure blood coven as he approached his wife.

“You should have taught your wife more about our kind, you pathetic man!” Gustave roared.

“He wants our daughter,” Belladonna muttered as Wilhelm put her into a protective hold.

“Gustave—”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I AM!” The French vampire screamed, “EVERY ONE OF THE PURE VAMPIRES ARE UNDER MY CONTROL—”

“THEN YOU HAVE ENOUGH!” Wilhelm shouted after scooping Belladonna up in arms and swiftly leaving as Gustave yelled obscenities at them.

½

There was an unspoken vow made between Belladonna and Wilhelm that day: protect their little girl. Aided by their home only a select few know about, their house staff, private school, and Wilhelm’s many allies, it seems like a village popped up once the little Calypso was born ready.

“MOMA!”

“Yes, Bunny!”

“I need help with my hair!”

Belladonna chuckled, “Come here then.”

Their young pale little black hair girl, only about 14, made her way into their living room where her parents were settled. A hairbrush, a few hair ties, and ribbons in hand, “I tried doing braids and they’re not coming out right!”

“Come here baby, I’ll fix it,” Belladonna cooed.

Sitting down in front of the couch in between her mother’s legs as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes began to play on the television, Belladonna sighed as she sectioned Calypso’s hair down the middle and began to braid the sections, “Marilyn Moore was such a talented woman.”

Wilhelm let out a sound of agreement before looking up from his tablet, staring at his girls as he talked amongst themselves, he found joy in just observing them while sitting in his armchair.

“You’re staring, dearest,” Belladonna remarked, tying the ribbons in nice bows, at the end of Calypso’s braid, “Go see if you like that, bunny.”

The young vampire got up and toddled off to the bathroom as Wilhelm moved from his armchair to the couch cushion next to Belladonna, “I can’t help it, Swan,” he said kissing her cheek, “I can’t help but keep an eye on my girls.”

“I LOVE IT MOMA, THANK YOU!”

“You’re welcome, Bun—Oof,” mid-sentence Wilhelm basically tackled her on the couch causing her to lay against the soft cushions, “Wilhelm!”

“I need a nap,” He muttered into her neck.

“You slept all night,” Belladonna huffed, “And it’s only 8:30 in the morning you have done nothing!”

“Shshsh! I’m sleeping,” he cooed.

She giggled as Calypso came back into the living room school bag in hand, “I’m going to school.”

Wilhelm popped his head up, “Have a nice day, princess.”

“Remember come straight home,” Belladonna added, “And be nice to Phillip!”

“Okay, love you!”

“Love you too!” They both replied, before settling in on the couch for a early morning nap.

[genpact-kinfessions]

I know there is already an ask game going on, so Mod Lyney, feel free to delay this post until you think everyone has had a chance to answer the current one who wants to. That being said, I’d like to ask what everyone’s reactions were to their source character. Was it emotional? How did you first realize that you were kin?

I’d like to go first.

I had considered myself a Furina kin before plying through the Fontaine archon quest. I had her as a playable character, and had seen clips of the story all over the internet. It was spoiled for me, you see. So even though I have considered myself to be her for quite some time, it was only recently that I played through the story featuring her in full. At the time I am submitting this, it had been at most a couple of hours. I am still emotionally shaken even after the fact. There are just far too many parallels between me and her.

(I’ll basically be spoiling Fontaines story so if you haven’t played through then you have been warned :))

I had recently died my hair blue, and the hair dye had stained my white nail polish a sort of sky blue color in the days I started the Fontaine archon quest. It took me a couple days to get through it all. At first I was struck by how much the two of us were alike, the drama, the legal prowess, the feeling that we alone must shoulder the burden of our respective worlds. But as I started, I was hit with the weight of everything. The fear of losing the belief and trust of those around me was represented perfectly. I felt a stab of pain in my chest during Furina’s trail as the Fontainians called her an unworthy fraud. It’s one of the things I most fear—public humiliation. The desperation to prove my own worth, even at the risk of harming myself, just as Furina dipped her hand into the bowl of primordial seawater. The enduring panic and agony that hides just below the surface, endured by the glaring stage lights. Turn them off! Turn them off! At this point I was bawling my eyes out. I couldn’t read the diploide clearly and had to depend on the voice overs entirely. I struggled to fight the mekas. The realization that like Furina, I have been playing my role for far too long. I don’t know when it will end. I bury any sadness deep down. I am so so lonely. I lack the ability to be my true self to anyone, and I believe I am fully incapable of it. I don’t even know if I have a true self, but oh how I wish to share it with someone, someone who understands!

I needed to take a break so I went downstairs to eat a popsicle, where my mother places a tiara on my head. I had left it sitting on the table for months. It was a birthday present. I could feel her passing on the burden of sin to me. My parents where the ones who gave birth to me. Parents are the birth givers, the creators of humanity, the creators of sin. And the tiara also represented all the anguish and sorrow they couldn’t understand. I have always been to volatile and to sensitive. I have never been accurate enough or perfect enough at anything I have done. I am human, not a god. I am still wearing the tiara as I write this. I’m not sure if I can air it off.

And of course the game had the nerve to conclude by telling me thanks, and to live out my life happily as a human. I’m not sure I can do that, or that I even have it in me. I’m still playing my part. The 500 years are not up for me yet! But I do wish anyone else who kins Furina (or just anyone who reads this, including you, Mod Lyney) to be happy, to live life to the fullest. We don’t know when it will end. We are just fleeting specks of dust, and soon the flood comes for us all.

So anyways sorry for dumping this here but if anyone wants to answer the question I’d love to see your responses /gen

Playing my part as always,

🪼✨

Don't worry about delaying it, I have multiple running constantly 'cus I don't know when to end them /lh

[pensat-i-fet]

A Manchester Affair (Rúben Dias): Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

Masterlist

Wattpad

"You sure it's ok?"

"It's ok Scott, don't worry. I had to babysit kids to get some extra cash before working for Bayern, I know what I'm doing".

"But it's three kids. Including two babies", he repeated once again.

"I know. It'll be fine!"

"You are the best, you know that right?"

"Of course I know", she winked at him.

Scott had come to Lucía’s house panicking. Because of some family issues, his sister and her partner had to travel to Scotland and Scott was going to be looking after their kids since his parents were also out of town. But the final day they were there was a day before a match and he needed to go stay with the squad in a hotel. Lucía, however, could stay home if she wanted, so she offered to look after them that day.

"Rúben is away that Saturday, right?"

"He'll be back in the evening, I guess".

"I'm ok with him helping you and staying with my nephews and my niece. Just so you know. I don’t think you’ll refuse any help you can get".

The topic of Rúben was always a weird one. Scott was a huge supporter of their relationship, but they hadn't met properly yet and she worried about how that would go. But every little comment like this one made her confident that they could actually be friendly towards each other.

"Ok, it’s good to know", she smiled.

"Well, I gotta go pick them up. Thanks again", he said, giving her a hug.

**

When Scott closed Lucía’s door and turned to go to the lift, he saw Rúben approaching the apartment.

"Hey mate", he said.

"Hi. I didn't know you were visiting".

"Just asking her for a favour. Nothing else".

The tension could be cut with a knife.

"I know Scott. And…sorry for, you know, what happened at the match".

Scott laughed. "I get it. I would have probably done the same".

He then extended his hand so Rúben could shake it. "Friends? For her?"

"Friends", said Rúben, shaking Scott's hand.

"Anyway, go see your girl. I have a very busy day ahead of me. I'll see you around, I guess".

"Yes. Bye".

**

"Did you bump into Scott? He just left", asked Lucía, looking to be completely transparent with Rúben.

"I did and we are friends now".

"You are?", she asked, surprised.

"Kind of".

That made her laugh, but also made her very happy. There was nothing she wanted more than for them to get on well.

"So, are you ready for the movie?", she said, laughing at him.

"Why can't we just watch a comedy?"

"Because we watched one the other day and it’s my turn to pick. Besides Scream has a lot of comedy in it!! It's the perfect combination".

"You said that about the last horror movie too", he complained.

"Stop being a baby and pay attention. The opening scene is so good".

**

Saturday arrived and it was time for Lucía’s big babysitting job.

Scott had a niece that was three years old and then two twin nephews that were still babies. Definitely a lot of work but she felt like she could do it. Right?

Only two hours later, she realised she wasn’t ready for it at all. The babies kept waking up at different times and crying because they probably missed their mum. Scott's niece was busy playing and didn't want to help out with her brothers. Well, at least she wasn't causing much drama.

By the time Lucía had to start making their dinner, her shirt had dried vomit on it, her hair looked like a nest, there were toys all over her living room and she even found some in the toilet. It was a disaster.

She threw all her nutrition knowledge out of the window and just made some fish fingers with mashed potatoes for her and Scott's niece. She wanted to put ketchup on then?…well, so be it. At least she was eating. She’d take any wins, no matter how small.

And speaking of babies, the veggie purée she made for them seemed to be well received until one of them started to spit it. Brilliant. 

How could parents do this without crying every day?

The idea of bath time totally made her want to bawl her eyes out.

"Someone is knocking on the door, I'll open it", she heard the little girl say while she started to walk in the door’s direction.

"No!!! You can't open the door to strangers".

"My parents let me do it at home", she said seriously.

"Yeah, pretty sure they don't, young lady".

When Lucía opened the door, she found Rúben there.

"Bad time to visit?", he chuckled, seeing the way she looked.

"I want to hug you but I'm so gross right now".

He let himself in and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Yes, this is Rúben. My boyfriend".

"My uncle is more handsome, you should date him".

"Sorry babe, the jury has decided. I have to date uncle Scott".

“Who am I going to date then?”, said Rúben, pouting.

“Me!!”, said Scott’s niece.

“So that was her plan all along. She wanted you for herself but sent me to her uncle as a consolation prize”, laughed Lucía.

Rúben just shook his head and went to see how the babies were doing.

“Ok, honey. How about we take you to the bath now and then you can watch some TV while I bathe your little brothers?”

“Can I have ice cream while I watch TV?”, she said.

“Sure”, said Lucía, so tired that she’d give her a chocolate fountain if that helped.

When she walked past the spare room on her way to the bathroom, she saw Rúben holding both babies. They looked so tiny being held by him. He was bouncing them in his legs and making them giggle. And it took Lucía a second, or twenty, to realized she needed to stop staring and help Scott’s niece with her bath.

Three baths later, she was ready to collapse on the sofa. But it was occupied by Rúben, who had Scott's niece next to him, holding onto his arm while they watched TV.

"Everything ok here? Babies are sleeping".

Rúben turned to look at her. "All good. How about you take a shower now that it's all calmed down. I'll look after her".

"You're perfect".

"I recall you saying that the day we met, yeah".

She chuckled at his words and left to shower. They had come a long way since that dinner with Pep. 

When she got back to the living room, Lucía saw a little three-year-old girl hugging Rúben while trying to keep her eyes open to finish watching the movie.

“I guess I’m not the only one who likes your cuddles”.

He looked up at her and smiled. “I’ve got two arms”.

But when she sat next to him to cuddle to his side, a little hand slapped hers.

“No! Rúben is mine”.

“Is he now? Where am I supposed to sit then?”

“Next to me”, she said. And so that’s what Lucía did, shaking her head.

But not even 10 minutes later, the little one was already sleeping and so Rúben took her to her bed before coming back to the sofa.

“I think I’m allowed to be your boyfriend again”, he said before leaning in to kiss her.

They could have stayed in that moment for hours after such a tiring day.

“You don’t have to stay today if you don’t want to”.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“The kids will wake up in the middle of the night and you should rest after your match”, she said, putting her head on his shoulder.

“And you need to rest before your match tomorrow”.

“Yes, but it’s not the same. I'm not a player”.

“No, you’re more important than the players”, he said. “Imagine Varane hurts his ankle but you’re so sleepy that you start treating his arm. It would be on national TV. Embarrassing!”

Lucía turned her head so his arm could muffle the sound of her laughing. 

“Let’s go to bed then”, she said, grabbing his hand.

**

The night wasn’t as bad as she expected, even though she did have to wake up a couple of times to look after the babies. But when Scott’s sister knocked on the door, Lucía literally sprinted to open it.

“Thank you for looking after them. I hope it wasn’t too bad”, she said.

“It was ok, don’t worry”.

“But you aren’t doing it again anytime soon, right?”, she laughed.

“I’ll leave the babysitting to uncle Scott”.

“I’ll let him know he has to bring you with him to a Sunday dinner, so we can thank you for yesterday. And so everyone else can meet you”.

“I’d love to go, thank you”.

“Amazing! Thank you again. And say hi to my brother later”, she said, leaving and somehow managing to make it look simple to control three kids.

“I will!”

“That family will be devastated to find out you and Scott aren’t together”, said Rúben, making her jump. She thought he was still in the shower.

“Yeah, well”, she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m joking”.

“Are you?”

“Yes, too early?”, he laughed.

“A bit”, she said, laughing too. “But you aren’t wrong. I think they are getting the wrong idea so Scott better let them know before they try to turn me into a McTominay when I meet them”.

“Just tell them you’ll be a Dias one day”.

“I’ll tell them I’ll keep my own last name”, she said, rolling her eyes. 

“So…”, he said, changing the subject. “Did that count as practice?”

Lucía turned to look at him with a frown on her face but quickly realised what he meant.

“Yesterday gave me the complete opposite of baby fever, Dias. Ask me again in a year. That’s how long it’ll take me to recover”.

“You know, they usually come one by one, not three at once”, laughed Rúben.

“Can’t risk it!”

**

The next day Lucía had a photo shoot to attend. It was one of the most bizarre requests she got, but the team was actually happy to get any type of promotion. I mean, was there a product they weren’t sponsored by? It was a bit ridiculous.

So there she was, on the set of Women’s Health, ready to pose for a couple of photos and talk about her job at United.

The guy who was interviewing her didn’t seem particularly friendly. He also kept on getting her name wrong, which was really annoying. Isn’t part of the job to make sure you actually know who you are talking to?

“Are you in a relationship?”, asked the journalist.

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you have a boyfriend”.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with my job”, she said, side-eyeing him.

“Just answer the question. You are a young woman working surrounded by men, people want to know”.

Lucía almost felt like leaving the set at that moment, but seeing how he talked to her, she had the feeling that if she did that, the article would not be very flattering.

“I do have a boyfriend, yes”.

“Wasn’t that hard”, he muttered.

The rest of the interview went as well as she could hope for and then she posed for the photos. It was weird for her to be posing in these types of sport clothes. She was more used to just the team’s clothes, but hey, new experiences and all that. Everyone in the team told her to enjoy it, and she was going to try to do just that. Even if having a wind machine directed at her face wasn’t really her idea of a good time.

[othercat2]

This Crossover is Full of Pandaemonium

Chrono Crusade and SVSSS is an almost perfect fit.

Chrono Crusade: Girl makes a contract with a devil in order to find her brother. They both become exorcists of a demon-hunting religious order to do this. It turns out that the "devils" are actually aliens! Key bit of information about these devils: Devils are composed of cells referred to as "Legion." (I tended to interpret them as being biotechnic organisms, basically nanotech Bee People.) The manga ending features the antagonist trying to set off a Grey Goo apocalypse because he hates imperialism that much. He's stopped by Chrono, the titular demon of the manga series. The success is Pyrrhic though, and the ending made me bawl my eyes out.

Anyway! Say it turns out that the SVSSS Heavenly Demons are Heavenly in the sense that they are aliens! Specifically, the Chrono Crusade aliens. But not as a precise crossover. This was a different ship, a different cosmic accident, that crashed and resulted in the PIDW Heavenly Demons. (And the passengers, not the crew, which is why they don't have horns putting them under the control of the ship.)

In addition, because why not include the transmigrator elements, lets have either Chrono (one of the two protagonists) or Aion (the antagonist), or both end up in PIDW verse.

Choose your player:

Aion: Okay so, Aion is a monster. He cannot help being a monster because the ritual that would have permanently enslaved him to a horrifying gestalt of screaming ghosts being used as fuel/computer/life support system went wrong and as a result, he has a deep and utter loathing for any form of hierarchal control. It probably didn't help that the Elders of his community decided to put down him and his entire generation because something went wrong. (This does not stop him from taking advantage of it.) To make things worse, he is an idealistic monster, in the sense that he believes that his actions are correct and righteous, and in a certain sense they very well might be. Our boy could be best said to be an anarchist. He believes that the mass extinction event he's trying to trigger will lead to a better, more peaceful, with a better and kinder way of life. However, he's going about it in a way that is utterly lacking in individual compassion for the folks he's willing to murder for his cause. (I kind of headcanon him as being neurodivergent. I played and wrote him as somewhat unable to grok actual social cues, and made him the kind of literal-minded where you just go down a rabbit hole of why certain phrases mean certain things, which is more or less canon because he keeps mixing up common aphorisms or remembering them incorrectly in canon.)

Chrono: Our boy is Aion's brother. Chrono adored and believed in his brother and what he thought was their joint goal of freedom and safety from their people, who were still trying to hunt them down. His faith is shaken after a sequence of events that results in the death of Mary, the woman they both care about. Aion kills the woman, who has vast gifts of precognition because the woman was subsumed by the Horrifying Ghost Gestalt Monster. He believed there was no hope and no cure, and because Aion is a kind of a complete bastard, he ordered Chrono to kill her. Chrono objects and tries to run for it with Mary, but Mary ends up dead anyway. Chrono possessed greater compassion and empathy for individuals. (Also neurodivergent, but in a slightly different way. His behavior seems to indicate that he was probably the one assigned as the "responsible one" in childhood. He's very empathetic and protective of those he's close to. He's gentler than Aion, buuut paradoxically more likely to go absolutely berserk if a loved one is threatened.)

Both these boys have so much fucking ptsd.

Both can almost look completely human except for their hair and eyes. (Aion: white hair, light purple eyes, Chrono, red eyes, purple hair. I might make them better and disguises.)

The possibilities of who I could stick them with are endless. Aion would probably go to ground and become a crime boss. This is what he knows, and would be good at, even in Fantasy Ancient China. Possibly he gets involved with demonic cultivators because that is also a part of his mo. Those demonic cultivators will probably end up very dead, but no great loss. An interesting story might be Aion taking in Shen Jiu, or stumbling across bitty!Mobei-jun. Or both! Aion would probably be in a crisis of faith because of having been defeated/stopped by Chrono, but would start weaving new plots almost immediately because fuck all hierarchal systems.

Chrono on the other hand is usually moved to support. What Chrono knows is "exorcism" which is essentially being a demon hunter. Our boy ends up going on a lot of night hunts, and maybe acquires a social network that way. He'd make an extra effort to seem human. He'd end up becoming very well known as a "cultivator." I would also want to have him maybe run into Shen Jiu or maybe Shang Qinghua. Or maybe Su Xiyan.

[detectivemaker]

Jarvis and Jonathan f*** with people 2:  replacement March

Neil Richards sits in  a hotel counting stacks of money he just stole from a bank, he thinks about how lucky he was not to have encountered those Teen Titans, in fact he's hasn't seen the Teen Titans in the past two weeks, and honestly he's kind of worried about the kids. Sure they might be meddling little brats but some good part of him cares about these kids like a teacher cares about his students, Neil thinks he should probably think of a little bit more about that later but right now you have to count money and so he continues, something interrupts his Counting and he looks over to his door when he hears a knock, he goes over and when he open the door there's Jarvis touch tears flowing like rivers from his eyes. The phone you can say anything Jarvis is in his house sitting on his couch bawling his eyes out,  Neil comes to sit beside him and ask him what's wrong. " John got arrested" Jarvis said before falling into more pills of Tears," oh my, what happened" Neil says as Jarvis wipes has eyes and continues what's a sniff " we got pulled over when we were driving away from a Heist and John caused a distraction well I ran away with one of those sacks of money, Oh Neil I miss him so much" Jarvis says as he begins the tears a new, new holds Jarvis and his arms and Comforts him with a hand stroking down his back

eventually the tears subside once more and Jarvis looks up into his eyes and says something shocking," but I think I have a solution to my sadness, I need to find a new March Hare keep me company until John breaks out, and luckily for me" Neil's  mind begins to fog the before he loses Consciousness he hears Jarvis continued " I found the perfect replacement"

...

Jarvis poured tea into a cup, and slid it over to the other man is a tea table,   the two men clink the cups and begin to drink, when Jarvis is done with his cup he looks at is companion and is met with dead eyes and a vacant smile. A loving smile splits Jarvis's lips as he runs a hand through his replacement March's fire truck red locks, giving one of the fake ears a playful Fleck, he grabs news hands and pull them up to begin a waltz, and as they move to the rhythm of a silent song Jarvis thinks he should really think the Titans letting him crash at their place and also letting him  have easy access Neil Richards, faintly the sound of teenage rock music play from another room most likely that delightful green boy's, as they continue to dance Jarvis's thoughts drift into fantasies of dancing of soft piano music with Jonathan. But unfortunately the fantasies are interrupted by the sound of the metal door to their little tea room being opened and when Jarvis looks over there is the form of that Pleasant but kind of spooky demon girl standing there looking little bit embarrassed," can I join you guys" the girl, Raven Jarvis thinks her hero name was, Whispers. What's a following smile Jarvis goes over to somewhere else and walks back holding a folding chair, unfolding, and motioning for the girl to come in. Later Jarvis, and the rest of the Titans are watching a cartoon about horses or some other equines in the living room on a flat screen TV and eating brownies that Jarvis made, drivers looks behind the couch to see replacement March laying on the floor with that same vacant smile on his lips, he looks back in the cartoon and smiles

[theghostpinesmusic]

Seeing as how I haven't done a music-related write-up for a bit and how it's currently 4:30pm and therefore too late in the day to start on another work-related project of actual substance...I'm going to tell you about this version of "Bathtub Gin" that I like!

As I said (threatened?) in my last Goose post, I'm consciously branching out a little between now and whenever the hell the next Goose show will be. In my own personal listening, "branching out" means I've been listening to a lot of stuff I've never heard before, both stuff that's totally new to me and stuff that's been sitting ignored on my "Try this!" list for a long time. In my blog writing, "branching out" apparently means "writing about the band I've listened to the most by an entire order of magnitude for the last twenty-five years."

Hey, if I can't be perfect I'm sure as hell going to stop trying.

I am not going to start this post with a primer on Phish because a) if you're reading this you either already know them or you don't know them and don't care, and b) there are literal books about this out there because these guys have been playing for forty years and every little thing they do is steeped in weird mythology and inside jokes and as much as I love all of it, I don't love it enough to write a hundred thousand words about it.

If you're somehow entirely new to the band and also feel an obsessive need to learn/dive in, my super idiosyncratic recommendation is to listen to their album A Live One a few times, and then buy and read through this very short book by Walter Holland, who in my humble opinion is sort of like the Hunter S. Thompson of writing about Phish jams.

I will henceforth only be writing in the micro- and macro-cosms about this particular version of Phish's "Bathtub Gin" and my reactions to it, despite not being the Hunter S. Thompson of writing about Phish jams.

Biologically speaking, I almost certainly, technically have THC in my bloodstream right now if that somehow makes you feel better.

So, Phish was one of the first places I turned at the beginning of this little Goose hiatus. For a lot of reasons, despite being the band that most immediately jumps to my mind when the phrase "favorite ever" is used in a variety of contexts, I haven't listened to Phish much over the last few years. I wrote a little bit about why in this previous post, and to keep my promise of staying focused and save myself some time typing, I won't say any more for the moment: suffice to say that I overdid it a little bit with The Phish and The Phish's Internet Fandom, which soured me on the band's music and left me sitting on the sidelines for years, wondering if it was the band that had come, over time, to suck ass, or whether it was just me.

Well, I'm relieved to report that it was, in fact, me who was doing the ass-sucking.

I learned this, in large part, by diving into the band's recent New Year's Eve (NYE) run at Madison Square Garden (MSG). I actually started my Goose Interregnum concert-viewing here only because the run had just ended and I'd seen online that the band had played all the way through its storied, elusive, and utterly dorky "Gamehendge" saga on 12/31, for the first time since 1994 (or maybe 1995, kill me in the comments Phish fans, I'm ready to die).

I wanted to see this, even if after the fact and from my couch, because back in my early Phish fan-Hood (see what I did there?) Gamehendge had been a big part of what drew me to the band, and I was excited by the prospect of being a grown-ass, middle-aged man bawling his eyes out on his basement couch because in a video another old man was on a stage singing a song about a bulldog and a cat fighting to the death while a comet crashed into Earth, bringing about the end times.

When you're a straight, white kid growing up in suburbia, you either become an absolute monster or your brain finds really fucking weird things to care a lot about. I like to think I fit into the second category.

Anyway, with a more-than-usual amount of spare time on my hands, I decided to try watching the entire MSG NYE run, starting with 12/28 instead of jumping straight to 12/31. I thought, maybe, I'd have a decently fun time and get a good sense of where Phish was at musically (an important thing to know when all the band members are sixty-ish years in age and you haven't heard or seen them play since 2021). Then I watched 12/28 and it destroyed me. Like, this band of aging dork-rockers literally lit the entire arena on fire with their instruments and it burned down around them while they just kept jamming. I'm not sure how anyone escaped MSG alive, let alone how there were concerts there for the next three nights.

12/29 was just as good, if not better, and 12/30 was an incredible show that only paled in comparison to the previous two. My reaction surprised me, and so that's why I cranked up the ol' typing machine, shoveled some fresh coal into the boiler, and sat down to write about...wait, what was I actually writing about, again?

Oh, yeah. "Bathtub Gin."

I'm not gonna give you a lengthy history of this song, for all the same reasons I cited above for not giving you a long history of Phish as a band. I will tell you it's a "classic" Phish song in that it was played live for the first time in 1989 and has been played three hundred and four more times in the one thousand, seven-hundred and fifty-one shows the band has played since. There also a studio recording of it on Lawn Boy, which I always forget because who the fuck listens to Lawn Boy?! The song is used frequently, but not always, as a jam vehicle, and I tend to enjoy hearing it live due to its quintessentially Phish-y sound: Phish writes and plays songs that sound a lot like many of their influences, but they also have songs that sound only like Phish, and this is one of them. Well, it sounds like Phish and Gerswhin, I suppose. "Bathtub Gin" is also my wife's favorite Phish song, but I'm not entirely sure if that's because she likes it or because she knows that liking "Waste" or "Shade" or "Farmhouse" more would put her firmly in the "Stereotypical Phish Wife" realm.

This 12/28 version of the tune is a great one for jamming, but as usual I'll (mostly) refrain from commenting until the point in the video where the composed portion of the song leaves off and the improvisation begins.

I do want to start by saying I love the retro feel of this year's "Live Phish" intro/logo sequence. Also, yes, Page's opening keyboard banging is supposed to sound like that. It's how he lets you know he's having fun! Gershwin tease at 2:26 if you're keeping track. Otherwise, this is a pretty straightforward reading of the composed part of the song. I absolutely love the sound mix here, as you can hear all four members' contributions to the song more or less equally. It blows the old days of tapes essentially mixed to make Trey's guitar 80% of the band's sound out of the water. It also leads to me basically just listening to Mike Gordon play bass for the entire show because if you can, why wouldn't you?!

It often sounds like the band might be singing actual, English lyrics during the outro portion of the song, but I don't think they ever are.

The jam starts at 4:50, and basically immediately Fishman is playing stuff on the drums that my simple brain can barely comprehend. This is perhaps one significant difference between Phish and the Goose jams I've been covering previously: the rhythm section of Phish is much more directly involved in the direction of the band's improvisation, whereas it often feels like the drums and bass of Goose are just laying a foundation for the melody players to improvise over. One is not inherently better than the other, but I do often feel like there's a lot more to listen to with Phish, despite them having fewer members.

Anyway, this first chunk of the jam feels a lot to me like being lost in a fuzzy, pleasant labyrinth: the tempo is slow and the playing is soft, but there's an undercurrent of tension there. By 5:30, things have started to straighten out a little, though the lights have gotten absolutely weird. Fishman starts playing a more straightforward beat, and the rest of the band falls into a rock-sounding jam that makes me think of what Goose might sound like if their fingers were thirty years older.

Trey starts to sit back a little bit at 6:45, and the jam mellows out in response. It feels a little bit like he can't figure out where he wants to go next here, but Mike and Page take some turns adding ideas to the mix in the meantime. Eventually, Trey joins back in the fun, but still in a restrained way. For awhile here, everyone's just sort of playing together, with no particular standout or soloist, which is great.

Whatever keyboard tone Page switches to at 8:58 is fantastic. He follows it up pretty quickly with some weirder synthesizer stuff, and at 9:40 this pushes the jam in a more sinister direction. At 10:20, Trey switches over to a very Portal To Robot Hell guitar effect, and now we're in full-on latter-day Evil Phish jamming territory. Fishman is, of course, keeping a beat here, but it's odd and off-kilter (not a drummer, sorry to be imprecise) and makes the whole thing feel like it's just barely hanging together in the best way.

This kind of "almost-falling-apart" sound is, paradoxically, when Phish often hits their stride in jamming. I think it's what makes them sort of a love/hate proposition even among people who listen to a lot of improvisatory rock music. It's not particularly fun or comfortable, but I've never come across another group of musicians that can improvise with each other consistently in this way.

Trey's playing finally comes a bit to the fore starting at 13:00, but even here this doesn't feel like a rote jam "peak": instead, the backbeat that Fishman is playing keeps things feeling a little out of sorts and not entirely resolved. Trey and Page playing off of each other at 14:15 is nice. I'm not sure what's going on with the lights at 14:30, but I do know these guys consistently have my favorite light show in show business. There's some almost Allman Bros-sounding playing from Trey at 15:15 as we reaching peak craziness...

...then some initial teasing of the "Bathtub Gin" theme at 16:30 or so, teasing a return to the song proper to wrap things up!

The video fades out on a segue into what would turn out to be an excellent version of "Ghost," for those keeping score at home.

Anyway, thanks for reading my first (at least lately) Phish write-up. I'm going to try to do a few more of these from the run, including (I think) two new songs: "Oblivion" from 12/29 and "Life Saving Gun" from 12/30. Should have those up soon!

[mymonkeysmycircusx3]

How

Inevitably, when you tell strangers that you are obese (335lbs) and trying to lose weight, the question you get the most is HOW? How did you "allow" yourself to get so big and get into this predicament in the first place?

I was not overweight my whole life. All through elementary and high school I had an "athletic" build. I was a cheerleader, played tennis, got to brown belt in martial arts, loved hiking and swam like a fish....correction...mermaid. I did always have a larger, rounder, "apple bottom" that got me made fun of a lot, but I couldn't help that my spine curves out at the bottom. It's not something you can control, but again, I wasn't overweight in any way. I was 125 soaking wet. Maybe.

I did gain 25lbs through four years of college. I was still active, so I didn't know what was going on. Then I was diagnosed with PCOS and had a cyst that completely covered my right ovary removed. I was told that my hormone imbalance was causing the weight gain.

While about 30lbs overweight, I got pregnant with my oldest. I only gained about 17lbs during that pregnancy and lost it all plus about another 10 afterwards. I was so happy! Then something happened and I started gaining at an alarming weight. I went to the doctor repeatedly, begging for help, and kept being told I just needed to be stricter about what I was eating and that I just needed to diet. I wasn't overeating, though, and they wouldn't listen to me. I gained 125lbs in that ONE year after giving birth. I ate less and less...sometimes only 1,000 calories a day and STILL gained weight and doctors STILL kept telling me to just diet. Sure, they did bloodwork, but insisted it was normal.

Nine years....NINE YEARS....I begged doctors to help. I sat on tables and bawled my eyes out because I absolutely wasn't losing weight no matter what I did AND my arms seemed disproportionately bigger than the rest of me and I hated it. I wasn't gaining any more weight. I just couldn't LOSE it. In this time I also had a bilateral mastectomy and my lymph nodes were damaged on my right side, so I was also dealing with lymphedema.

At this point, I don't even recognize who I am anymore. I hate clothes. I'm just existing. I switched doctors AGAIN, praying for help, and help came. THIS doctor did more than just TSH bloodwork and found that my thyroid was messed up. She noted that my thyroid numbers had been climbing over the years and if anyone would have actually looked at the trend and not just the immediate number, they would have picked up on it. If they had tested anything other than JUST TSH, they would have realized it. She also noted that my BP was always normal before giving birth and had been consistently high ever since. She said I most likely had postpartum hypothyroidism that got worse instead of resolving and postpartum hypertension. She also did an ultrasound on my ovaries, knowing that I have PCOS and found that my left ovary was riddled with cysts, but my right ovary was quite literally twice the size of my left because of the amount of cysts. She said my body had been fighting a hormonal perfect storm. I was started on thyroid meds and lo and behold, within 6 months I had lost 60lbs!!

Then I got pregnant with my twins. Again, I only gained 15lbs. I could barely eat because of their positioning. My doctor doubled my thyroid meds just to offset, knowing how my body is. I had the twins, lost the weight and an additional 15 and then......gained it all plus an additional 30 as my thyroid stopped working AGAIN.

During ALLLLL of this, I'd been having trouble with my back and legs that I'd been consistently being seen about. They weren't finding anything that was causing the pain and kept blaming weight gain. They would acknowledge that my SED rate and CRP were quite high, but insisted they couldn't find a cause. It wasn't until I lost full control of my legs and collapsed and was injured....12 years after my first concerns were raised, that they started REALLY trying to figure it out. Meanwhile, the amount of pain just walking to the bathroom or kitchen is excruciating and my legs were going paralyzed and I was falling constantly. Not being able to be as mobile, I gained about another 20. I now know that I have arachnoiditis (stage 4) and ankylosing spondylitis. I have a wheelchair for when I do activities outside of the house and I made the choice to go with a manual wheelchair so that I could build up my arm strength and still be active.

I was also recently diagnosed with lipedema, so that was just the icing on the cake.

The most annoying part of all of this is that I've met with nutritionists, I've met with bariatric weight loss doctors, and I've done the food journals and everything asked. They all say I'm doing it right. My calories range from 900 to 1800 a day. For someone my weight, they usually start them on diets of 400 calories higher than I take in to start losing weight, but I'm not losing anything.

I've been told that my best bet will be bariatric surgery to restart my system completely and that I will need liposuction for the lipedema as well if I want to lose weight. I also have really bad diastasis recti from the twins. I've been told that I might be able to close some of it, but mine is pretty significant and will also require surgery. Of course, I'm going to have a TON of extra skin, so that's going to have to be something considered later on as well. It's going to cost me a small fortune (because my insurance doesn't even cover it for medical reasons) to get to a point that I feel comfortable in my body and some people might ask if it's even worth it at 42 years old. The answer is YES. Yes, it absolutely is. I have a LOT of life to live and I refuse to give up.

Have a wonderful day and stay blessed.

[chanstopher]

Holy shit I just watched the first episode of tlou. It was EVERYTHING I wanted and hoped and prayed for it to be! Literally every character so far is casted SO perfectly, I cannot get over it. The sets they built, the way it's filmed, the tone and colours of everything, it's all just so spot on. When the intro came on and every time those guitar riffs from the game got played I got chills all over my body. Of course there are minor changes to how the story unfolds and some added scenes but it all matches and makes sense for a TV show that people who are unfamiliar with the game can also enjoy. But still all the important plot points are true to the game. It makes me so excited to watch because I think this series will achieve what all of us want it to. Also everytime they include dialogue or scenes directly from the game it sends me spinning into orbit. "Your watch is broken" alone had me ready to bawl my eyes out. And when Marlene said to Joel "don't fuck this up...please" everything that was about to happen flashed in my mind and it honestly fucked me up. I cannot wait for the next episode!!

omg yesss s everything you said!!! it’s so perfect. i have never been so absorbed into an episode of tv so fast, the second those guys came on talking about fungus infection i was like ok yes yea i’m so in and i did not move til the episode ended. literally best episode of tv i have ever seen, i’ve already rewatched it twice since im sick, and i just cannot get over how well done it is down to the smallest detail. im trying not to have the HIGHEST hopes for how good the show is going to be but the first episode being THAT amazing has me so excited for just how great its going to be