#the bald one gets a special little sweater

[multifandom-brainrot]

Let it be known... These are technically canon to the T-Zed universe. I made sketches of various fur lengths (excluding standard)

(i just realized the shaved one almost looks like the blue one from the sheriff drawing, i swear it was just a coincidence SHJFHJE)

[reincrimination]

stay the course: ch. 1 | buddie

9-1-1 | eddie diaz x evan buckley

a buddie equestrian AU

cw: none!

you are here! -> chapter 2

read on archive of our own!

“That was Taylor Kelly and Smile for the Camera given the all-clear by the vets,” says the announcer, a thick British accent immediately distinguishable. “Next up is- well, I’d say infamous, but that would imply that people like him. Next up is Evan Buckley- or Buck, as he requests we all call him- and his French-bred mount Saint Francis.” Eddie finally feels a little less stranded when he sees the similarly-young face of- uh, Buck?- jog down the path. Clad in gray plaid pants and a black sweater, the young man looks like a panther next to his tall, lanky white horse. The black of the horse’s bridle is the only thing that matches Buck, the rest a stark contrast. Buck may be under-dressed by comparison to the other riders, but the gleaming white-grey of his horse’s coat is near blinding. Its’ mane is tacked up into bobbles atop its neck, so tight they look like they hurt, and its tail is whiter than chalk and flouncing like a waterfall as they parade down the path. Eddie knows nothing about horses but he can tell that this is a proud one by the way he picks up his knees and flags his tail at the end of his jog.

Eddie knows why his father wanted to get into the equestrian world- fame. Everything Ramon Diaz does is for fame, after all, but Eddie had clearly missed the memo on just how pompous the higher levels of the equestrian world was. Though, Eddie had missed the memo on just about everything equestrian, not even having ever seen a horse beyond trips to the racetrack with his father in years prior. His father’s tastes had evolved from betting on racehorses, and now, a decade and Eddie’s own failed marriage later, he’s accompanying his father on a cross-continential trip to the 2024 Badminton Horse Trials in London, England.

Although the one-on-one time with his father should be enough to make Eddie want to pull his hair out (but not too much, lest the press catch wind of a bald spot), he would have been ridiculous to pass up an all-expenses paid trip to the Badminton trials as a VIP spectator. At least, that’s what he tells himself, which is easier than admitting the fact that he really did not have a choice in whether or not he attended.

Since his divorce, he had moved back in with his family for the sake of his son, Chris, who he has full custody of. As much as he loves his son, he can’t raise him on his own, especially since he had been working as a firefighter prior to the divorce. He had carved out a life for himself, far away from his father, where the only things that mattered were his son, his wife, and his job, in that order, too. However, with Shannon in the wind, Eddie had to put his own wants on hold (as always) and realize that being a single father in Los Angeles with a special needs son was not plausible, even on a firefighter’s not-scanty salary.

So, he’d eaten his pride and obliged his father’s request for him and Christopher to move back in with their family in El Paso, Texas. It had only been a few weeks since they’d been back, and Eddie was- well, he wasn’t really sure what was next. His father was supporting him and Chris financially, so he had time to figure out what he wanted to do. However, that meant he owed a substantial debt to his father- figuratively, of course, as he could never financially repay any sum considering he is now unemployed- and so what his father says tends to go, now. That’s how Eddie had found himself saying farewell to Christopher, set up for a week at his Abuela’s house, and getting on a flight to London.

Regardless, he had touched down in London some hours ago, and now he is nursing an icy cold mixed drink in one hand while he stares down a packed dirt fence lined with white fences and elaborate floral arrangements. On one side, the sandy expense of the show jumping arena stretches, untrodden thus far and glistening in the rare England sunlight. On the other side of the path, rows of spectators and press line the plastic blue chairs for as far as Eddie can see.

A perk of his father’s status as an owner of one of the competing horses means that Eddie, too, is afforded VIP status, and as such, stands just behind one of those white fences, with an uninterrupted view of the dirt path. Towards the other set of spectator bleachers, the announcer’s box and the in-gate lie, whereabouts tens of pairs of horses and handlers are milling.

Now, if Eddie had thought his father wearing a three-piece name-brand suit to the- what’s it called again? The inspection?- was excessive, then he really needed to keep his mouth shut about the others here. There was not a pair of were in sight, and each handler’s outfit was at least as expensive as their horse, and they are not cheap horses. 

The hum of conversation is loud, the excitable energy high in the air as the announcer begins his commentary of what he began to call “the jog”. 

Eddie quickly realizes why it is called “the jog” when a horse-and-handler pair does just that, along the entire length of the packed dirt track, leaving the first of at least fifty pairs of hoofprints that the soil would see today.

Eddie barely knows where to look, so far out of his depth he may as well be swimming in the ocean during a storm. Is he supposed to know who the brunette woman is, running alongside an absolutely giant brown horse? The horse has an attitude, Eddie notices, as it tosses its large head in excitement as its handler leads it off the end of the path at the conclusion of their jog.

His father nudges him in the upper arm, jostling his sweating drink and almost sending the caramel droplets onto his cream sweater, a mistake that would be problematic for such a highly-publicized event. As Eddie leans in to hear whatever his father had to say, he makes eye contact with a camera that’s panning the length of the arena. Despite having grown up in the spotlight, Eddie had never quite gotten used to the cold, gaping eye of a camera lens.

“There they are,” the elder Diaz says, before beginning to clap loudly for the next pair heading down the path.

A lighter, richer-colored brown horse and a red-headed woman make their way down the path. The woman is wearing a red pantsuit that Eddie thinks could cover all of Chris’s college tuition. “Taylor Kelly,” Ramon says. “Remember that name. She’s ours.”

Ah. The whole reason Eddie and his father are in London to begin with: his father had used his seemingly-endlessly-multiplying millions to sponsor a horse and rider team. The sponsorship was apparently a big deal, as Kelly usually rides for herself and team USA, not needing a sponsor, but the undisclosed sum that Eddie’s father had negotiated with her family had been enough to get a pin of the Diaz company logo onto the lapel of her expensive suit. Now, Taylor Kelly was riding for the Diazes as much as they are riding for team USA, though the elder Diaz would consider them to be one and the same.

The hand not being used to hold Eddie’s drink is suddenly grasped by his father’s cold fingers, and a black ear-piece is pressed into his palm. He wiggles it into his ear and it crackles to life, the previously muffled voice of the announcer now coming through loud and clear as the next pair approach the path.

“That was Taylor Kelly and Smile for the Camera given the all-clear by the vets,” says the announcer, a thick British accent immediately distinguishable. “Next up is- well, I’d say infamous, but that would imply that people like him. Next up is Evan Buckley- or Buck, as he requests we all call him- and his French-bred mount Saint Francis.”

Eddie finally feels a little less stranded when he sees the similarly-young face of- uh, Buck?- jog down the path. Clad in gray plaid pants and a black sweater, the young man looks like a panther next to his tall, lanky white horse. The black of the horse’s bridle is the only thing that matches Buck, the rest a stark contrast. 

Buck may be under-dressed by comparison to the other riders, but the gleaming white-grey of his horse’s coat is near blinding. Its’ mane is tacked up into bobbles atop its neck, so tight they look like they hurt, and its tail is whiter than chalk and flouncing like a waterfall as they parade down the path. Eddie knows nothing about horses but he can tell that this is a proud one by the way he picks up his knees and flags his tail at the end of his jog. 

Before he and Buck exit the path, the horse nudges Buck’s shoulder with his pink and white nose. Buck gives his companion a rueful smile in response, but thats all. He seems a bit subdued compared to the other handlers, less comfortable on camera, maybe- which Eddie could definitely relate to. 

“I can’t say it’s unusual for the horse to outdo the rider in terms of notability, but normally it’s a closer competition than it is here. Regardless, Buck and Saint Florian are clear for the Badminton trials.” They’re graced with a courteous bit of scattered applause, before they brush right past the Diazes and emerge out into the arena, where horses, riders, and grooms of all countries seem to be mingling. Eddie watches Buck go, the blonde hair atop his head an unusual sight compared to a sea of brunette, gray, or raven-haired riders- not counting Taylor Kelly’s bright red hair, which was also an outlier.

As Eddie watches, a pair of brown horses nudge at each other’s withers in what seems to be a friendly manner, considering how their owners gush, and someone snaps a photo.

“Disgrace he is, that ‘Buck’ boy,” Ramon tsks, leaving Eddie no time to ask questions before the announcer booms out the names of the next pair. Freddie Costas and his horse Rigged to Blow make their way through the jog. “Now that’s a fine looking rider, is he not?”

Clad in a dark green coat and white pants, the rider makes his way out into the arena with an all-clear from the vets, as well. While most other riders are still mingling with other members of their team, Eddie can’t help but notice how Buck does not mingle, but rather, has begun to make his way out of sight and back to what Eddie assumes would be the stables. Eddie turns around enough to watch the boy recede, his white horse walking gracefully beside him. However, before he ducks out of view, Freddie Costas catches up, and the pair exchange an amicable handshake before they both depart.

Ramon and the announcer both seem to be a bit less fond of Buck than Eddie finds himself beginning to be. Why he’s taken a liking to the boy after a five minute appearance is a mystery, and, he realizes, probably just another unconscious rebellion against his father. Despite that, at the end of the arduously-long inspection of eighty-seven horses, Eddie has to admit that Buck is still his favorite of the group.

That admission earns a hearty chuckle from his father, and a firm clap on the back that is as much a warning as it is a fatherly gesture for the cameras. “Funny one, you are,” Ramon grits out, before giving a friendly wave to the sea of reporters and ushering Eddie in their direction.

Like a good son, Eddie stands stoic and handsome for the cameras, flashing a smile at whatever reporter snaps a photo of him and his famous father together. His hand is damp from the condensation of his drink, and when the cameras aren’t looking, he quickly downs the rest of it before handing the cup to a waiter who was weaving through the crowd with a tray balanced on one hand.

The sun is just about heading for the horizon, the tops of trees and hills visible over the edge of the tall rows of bleachers. An orange glow was beginning to bathe the arena, and photographers took advantage of the lighting to snap some more photos of the horses and riders. While his father talks to a reporter from Horse & Country about his hopes for Taylor Kelly this week, Eddie lets his eyes drift over the crowd. It’s slowly dispersing as the post-jog interviews conclude, most of the big names from Britain, the USA, Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands having already left. The other countries seem to have fewer spectators in London this week. As Eddie watches, a pair of British riders take their horses down towards the stables to the tune of enthusiastic applause from the strong local contingent here at Badminton.

Team USA seems to have gathered in the arena for a photo opportunity, and some words with reporters, but that blonde hair Eddie is looking for is absent. He’s so engrossed in the search, watching who he thinks is a groom quickly fix the braids of one of the horses, that he startles when his father pats him on the shoulder.

“Come on, I have someone for you to say hello to,” his father says with a nod. Eddie steels himself, straightening his posture as he and his father pick their way through the crowd and out towards the expansive area of the in-gate.

Eddie smiles when he sees who, exactly, his father was taking him to see. The Hans, a respectable looking family who look very comfortable amidst the horses passing on either side of them, spot the Diazes and wave. He and the Hans’ son, a slightly older man who goes by Chimney, had been childhood friends. They had spent many an afternoon sat on a boring golf course with Chim, talking about everything other than what their families had been up to while their fathers had golfed together.

Chimney looks relieved to see Eddie as well, sporting a grin as he extends a hand to him. Eddie takes his hand for a brief, formal shake before using it to pull Chim into a hug, clapping him on the back as the other man laughs.

“So glad to see you,” Eddie says, and to his father it sounds like a regular greeting, but Chimney knows that it’s more of a “Thank God you’re here”. The other man gets the message and gives Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze before they separate.

Eddie gives both of Chimney’s parents a handshake and an awkward nod before his father claps his hands proudly and announces, “We’ll be joining the Hans for dinner with their rider tonight.”

“Your rider?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, looking to Chim for confirmation, who wiggles his own brows in excitement.

“Oh, I think you’ll like him.”

[unaballerinascalza]

HOUSE, M.D. CHARACTERS AS HALLOWEEN COSTUMES AND IDGAF THAT IT'S NOT EVEN SEPTEMBER YET

House: Daddy Dracula (told everyone to add the first word when they're referring to him – if they don't, they get 🔥Cane To The Ankles🔥) OR, HEAR ME OUT, Edward Scissorhands (but only if he's high on vicodin)

Cuddy: I mean. Come on. Sexy nurse/mad doctor every day babyyyy (also enough Boob, intentionally or not, to make House refer to her as daddy)

Wilson: he'd try to get some scary costume off of amazon, give the fuck up, and come in with a picture of pumpkin spice taped to a sweater, calling himself a Spice Girl

Foreman: do you think this stoic ass dude would put effort into anything? No. So no costume at all or a plain suit, defending it as being one of the men in black (and then he'd immediately regret it because House would ✨Coincidentally✨ connect his costume choice to his race)

Chase: Princess Diana. Period. Or weird barbie if he's a little loopy at that point

Cameron: she would try to get something cute, but Chase would convince her to dress a little scarier and Halloween-ier, so she'd come in as a witch

Taub: idk why but Zorro (but if his wife is invited too, they'd be the Addamses) (and House would Accidentally decide to ask him why he's not dressed as [redacted for antisemitism])

Thirteen: first of all, MA'AM- There's no costume as hot as her. If she didn't plan on getting wasted, she'd be Maleficent. If she did, it'd either be a cute and hot devil or she'd join in with the Taubs as Wednesday

Kutner: if he weren't dead, he'd be Pennywise or throw on his extra special Halloween skeleton pjs. Since he is dead, it is safe to assume that he'd technically be either a zombie, a ghost, or an Indian Jesus

Notable mentions:

If House was in his seeing Amber phase during Halloween, there would be no doubts from my side that he'd come in as Cruella de Vil

If anyone from the team for some reason would be bald, the costume's either Eminem or Voldemort. One or the other

Also, someone should dress as lupus, since It Is Never Lupus

And if Chase grew his hair out, Cameron would convince him to go as Jesus #2, after Kutner

Although Thirteen could go dressed as a devil, no one else gets the pass. Angel/devil shit is tacky, fight me on that

And for the final note. Is there a pic on the internet somewhere of Olivia Wilde dressed as Princess Leia or am I in complete delulu??

[myperfectdad]

19. My two dads

Hey, I know you were expecting to see Jay. After all, he's the one you've been chatting with, and he's the one you made plans to meet today. But before you go out for your date, I want to take a minute to get to know you. I'm his dad, and I like to know a little bit about the guys who date my Son. Jay is a special young man and he deserves only the best in a boyfriend.

Have a seat on the sofa. Yeah, right there. I'll sit right next to you. You seem like a nice enough guy. You're Jay's type. So, man, where are you taking him on your date?

Nice choice, my friend. He likes that place. Is that what you're planning to wear? It's just that My Son likes his boyfriends to put a little more effort into their appearance. My Son is a special young man, and to be honest, you look a little too casual to go out on a date with him. I think I've got a sweater vest you can borrow.

Yeah, man. Throw that sweater vest on. Much better! Looks good on you. We ought to talk about your hair, too. My Son likes his boyfriends bald. We can swing by our barber and get you nice and shaved. Have him take care of that mustache, too.

One more thing, man. And it's kind of important. I know you and Jay have been chatting about dating, but I've got to break some news to you. Jay isn't looking for a boyfriend. He's looking for a dad. Yeah, another dad.

You want to be my Son's handsome, obedient second dad? There's plenty of room in the house for another dad, as long as you don't mind pulling your weight around here. Our Son keeps us busy with chores.

Oh, hey, Son! You're back early. Yup, just chatting with Dad #2 here, waiting for you to come home so your old dads could get dinner started.

[aggimaginary]

The Bad Guys (my version) - Goodness Exercises (chapter 5)

First Previous Next

Please enjoy this new chapter!

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The next day, over at a large, beautiful compound on a grassy green hill near the street, Marmalade was getting ready for his first "good lesson" teaching for the Bad Guys to help them learn how to be good.

Inside the compound, the guinea pig's humming could be heard alongside some beautiful piano playing as the first scene shows a statue of Marmalade, who appeared to be completely nude, except for a three-leaf clover covering his "special area" and was holding up the Love Crater meteorite with one arm, made completely out of stellar marble.

In another room, a tall, bald man with very little brown hair that stuck out to the sides, with sunglasses over his eyes, who wore a red turtleneck sweater and a white suit jacket over it, and a little red doorman's hat on his head, was helping Marmalade prepare for the arrival of his "students." The human helping him fluffed Marmalade's hair, placed a shiny ring with a green emerald on his finger, and made sure there was no dust on his sleeves.

Then, he slowly used his fingers to massage Marmalade's shoulders gently. While this went on, Marmalade heard his doorbell ring, making the guinea pig smile, and said, "Oh, goody," he hopped down from his stand and headed to the door, with the human following him.

Outside, the Bad Guys were climbing up the steps and arriving inside the compound, marveling over how fancy the place was.

"Wow," Wolf whispered

"Big and fancy," added Tarantula in awe.

"Rodent's got taste! Okay," commented Shark excitedly

"Huh. Almost makes me want to be cute," mentioned Snake, who secretly held in the urge to facepalm from just saying that, despite how impressive the place looked.

Hornet was also looking around the place, but, unlike his friends, he wasn't impressed by all of this, "Eh, it's fine, I guess."

The Bad Guys were entering a room surrounded by a lot of beautiful plants that were growing around a large podium where the statue was.

Suddenly, they heard a voice saying, "They say experience is the best teacher. And they are wrong."

The Bad Guys looked around, wondering where the voice came from, before they turned around and saw Professor Marmalade, and the human, standing next to the statue, with the guinea pig adding, "I am. Good morning, students of goodness, and welcome to the first day of the rest of your best life!"

Piranha then looked up and saw something that made him smile, as he exclaimed while pointing and jumping up and down, "A giant butt!"

All of the other Bad Guys looked up, in surprise, at the statue of Marmalade holding the Love Crater Meteorite.

Marmalade himself also looked up at his statue as he answered with a chuckle, "Uh, it's-it's not a butt. It's a lamp."

To demonstrate it was a lamp, he clapped his hands twice, making the lamp turn on and light shine out from the holes on the lamp, while he added, "In the shape of the Love Crater Meteorite, my greatest…

However, Piranha, being hilariously, and adorably clueless, asked while scratching the back of his head, "I wonder whose butt it is."

Shark gasped in surprise at the statement while Wolf felt a little nervous, wanting to step in and try to explain to Piranha that it was NOT a butt, before anything got out of hand. Even though everyone wasn't comfortable with Piranha's curiosity and pointing out the heart-shaped-meteorite lamp was about, Hornet started to have a sense of humor about this as he tried to keep his mouth shut and hold his laughter in his throat. He thought Piranha's lack of common sense was funny.

Marmalade, keeping calm and poised, replied, "Once again, it's not a butt, thank you," He clapped his hands again to turn the lamp off, "It's a heart. Now, as I was saying…"

Then, Piranha interrupted again, "Then why does it have cheeks!"

Wolf, Snake, Shark, and Tarantula shushed Piranha, trying to get him to be quiet with Shark whispered, "Shut it!"

But Hornet tried to turn his face away from the guys and Marmalade as he began to snicker, but he held his mouth with his hand, holding his laughter as he could.

Piranha, still clueless, mentioned, "What? I've never seen a heart with cheeks!"

Once again, Hornet couldn't hold his laughter as he chuckled through his hand.

Marmalade tried to keep calm, "It's not a…"

However, once again, Piranha interrupted, "Booty!"

Because of his best friend's gag like this, Hornet let out a small laugh, "Ha!" He covered his mouth again. He hoped no one heard him laughing.

Frustrated, Marmalade then declared at the top of his lungs while jumping up and down, "It's not a butt! Not a butt!"

The Bad Guys were surprised to see Marmalade acting out, while Piranha whispered to the rest of the team, "Does he know what a butt is?"

Without anymore noticing him, Hornet rolled his eyes, and facepalmed, but he enjoyed laughing at his best friend's dumbness.

Not wanting to cause a scene, Marmalade calmed down, cleared his throat, and started to state, "As I was saying, on the outside, the six of you are villains, predators, remorseless sociopaths."

Shark, thinking that it was a compliment, smiled and blushed a bit while fiddling with his hands, "Oh, stop. You're making me blush."

Marmalade then continued with, "But inside, there's a flower…the flower of goodness… and when it blooms, and you feel that tingle of positivity radiating through your body, you're going to want to feel it all the time."

While Marmalade gave his little speech, Wolf thought back to that moment in the gala when he felt that tingle, and felt his tail wagging. He even looked back at his tail, wondering if it was possible to feel it again. But Hornet had thought otherwise. He had his own thoughts about the "flower of goodness". He has his arms crossed and narrowed his eyes in a glare. He didn't believe this so-called "flower of goodness" would give them that stupid tingle. Hornet believed goodness would never give him that tingle that Marmalade mentioned. He already felt that tingle before, and that was doing bad stuff and crimes with his best friends.

Meanwhile, Tarantula asked, out of confusion, "So we're going for a tingle?"

Marmalade answered, "Not any tingle, the tingle of goodness, which you'll feel in my state-of-the-art Sharing Laboratory!"

His "laboratory" was actually another room upstairs with a small table and two chairs, set up on a rug in front of a pair of clear, glistening, sliding glass doors that were currently opened and led to an area outside that was a beautiful sandy beach.

The Bad Guys came up the stairs and entered the area, feeling confused about how this was gonna work.

Marmalade then looked up to Mr. Hornet, "Now, Mr. Hornet, why don't you go first, and show us what sharing is all about?"

After listening to Marmalade, Hornet stared at the table for a minute, his eyes started to gleam in fear as this Sharing Laboratory reminded him of his secret past. It was too much for him to volunteer this sharing idea. He needed to find a way out of it. He quickly looked around to find something to escape this. He then saw a garbage can nearby.

Hornet smirked as he had an idea, then he looked down to Marmalade, "Sure. No can do. I just have to go there to get ready."

While the others were watching Hornet flying away, they decided to let him be without looking at him.

Wolf arched his brow as he commented, "Hornet seems… confident about this."

"Yeah," Piranha agreed to this, "Does he know about sharing or…?"

Suddenly, the Bad Guys and Marmalade heard a groaning scream. They turned around to see where it came from.

They noticed Hornet crawling on the floor with his face all green, and covered his mouth, almost about to puke, "Woe is me!"

Wolf, Piranha and Tarantula rounded up Hornet as Piranha picked him up, "What happened, buddy?"

"Yeah, you were all good, and now you're so…" Tarantula crawled up to Piranha to take a good look on Hornet, "…green"

"Uh… I was eating something, and then… this happened," Hornet answered while still holding his mouth.

*Flashback*

While his friends and Marmalade weren't looking at him, Hornet dug up the trash to find something so he could escape this "experiment". Then, he noticed a rotten half-eaten apple. If he eats this, he will be poisoned, and he wouldn't let him to the sharing experiment.

Though this is risky for Hornet. He didn't like filthy rotten food nor getting food poisoning, but what other choices did he have? Hornet grabbed the stinky rotten apple, but he looked away with it. He slowly opened his mouth and was ready to take a bite.

*End of flashback*

Hornet knew this was a bad idea for him to escape this first experiment, but he hoped it would be worth it. He didn't feel so good.

Marmalade looked at Hornet, and thought it would be impossible for the bug to do the sharing with his condition, "Hmm, I think you deserve some rest, Mr. Hornet. Here," he took out a small pill from his pocket, "This will make you feel better."

When Hornet reached for the pill, he looked at it, and answered, "Wow, thanks." Though he appreciated Marmalade's gesture, he still didn't like to accept that kind of kindness from him. Hornet was sure that guinea is going to take his friends away from him by goodness.

Since Hornet couldn't do this sharing experiment, Marmalade had to find another member of the Bad Guys. He approached Mr. Snake, and said, "Okay, Mr. Snake, since Mr. Hornet can't do this experiment, you're going to do it. I'm going to give you a Push Pop," he pulled out a delicious Push Pop from behind his back.

Snake eagerly grabbed it with his tail, "Great! Push Pop just for me," he opened his mouth, set to eat it right away.

However, Marmalade stopped him, and told Snake, "No, to share."

Snake stopped and looked at Marmalade with disinterest, asking bluntly, "Why?"

Marmalade explained, "Well, on a fundamental level, it's about putting someone else's needs ahead of your own," he pointed Shark, who was sitting at the table in one of the chairs, grinning smugly knowing that Snake was gonna have to share that Push Pop with him for once.

Snake was dumbfounded, and said in resistance, "Oh, no. No way."

"Snake," A matching glare from Wolf reminded the reptilian member that this was needed in order to "go good" whether he liked it or not.

So, Snake sighed in defeat, and groaned, "All right, all right," he slithered over to the table, sitting in the other chair with his head hung low.

While the rest of the Bad Guys sat down to watch, Hornet, who was slowly cured from his food poisoning by drinking the pill, took out a tray of cookies… out of nowhere, "Hey guys, do you want some cookies?"

Wolf was surprised by this gesture as he replied, "Oh, don't mind if I do." The cookies were too small for Wolf, but he could take one. Piranha and Tarantula took one each from the tray. There were only 4 remaining cookies on the tray.

Meanwhile, Shark was feeling giddy, tapping the table with his hands and gripping the sides of it, "This is going to taste extra sweet, 'cause I know how bad you want it."

Snake groaned while he shakily extended his tail out, trying to "share" the Push Pop with Shark, who smiled and said, "Pop me, please. Ah…" he opened his mouth, awaiting the arrival of the taste of that sweet frozen delight.

Snake was sweating frustration and nervousness as the Push Pop almost made it into Shark's mouth…. until Snake shouted, "Nope!" he plopped the whole thing into his mouth, much to a dismayed Shark's shock, as Snake simply replied, "Sucker."

However, Shark got mad, real fast, and stood up from his seat as he shouted "That's it!" He gripped snake by his neck and shouted more, "I'll teach you to share," he stuffed Snake into his mouth, swallowing him, much to the gasp and shock of the rest of the Bad Guys with Hornet dropping his tray of cookies, who looked at Shark in surprise.

Shark simply sat back down and replied while rubbing his belly, "Mm, I like sharing. It's yummy, mmm."

Snake's voice could be heard echoing from inside Shark as the reptile replied, "Totally worth it."

Marmalade was flat out terrified/horrified of what had taken place, "Well, that's terrifying. Let's try something simpler."

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Outside of the compound, by the street at a crosswalk, Marmalade instructed, "A good person always pays attention to the needs of others." He then pointed to something, and said, "Now, here's a kindly, frail grandma."

The "grandma" was actually Wolf wearing a gray sweater with a white cuff and a blue tie, a dark gray skirt, and a light blue bonnet hat with a blue bow on it, and little reading glasses that hung from his snout.

The rest of the team was having a very good time laughing about how ridiculous Wolf looked, much to Wolf's chagrin.

Marmalade then approached below Hornet, "Mr. Hornet, what about you? Could you try to help grandma cross the street?"

Here it is again. Marmalade was still wanting Hornet to do this good experiment, but the latter still didn't want to do it. Helping others, even old strangers, was the last thing he wanted to do in his life. He needed to get out of this again, but how?

Then, Hornet noticed his normal antenna. It was long and pointy enough to reach his eyes. If his antenna pins his eye, then he won't be able to see to help a grandma cross the street, and he'll be out of this experiment in no time!

"Oh, uh… okay, I can do that!" Hornet said in a happy tone. But when he fluttered towards Wolf, Hornet let his normal antenna hit his left eye, "Oow!"

"Hornet, what's wrong?" Piranha asked his best friend in concern.

Hornet turned around with his hand covering his left eye, "My eye, it hurts. I think my antenna hit it!"

Snake groaned disappointedly, "I told you to tie that antenna at the back."

Marmalade sighed trustingly. He knew that Hornet couldn't help the "grandma" cross the street with his one eye temporarily blind, so the guinea needed to find another Bad Guy to do this task. He approached Piranha, and inquired, "Mr. Piranha, help grandma across the street."

Piranha scoffed and replied while holding back his laughter, "Sure, sure, sure. I do this all the time."

While Piranha approached Wolf, Hornet then flew aside, fluttering besides Tarantula, who was on Shark's shoulder

He held "Grandma's" hand and said with a sly smile and a funny "Trying to sound nice" voice as Wolf, in granny character, pretended to have a back issue while walking on the crosswalk and letting Piranha "guide" him, "Here you go, ma'am."

The rest of the team were still laughing their heads off, thinking this was just gonna get even funnier.

Tarantula snickered, "Oh, he is totally gonna blow it."

"Aaww, Webs, don't say to him like that," Hornet cooed, trying to support Piranha while rubbing his closed eye.

However, what Tarantula did not think of was Piranha overhearing her comment and getting riled up about it, "What was that? What did you say?!" He let go of Wolf's hand and was storming over to her to give Tarantula a piece of his mind, "You think I can't do this?!"

Tarantula was laughing as a result while Wolf, panicking because he was worried that Piranha was gonna ruin the experiment. He tried to bring Piranha back, turning around and reaching to him, "No, no, no, Pira—!"

However, he didn't count on a truck coming down the road, and Wolf ended up getting hit so hard he got tossed up into the sky.

The rest of the team watched as the truck zoomed by before they looked up and watched Wolf, who screamed while falling, land on the sidewalk hard, making the team cringe in concern.

Marmalade was cringing too as he suggested, "Maybe simpler?"

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

Out in the backyard of the condo, there was a small palm tree growing by a big palm tree, and clinging onto the bark of the little palm tree was a tiny orange kitten, who meowed frantically, wanting to be rescued.

Wolf smiled and commented while gesturing to the cat, "Hey, look. It's a cat stuck in a tree."

Marmalade then explained while standing in front of the Bad Guys, "It doesn't get much simpler than that," Then, he asked, "Now, what in this scenario would give you that good tingle?

Snake answered, "Eating it? This is why I always carry two pieces of bread with me," he pulled out two pieces of bread with his tail.

Marmalade answered while trying to help lead the Bad Guys towards the right answer, "No. I want you to s…" while making an S sound, thinking the Bad Guys would catch on and say the right word.

One by one, each Bad Guy member said a random word that they thought was the right answer, with Wolf starting off by saying, "Smack it."

"Skin it," asked Snake.

"Stab it," commented Shark.

"Sauté it," suggested Tarantula.

"Sting it," added Hornet, pretending he didn't know the answer.

"Sing to it," asked Piranha innocently

Marmalade, out of frustration, answered, "Save it. I want you to sa…that's obv… It's so obvi… I want you to save it!"

The Bad Guys, pretending to have finally got it, said together in unison, "Oh,"

Snake mentioned, "Right, right."

Tarantula added, "Right, right, right. Sure."

Then, all the Bad Guys looked up and stretched their arms up, looking like they were gonna be friendly and help the kitty get down… before they gave their most intimidating faces and shouted in a scary/frightening voice in unison, "HERE, KITTY, KITTY, KITTY!"

The kitten was scared so badly, it ran up to the top of the tree and hid in the leaves, trembling in fear.

The Bad Guys, looking up, wondered what they were gonna do now, as Snake bluntly mentioned, "Whoa, that cat is obviously defective."

Piranha suddenly had a train of thought, and said in an almost scolding-like manner, "What is wrong with you? You're gonna give it a heart attack."

Wolf thought for a moment, then glanced at Hornet, eyeing for his rapid flapping wings, and said, "Hey, Hornet can fly. He can save the cat from the tree."

The other Bad Guys nodded in agreement.

But Hornet was unsure about this, "What? Me? I-I-I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can, Hornet," Shark smiled, "I mean, not only you can fly, I know you can carry that cat safely off the tree. Come on, I know you can do it," he gave his little bug friend a wink.

When his friends were waiting for him to make his move, Hornet looked up to the cat on the tree while gulping. Deep down, he felt pity for the cat. He wanted to save the little cat, but if he showed how much he cared for the cat like a good person, his friends will find out what he was before, and his worst fear will come true. He still needed to get out again, but he needed to be another excuse.

Hornet took a deep breath, and breathed out, "Okay… okay, I can do this… I can do this." He flew up on the tree towards the cat, who was scared to even face him. But Hornet had another plan to get out of this. He pretended to fly in swirls like he was in a doozy as he hit himself on the trunk of the tree.

"Ooof!" The Bad Guys and Marmalade cringed like they were feeling Hornet's pain.

Hornet then let himself fell off the tree trunk to the ground. When he hit the floor, he didn't feel any pain, but he had to keep on the act like he was in real pain to get out of this experiment of saving the cat. "OW! Woe is me!" He held one of his legs like it was broken, "My leg, it hurts!" Then, he caressed his upper right wing, "And my wing! I don't think I could fly right now! Ow! I mean, ow ow!"

Piranha felt concerned for his best friend the most as he held him into his fins, and stroked his head, "It's okay, Hornet," he then handed Hornet to Shark, and said "I'll handle this." He then walked up to the bark of the tree.

It looked like Piranha was gonna handle this in a sane and calm manner… but that is not what happened because he ended up leaping up to the top of the tree, who knows how, and screamed while showing an intimidating face, "WHAT'S UP, PAPA?!"

The cat got scared out of its wits and ended up leaping off the tree….and right onto Wolf's face, where the cat proceeded to scramble and scratch the wolf's face while Wolf howled out while in pain and ran back and forth, "Get him off my face! He's on my face!"

Marmalade grew frustrated again, "No, no, no, no, no, listen! Wh-What are you doing!?"

The cat yowled in fright and ran up the tree again as Wolf stood back up and recovered from the many scratches that tiny kitten gave him.

Marmalade took a minute to calm down again and asked, "Okay. What, may I ask, are you good at?

"Stealing stuff," commented Piranha while he shrugged.

Shark smiled and replied, "Oh, yeah, we're great at that!"

"Robbery," commented Snake.

"Larceny," listed Tarantula.

"Wire fraud," added Piranha while excitedly raising his hand.

"Fooling people," chuckled Hornet.

"Extortion," replied a grinning Snake.

"Tax evasion," mentioned Wolf with crossed arms.

"Heists," commented Shark.

"Mail fraud," added Tarantula.

Suddenly, one of those suggestions gave Marmalade a brilliant idea, making him ask, "Wait. Heists, you say?"

Wolf answered, on behalf of the team, "Well, that's… yeah, that's kind of our specialty."

Marmalade had a huge grin, "I might just have an idea.

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

I hope you like this new chapter. Hornet went through extreme measures to avoid "going good". Weird, huh? You'll see.

Special thanks to MasterClass60 for helping me make this chapter.

If you guys got a chance to give any feedback if you like this chapter so far, please like, reblog and comment, and thanks for reading.

First Previous Next

[the-bau-quinjet]

Nice to meet you, where you been?

Chapter 2 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Reader becomes acquainted with some members of the BAU.

Warnings: none that I can think of!

Word Count: ~1900

Penny came back out to the foyer, handing you the oversized t-shirt and shorts you left here last time you slept over. You pulled them on quickly, following Penny to the living room where you instantly realized, it was more than just you, Penny, and the tall man in the apartment. You stopped moving as you took in the additional new faces. You had never met Penny’s team before, but she had talked about them a ton. You blushed again thinking of how you must look a mess right now.

“Everyone, this is Y/N! She is my very best friend and she is very sad so we are going to cheer her up.” Penny started the introductions. “Y/N, this is Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau aka JJ, and Emily Prentiss.” You took in the names as Penny went around the room. Eyes bouncing between a very muscular bald man and two of the most attractive women you’ve ever seen. “Oh, and for a more formal introduction, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, although you two met at the door.” Your eyes attempted to meet his again, but he was staring at the ground. You couldn’t help the whisper that escaped your lips “Doctor.”

 Either the profilers didn’t hear it, or chose to ignore it, along with the blush forming on your cheeks yet again. You looked around the room again and couldn’t stop yourself from speaking your thoughts. “God, is it a requirement to be hot as hell to work for the FBI?” Everyone laughed as you threw your hand over your mouth, eyes widening. “Oh God. That’s embarrassing. It’s true though, what a good looking team.” That earned more laughter form the group.

  It was clear they were all wondering why you had just sobbed into their coworkers adorable sweater vest. You waited a beat hoping someone would say something. But since they were all staring at you, and you hate awkward silences, you couldn’t help but blurt out “today was my 3 year anniversary with my boyfriend,” Not noticing the slight frown appear on Spencer’s face, you continued “but I went over to his place and found him in bed with another woman. So now I am very drunk.” Their faces all softened, offering slight words of encouragement as you sunk into the sofa and picked up the bottle of white wine from the table. Not even bothering with a glass, you started drinking again. You drank nearly half the bottle before taking a breath.

 “Woah” you heard someone say, but honestly you didn’t know who. “Why don’t we play a game or something? Maybe switch to water so you don’t completely hate yourself tomorrow?” You realized it was JJ talking. “I am always down – hiccup – for a game. I must warn you, I am extremely competitive though. Plus, I don’t get hungover so I’ll be fine.” You looked at their disbelieving faces. “Fine” you muttered, annoyed at having to explain this again, “I’ll switch to water for a bit. But only because I want to win.”

 Penny went to get the cards, confirming your statement “Y/N is right ya know. She has never been hungover. I’ve seen her drink countless tequila shots, chase them each with a wine cooler and clean her entire apartment before 8 AM the next day.”

 “Impressive.” Derek smirked as he looked at you.

 “What can I say? It really boosts my productivity.” The room chuckled as the hot doctor chimed in.

 “Your liver is responsible for breaking down all the alcohol you consume into an enzyme called acetaldehyde, the toxin responsible for hangovers. Recent studies have shown about 23% of people are able to break down the acetaldehyde much faster resulting in little to no hangover symptoms. Whether or not you experience hangovers is based 45% on genetics.” You looked over to him, wildly impressed with the first words you’ve heard him say.

 “What’s the other 55% based on?” You asked, intrigued to finally know why you don’t actually experience hangovers. He looked surprised as he met your eyes for the first time since you entered the room.

 “It’s actually a mixture of volume of alcohol, water, and food consumption.” You chuckled as he said this.

 “Well, it must be genetics for me because there are a few times I remember making very bad choices…” You felt the thought slip away as Dr. Spencer Reid smiled at you.

 “How can she even do simple math right now? Based on the story she’s had 10 drinks in the last 3 hours?” Emily whispered to JJ and Derek. They exchanged glances as Penny finally sat back down with the cards.

 “What should we play?” She asked the room, but mostly you. You could already feel your competitive edge creeping in as you tore your eyes from Spencer’s to suggest one of your favorite group games. “Egyptian Rat Screw!” It should be especially fun since you were all drinking. Nobody seemed to know the game though, so you quickly explained the rules as you took the cards to shuffle and deal.

 “Remember, whoever gets all the cards wins. Slap sandwiches and doubles. Royals have the special rules we just talked about. If you slap and there’s nothing there, you have to put a card in the bottom of the pile.” You said as everyone got situated around the table unsure what to expect. “Ready?” you asked, a mischievous grin on your face.

 --

 After winning the first two games you couldn’t help but tease everyone “I am definitely the drunkest one here. I thought a group of FBI agents would have better reaction times!” You giggled as everyone laughed along with you. You dealt the cards into five piles, one for each agent. “No cards for you?” Derek asked. “Nope.” You popped the “p” as you took in their confused faces. “I’m going to start with no cards and see if I still win.” There was a clear competitive glint in your eyes, with a matching smirk.  They seemed disbelieving that you would pull out another win, but continued along with the game.

 You hadn’t even tried slapping the table until there was only Spencer and Derek left with cards. Emily, JJ, and Penelope were chatting aimlessly, having lost interest a few minutes ago. You sat up and stared at the ever growing pile of cards. The whole game was basically memorizing the order of cards, or at least the general timeline. You knew as soon as Derek played his jack, Spencer would follow with an identical card. As you spotted the first jack hit the pile, Derek taunted Spencer “Haha pretty boy, one chance to get a royal or I’m pulling in the big pile.” The two of them seemed to have forgotten that you could get back in the game. Spencer smiled as he flipped over what you knew to be a jack. It was clear from the smirk on his face he knew it was a jack as well. What he didn’t count on was your cat-like reflexes slapping the pile before he could finish laughing at Derek’s sad face.

 The two of them looked shocked as you picked up the cards, readying them for the next set of flipping. “Damn girl, I thought you forgot how to play.” Derek laughed at the smug grin you were wearing. He only had two cards left. Easily knocking Derek from the game, he joined the side conversation being had in the kitchen as he resigned to another round lost. You turned to Spencer, almost whispering “Looks like it’s just you and me, Doctor.” Spencer looked up from his cards stating, “you sound pretty confident considering your opponent has an eidetic memory and knows the exact order of both our hands.” You stuck your tongue out as you placed your first card. “Not fair.”

 Minutes passed as the game drew on, neither player really making an advance. You yawned as you flipped another card onto the table, losing focus for just a second. Reid recognized the pattern emerging, getting ready to slap after your next card. You forgot to look at the potential for a sandwich, playing your next card. You noticed it a second to late as you slapped your hand down. Spencer beat you too it though, and when your hand landed it was on top of his. You didn’t move at first, shocked to have lost so many cards at once. Spencer was gloating as you picked up his hand and put it on top of yours.

 He finally looked down to see you pulling the cards toward you before jumping up to get them back. You held the cards close to your heart, faking the offense you felt at his suggestion that you would cheat, despite your very obvious cheating. When he reached for the cards, you backed up into the couch, holding them above your head. He knelt over you, leaning forward to reach your outstretched hand, forgetting for just a second that he really didn’t know you at all and being this close should make him uncomfortable.

 You shrieked as he tickled your sides to pull the cards in. He was gloating yet again as he pulled them from your grasp, not realizing how close the two of you had become. The two of you froze yet again as you felt that same magnetic force as earlier pulling you closer as you looked into his eyes. He cleared his through as he sat up, returning to his seat to finish the game. 

The two of you continued the game until you only had a few cards left. “It appears as though your winning streak is quickly coming to an end.” Spencer joked with you, playing a queen. He was clearly trying to ease whatever tension was lingering from your couch experience. You glanced at the cards in the middle of the table. It must have been 45 cards in the pile. You switched tactics to playing the cards as quick as possible to prevent another mistake.

A queen meant playing two cards in a row. You knew you had two sevens in a row in your hand, so you were ready to take him down. You glanced up stating “Rule 1: The Doctor lies.” You stated matter-of-factly as you flipped over your first seven. “Oh, and don’t blink.” You said, playing the second and slapping it before he finished comprehending your two Doctor Who references. You just had an instinctual feeling that Doctor Who would distract him.

 You finished the game with relative ease as the others made their way back into the room. You celebrated as you took the rest of his cards, completing the game and adding another tally to the mental scoreboard you had in your head. As everyone sat back down, you put the cards away. It was now 12:30 in the morning and suddenly you were exhausted. You rose from your seat, putting your coat back on your shoulders. “I should go home” you said, earning stares from everyone.

 “You are completely welcome to stay the night here!” Penelope said as you continued preparing to leave.

 “Thank you, Penelope, but I already feel so much better.” You chanced a glance at Spencer to see him staring right back. “I want to go home and lay in my bed and throw all his stuff out the window. Plus I could really use some fresh air right now.” Everyone started to verbally object now. Sometimes you forgot what Penelope does for a living and how much she’s seen. “No really, I’ll be fine.” You continued, “I live in The City Block, it’s only half a mile from here!” This did nothing to satisfy the worried looks on the five faces staring back at you.

 “That’s on the way to my building.” Spencer stated. “I’ll walk with you, okay?” You looked up, surprised. Slowly a small smile appeared on your face. “Okay.” Somehow that was all you could manage. Everyone said their goodbyes as you and Spencer made your way out of the apartment and started walking down the street.

 tag list:

@mac99martin​ @eevee0722​ @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Grinch

Previously Day 31

Clexa: You’re basically a grinch but let’s see if red Xmas lingerie fixes anything 😉

“I don’t want to go.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” 

With an exaggerated sigh and low rumble of complaint, Lexa flopped on the couch and covered her face with her hands, hoping to hide from the news. Everything was stupid and she felt the inkling of a tantrum in her muscles. She didn’t want to have one, but she felt it and it was like driving a car with bald tires in a blizzard. 

The dramatics did nothing for her girlfriend though, who just continued to empty the bags on the kitchen counter and adjust the radio that played low holiday classics in the background to the rather dreary Tuesday evening. Lexa peaked from beneath her hands and sighed because Clarke was pretty and got whatever she wanted. Still in her scrubs, hair tied up, she hummed along as she put away the food. 

The apartment was well versed in the holiday spirit despite Lexa’s disinterest in the entirety of the season. The tree was in the corner, there was garland hanging from the counters and windows, there were lights in the window, stockings on the TV stand, and there were candles that smelled like warm apple pie. Clarke wasn’t overwhelmingly forceful with her holiday spirit. It all came so naturally. She slipped things here and there until it was suddenly the middle of December and Lexa didn’t recognize where she lived. 

Friends for nearly three years, and dating for just about one, Lexa wasn’t sure how she was going to explain that she just didn’t like the holidays. There was no real impetus against it, just that she felt exceedingly lonely and sad and lacking, like her entire body was a husk, the feelings and growth and love sucked out like a thick milkshake. There were reasons, she just didn’t like them. There were reasons and she didn’t want to have to share them. 

“What if I wait here for you to get done and then we can watch those stupid Christmas movies you like?” 

“It’s just a party.” 

“A Christmas party with all of your friends.” 

“With all of our friends.” 

Lexa groaned again as Clarke shook her head and made her way around the kitchen and into the living room. She made her way to the couch where Lexa crossed her arms over her chest as she sunk into the pillows. 

Petulant, Lexa watched as Clarke moved to straddle her on the couch. She didn’t move because her apartment was decorated and she couldn’t change it. 

“I’ll give you a little something special as a reward if you go.” 

“I don’t need bribery, Clarke.” 

Clarke leaned down and kissed under her jaw, slow and soft and warm. 

“But you’ll accept it?” 

“I’m not going to say no.” 

XXXXXXXXX

The stupid Christmas party was not nearly as bad as she’d expected. It never was, and Clarke was always right, though Lexa would scarcely be able to admit something like that. Not so easily and not about that. 

Instead, she sipped her drinks and let herself be dragged around, because her girlfriend was happy and she was a sucker. 

“You look very cute.” 

“Shut up,” Lexa groaned under the teasing as she tossed her keys on the counter and Clarke tripped over herself taking her heels off in the hallway. 

“I mean it. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night.” 

Lexa found herself struggling to tug the stupid sweater off, getting tangled in it as she rolled against the wall, falling against it and making the pictures vibrate with the thump. A few seconds of wrestling ensued before she popped it off, her hair a wild mess with the effort. Slightly overheated, she tried to catch her breath. 

“I know you hate this time of year,” Clarke sighed, leaning forward somewhat. She couldn’t escape the hold that the wall seemed to have on her as well. “But I appreciate that you put up with it with relatively little complaints.”

The house was quiet, the late hour softening the single light left on in the kitchen, but Lexa could see how dilated Clarke’s eyes were, and she could hear the tilt to her voice that usually accompanied good things. She wasn’t sure how it suddenly got very difficult to not rub her thighs together. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“You’re amazing, and I have a present for you.” 

“It’s not Christmas yet.” 

“Do you not want a present?” 

Clarke said it as she unbuttoned a button on her shirt, and Lexa forgot the date entirely, let alone any complaint she might have about anything in the world at all. She enjoyed the way Clarke wobbled and at the same time looked like she knew exactly what ever muscle was doing. 

“I do. I want one.” 

“Even though you hate this season,” Clarke persisted, standing a bit straighter as she looked down at her own fingers doing some slow unbuttoning. “And abhor the fake feelings of joy that should exist universally all year round?” 

“That doesn’t sound like me.” 

“You kicked over a snowman.” 

“He was in the way.” 

“You ate my niece’s cookies for Santa.” 

“I didn’t know…”

The words trailed off as Lexa snapped her mouth shut and gulped at the red lace that was on display and a shirt got tossed to the side. Dazed by the surprising display, she felt the floor spinning for an entirely different reason than the alcohol from the party. 

“What if we made some new Christmas memories?” 

“Like what?” 

Pants were unzipped and Lexa kept staring. She wanted to touch but she also couldn’t imagine doing anything else but looking. She was in love with Christmas and the colors and the gifts. She was ready to don her gay apparel. 

“Seriously? I’m standing here in a fancy new bra and you--”

Before the words came out, Lexa surged forward, her lips snagging Clarke’s mid-sentence. She pressed the half-naked girl against the wall and cupped the lace eagerly, roughly, quickly. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

Clarke couldn’t hide a squeal as her girlfriend picked her up, carrying her toward the bed. 

NEXT

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Unexpected Part 4

Harry Potter Marauders Era Post-Hogwarts 

Link to Part 3 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M 

____

The sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door roused from your deep sleep. You heard Regulus groan beside you as he lifted enough to look at the clock.

“The fuck?”

Regulus grumbled. Who the hell was waking him up at 7:30 am when Halley was sleeping?

“What?”

Regulus snapped. The door opened and James stepped in with his hand over his eyes.

“Do you two have clothes on?”

“No.”

Regulus replied, with a grin. The more that he could make James uncomfortable the happier Regulus would be. He wasn’t a fool. Regulus knew that James was still pissed over you running off and getting married. For the few days that the three of you had been staying with James and Lily, James had barely said 4 words to you and it was beginning to annoy Regulus. He made a mental note to talk to James later.

You, meanwhile, gave your husband a small displeased expression as James spoke again.

“That’s just great. I really don’t want to be in here but Reg, your mother is here and we don’t know what to do with her. She’s trying to tell Sirius that he’s doing everything wrong with Halley. They are about to fight. Not to sound concerned but I would pay to see it but I don’t want my kitchen destroyed either.

Regulus quickly got up in search of his abandoned pants. This was the last thing that he wanted to deal with. He needed some form of caffeine before dealing with Walburga or Sirius.

“Fuck shit crap...what the fuck is she doing here?”

James, who had turned around, shrugged.

“We wondered the same thing. It's kind of funny though. Halley is looking at your mother like she hasn’t seen anything like her before.”

Regulus sighed.

“Because she hasn’t. Y/n and I don’t act like raving lunatics around her. Whether you want to believe it or not, but we used to live a very drama-free life. I knew this would happen. We would tell her and she is just going to show up at random times. Who the hell comes visiting at 7:30?”

“You drama-free? Forgive me for not believing that. As far as your mother, she’s been here since 7.”

James clarified. For once, James had to agree with Regulus on something. When James opened his door that morning to see Walburga Black on the other side, he had to make sure that the world hadn’t ended. James was under the impression that Walburga never wanted to see him again. After all, the horrible woman screamed it at his face when Sirius ran away and James was not the least bit upset.

Regulus turned.

“7? Normal people are sleeping at 7...oh wait...this is my mother that we are talking about...carry on. You said that Sirius has Halley?”

James nodded.

“He’s protecting her like a little piece of gold. I think it's annoying your mother and that is what’s the best about it. She wanted to hold her and Sirius told her that his turn wasn’t over and she has to wait in line.”

You ran a hand through your hair trying not to sigh. This was going to a giant mess!

“I got this,Y/n.”

Regulus muttered as he pulled on a shirt and stormed downstairs. If his mother thought for one minute that she was going to sink her claws into his daughter, she had another thing coming! The last thing that Regulus was going to let happen was Halley have a horrible childhood like him. He would die before that happened.

It's a good thing that we willed Halley to Sirius. I could rest in peace knowing that she is safe with him. I will rest better knowing that James also doesn’t have her.

Regulus thought with a pleased smile. The two of you had sat down one night after Halley was born and decided “who do we really hate the most?” Regulus thought the whole thing was rather amusing until you made the comment,

“We need to decide who would be best to raise our child if something happens to us. Do you really find our child’s security a laughing matter?”

The two of you had come to an agreement that Halley would go to Sirius since James and Lily had Harry to worry about. Of course, James and Lily could be involved as they liked in their niece's life but Regulus was adamant that Halley went to Sirius and you agreed.

Walburga looked up when Regulus stormed into the room. She automatically frowned at her youngest son’s disheveled appearance. Regulus’ curly hair was a mess and his shirt was untucked. Walburga hadn’t seen her son look this bad in ages. If Walburga wasn’t hell-bent on holding her granddaughter she would make a comment about Regulus looking sloppy.

“Regulus, make your brother give me the baby.”

Regulus’ attention went to Sirius who sat at the table cuddling Halley. Without saying anything, Regulus eagerly took the cup of coffee that Lily was holding out to him. He didn’t turn to face his mother who looked like she was about to blow a fuse over being ignored. It vaguely reminded Regulus of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. If she started screeching, “I will not be ignored” Regulus wouldn’t be able to fight the urge to laugh at her. What was she going to do, after all? Send him to his room?

“Regulus, you are ignoring me.”

Walburga snapped. Regulus shook his head and pointed to the cup of coffee in his hand.

“See, he has to have the motivation to deal with you too. He’s just too nice to say it.”

Sirius commented. Walburga huffed as she sat back down at the table. Her dark eyes were focused on her eldest son and granddaughter.

“You should have socks on the baby. She’s going to catch a cold.”

“It's warm in here.”

Sirius muttered.

“Sheesh mother, would you sit down and take a pill or something? It isn’t like we are going to let her crawl through a puddle of bleach or something. We aren’t heathens.”

Walburga rolled her eyes before standing up and turning back to her youngest son.

“We are having dinner with our whole family tonight. Bring your wife and the child...and for Merlin’s sake brush your hair. You look like your father did after Sirius was born...I swear a woman has a baby and the father goes to pieces.”

Regulus finally had enough coffee to be able to process his thoughts clearly.

“I haven’t gone to pieces, mum. I was asleep. It's barely 7:45...most people are sleeping.”

Walburga put on her sweater with a disapproving scowl that used to send Sirius and Regulus running. Her face reminded Regulus of the time that he had caught the living room drapes on fire.

“I’m sure your wife wasn’t sleeping. You should help her with the child.”

Regulus groaned.

“Mother, I swear to god...it is too early and I haven’t had enough…”

Sirius jumped up and tugged Regulus after him.

“Happy family time is over mother. They will show up to your cult dinner later. Try not to ruin him any more than you already have.”

“You’re not coming, are you?”

Walburga questioned. She didn’t want to deal with Sirius more than she had to. If she dealt with him too much then she could develop feelings for his sassy sarcastic self and she didn’t want anything to deal with that. She was catching enough feelings being around Regulus and Halley. Adding Sirius to the mix would be a disaster!

“Not in a million years.”

Sirius replied before leaving the room muttering to Halley about her family being crazy and to not listen to anything that anyone told her.

“I’ll tell you all about the cult when you get old enough to understand. Your crazy grandma is an alcoholic and needs her special cider to function.”

Regulus shook his head before turning back to his mother who looked ready to start yelling. The fact that Walburga Black wasn’t screaming spoke volumes about her actually want to be involved in Halley’s life.

“We’ll come, mother.”

That evening you stood beside Regulus as the two of you stared at the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Why are we doing this again?”

Regulus questioned. You sighed as he snuggled Halley closer to him.

“We are being good people and Halley deserves to know both sides of her family.”

Regulus didn’t make any facial expression before turning to you.

“We can just tell her that my family is a bunch of shady characters that she really doesn't need to know. Hell, Sirius can back us up on that one. Halley has your family and she has Sirius...that's enough from my family. She doesn’t need to grow up witnessing these psychos in action.”

Before you could respond the front door opened. Orion stood on the other and smiled seeing Halley in her father’s arms.

“There you two are. We were wondering what was taking so long. Now let me have her.”

You watched as Regulus made a pained expression the moment that his father snatched Halley from him. Orion spent the next few moments smiling down at her as Halley started tugging at the buttons of his vest. ‘

Regulus silently prayed that Halley would start pulling hair that night. That would be one hell of a way to make an introduction into the family...giving someone a new bald spot.

“Come on it. Everyone else is here.”

Regulus reached over and wrapped his hand around yours. You couldn’t help feeling sad when you noticed the dark expression on Regulus’ face. It was the same expression that he had the day before. You assumed that this would be a normal thing anytime that the two of you were in the Black family home.

Multiple sets of eyes rolled up when you stepped into the room with Regulus. You knew a few of the people already. Narcissa and Lucius were looking at the two of you with wide eyes while Bellatrix scowled in your direction. The horrible woman almost made a comment but was stopped the moment Narcissa elbowed her in the side.

Walburga smiled before turning to Druella.

“I assume that you haven’t been told but Regulus and Y/n married not long ago. This is their daughter Halley.”

Regulus hated the way that his aunt and cousins were looking around at each other as if saying,

How is he still here? How is Regulus still with us? What was Walburga thinking?

Walburga turned back to her youngest son with a pleased smile.

“Sit down.”

The next half an hour was the tensest of your life. While Walburga had been overly nice to you the day before, tonight she was in a constant conversation with her sister-in-law. Tonight, she was clearly showing the true colors that Regulus mentioned to you before.

So much for being hopeful….

You thought as Narcissa turned to you. She gave you a sweet smile.

“Halley is a darling little girl. How old is she?”

“Four months.”

Regulus replied. Narcissa again smiled ignoring her cousin’s careful gaze. Regulus wasn’t about to let his guard down. He didn’t care how sweet Narcissa pretended to be. Regulus wasn’t as concerned about Narcissa as he was Bellatrix. His older cousins’ cold gaze was locked on the two of you.

“She’s the same age as our Draco. How wonderful they are the same age! Did you have a hard time with the pregnancy?”

You shook your head before putting your drink down.

“Not at all. A little morning sickness but that was it. Her birth wasn’t bad either.”

Your eyes flickered over to Regulus who had a small smile on his face.

“I think we both did well.”

Narcissa’s mouth dropped.

“You mean, Regulus stayed in the room with you? He didn’t leave?”

You immediately realized just what Draco’s birth was probably like for Narcissa. She was probably in some cold sterile room all alone. “He was with me the whole time. He may have been a bit traumatized but he did just fine.”

Narcissa immediately glared at Lucius. The man was giving Regulus the biggest “fuck you” expression imaginable.

“I think that you and I will have a talk later.”

Both Lucius and Narcissa sat hissing at each other quietly for the next fifteen minutes. You leaned over to Regulus.

“I think I just caused a rift between them.”

Regulus smirked. He couldn’t give two shits as to what was pissing Narcissa and Lucius off. They could get hit by a bus for all Regulus cared.

Bellatrix, who had been listening quietly, the whole time was finally beginning to have enough. She wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Regulus brought you home. Since when was he allowed to go marry whomever he wished? Bella didn’t have that luxury nor did Narcissa or any other woman. Regulus probably got to do as he wished because he was a male.

Stupid double standard.

Bellatrix muttered before turning to Narcissa.

“Regulus was always the weak one. Now look he’s gone and knocked up a blood traitor.”

She said it loud enough for you to hear. You had to stop yourself from turning to hex the bitch. If you needed another reason to hate Bella. She had given you one. Clearly, she knew nothing about her cousin. Regulus was anything but weak.

“Reggie, can we go home now?”

You whispered in his direction. Regulus’ eyes turned in your direction. He had somehow started talking to his father.

“Soon.”

________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @lucasfilms77 @realgaytrash @fandomsxxregulus @spiderxalmighty @jessyballet @knreidy1 @rubyroscoe1 @acciosiriusblack @quuenofblacks @hazncalsgal @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @maggioli-m @emiwrites3reads @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[lovelylogans]

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun. 

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds. 

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day. 

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy. 

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy! 

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.” 

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball. 

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies. 

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle. 

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted. 

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.” 

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

[llycaons]

el camino 3/3

all done! whew. wild to end the story on a high note for once

first, from an earlier scene

this made me so angry I almost paused watching to stand up and pace. WHAT A THNG TO SAY TO HIM

anyway, aaron paul does comedy so well. I love his funny scenes

wow he was NOT bluffing. I thought it was obvious he wasn't..,poor choice, jesse

hardass about the 1800 but he's not a malicious person. lies to cops

I didn't expect this show to be such a scavenger hunt. the plot is basically 'jesse tries to get from point A to point B and collect things he needs and sometimes gets into fights'

it's not weak on plot, but the highlight is the characters. I can't see someone who hasn't watched the show really enjoying it or even understanding it

OH I get it. todd thinks of jesse as a pet. yeah it took me a while but it fits exactly. like a pet he looks after and treats relatively decently but uses like a working animal

neil is fucking off the walls. a DUEL?

I mean I knew this was vaguely a western but it doesn't fit super well tonally into the introspective, grounded, and largely nonviolent story so far

I mean what kind of maniac...

WHOO JESSE BOY PULLED A FAST ONE YEAH HE'S SO SMART

MAGNETS. SIPHONING. ROBOTS. what a smart boy

YEAH KILL THE BASTARD WHO MADE YA RUN LIKE A RAT

the flashback confused me so bad. first I was like 'who is he talking to nobody is left for him' and then we went and knocked on that door and this little old bald man came out and I was like ???? is that supposed to be ww???

well chalk that up ww looking strange and frail and tiny idk

anyway so classic that jesse goes "I like sports medicine" and ww goes "no. you should do business"

I'm sorry that cofounding a company, doing research that contributed to a nobel prize, getting married to someone you claim is the love of your life, and having two beautiful children wasn't 'special' enough for you mr "I only care about my family"

pathetic little man

omg...alaska...

know what hit me about this shot

SWEATER. he never needed a sweater before! he never changed his clothing style once. CHANGE. NEW ENVIRONMENT

like black sails when the setting shifted to philly...massive changes indicated by the scenery...the characters have gone through a great journey

I knew this was coming since my brother told me a little but it's so gratifying to see. he may be horrifically traumatized and he's probably going to see longterm health impacts but by god. he got away. he's in a completely new place, nice and quiet and very different from what he left behind, he's free. he has money! he can build all the boxes he wants! maybe he gets a dog. he seems like a dog guy

JANE I SEE JANE I miss her

I hope he gets the chance to have kids or something he really seemed to love being part of andrea's family unit

god, poor brock. he's got nobody. what even could jesse have put in his letter? and there's no money for them anymore

oh yeah and this?

I thought he made ed a card to thank him and I almost started crying. I guess I just crave stories where people love each other more. but of course it wasn't for ed

man but jesse must be so touch-starved. I just wish someone would give him a hug

but regardless

HE MADE IT!!!!

[bittywitches]

Gone in the Night - Pt. 1

| Schedule + Event Info | Masterlist |

Summary: Y/N and the twins are looking for a fun Halloween adventure, but it seems they’ve gotten more than they bargained for.

Warnings: Explicit Language

Word Count: 3k

A/N: It’s finally here! Hope you guys enjoy this spooky treat <3

Tags -  @brockdolan @livelaughlolobelle @grxysgxrl​ @guiltydols​

•   •   •

The house itself should have been enough of a warning.

It was an old building, the only one in the neighbourhood that hadn’t been torn down to be reconstructed into bigger houses with much less yard space. It’s grey and blackened wooden walls looked brittle. It seemed unreasonable that the house hadn’t toppled over in the late evening breeze, but it stood firm. Even so, it was uninhabitable still, as the skirting around the sides had been torn off. The front porch, however, looked like it had been torn up and out of the ground as if it were a vegetable a farmer had carelessly plucked out of his garden. The wooden support legs from the front could be seen halfway up, pulled through the earth. In Y/N’s mind it seemed only plausible for something like a tornado, maybe an earthquake to have caused that kind of damage, though she knew that wasn’t possible. While California had many earthquakes year round, usually none were great enough to cause too much damage. Plus, she had a deep feeling that this had nothing to do with unpredictable weather. That feeling made her want to puke.

The railing of the porch stood up at an awkward angle, some of the poles snapped and broken, other’s splintered. The backside, the part connected to the house and leading to the door, had sunken into the dirt, so the entire surface was tilted. Looking at it from the front, seeing the empty dark space below the base with the support beams sticking out of the ground, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like the weird positioning of the porch disturbingly resembled a mouth. She found herself leaning to the side, looking past the beams and the staircase into the empty abyss below the porch, as if waiting for something to appear. It seemed childish looking back on it later, but she was half-expecting a pair of glowing yellow eyes to materialize. But she shook her head, scolding herself, because the only thing she’d probably find under there would be a family of raccoons.

The more she stared at the house however, the more things she found that eerily resembled a face. The dirty and tinted windows at the top with their broken shutters and cracked glass felt like a pair of old eyes, watching as people passed by. There was a dormer that was conveniently placed almost directly center of those windows further down, looking like a crooked nose. She could barely see the top of the roof, but noticed missing shingles, underneath them being ashy gray squares, as if bald spots on this menacing figure. And of course, the deep and dark mouth of the porch with it’s rusty wooden teeth did nothing but send shivers up her spine.

Her sickly feeling only intensified when she realized how starkly this reminded her of 29 Neibolt street. This house, however, did not have a number; she could faintly see the markings of a number near the front door, but the metal plates had either been teared off too long ago for the contrast of the wood to show, or the degeneration of the house over time had simply just taken its effect. Either way, Y/N surely was not eager to look back under the porch now; for if she were to be faced with a sickly leper, she’d most definitely shit her pants.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Y/N and her two friends stood on the front lawn of the lean dwelling, the grass beneath them dry and crunching beneath their feet with each step they had taken. It was funny; she wasn’t really sure how they’d even ended up here in the first place. She remembered them deciding to go buy pumpkins… Grayson was eager not to put off decorating any longer. They’d piled into the car, but… had they bought the pumpkins?

“I don’t know man, these are a bit pricey.” Y/N finally looked away from the house at the sound of Ethan’s voice, only for her attention to be caught by the eager man flaunting the tickets in their face.

That’s right, tickets. This was an event of sorts. A haunted house? Something like that, she thought he had said.

“Why, but it’s a buy one get two free special, you won’t find anything else out there,” he spoke, more directly to Y/N than the twins behind her. Of course, they’d been walking down the street- but why again? Was this near the patch they were going to? Whatever the case, the man had seen them passing by, stopped them with his vivacious attitude and grand voice, barking about the great deal on these tickets.

Y/N looked at the man. He wasn’t a pleasant sight to see. His sunken and hollow eyes seemed almost skeletal, his pale skin an ashy color against the darkening sky. He was tall, unsettlingly tall for a man who looked ancient. He was around 6’1, bordering 6’2, which only freaked Y/N out even more considering he loomed over the twins, the two of whom she’d always thought herself to be quite large. The man’s lanky body parts seemed disproportionate to his narrow frame, his bony arms dangling awkwardly from his sides, his hands seeming too big for them. The wrinkled fingers of his left hand gripped firmly onto the tickets, though they did not crinkle or bend under his touch. They alone seemed to be the one thing in front of her that were crisp, clean, perfect. Almost too perfect, and it hit her in a bad way, almost as much as the outfit the old man had on.

His outfit was one you’d see a vintage carnival worker wearing, one who sat inside a ticket booth at the front of a circus, for example. He wore a stiff white dress shirt, blindingly white compared to his stale fingernails and his yellowing, stained, and chipped teeth that showed with every creepy, crooked grin. The shirt was much too large for him, however, the cuffs of the sleeves coming down to his thumbs. But it didn’t feel like it was too big; no, it felt like the man had shriveled up in his clothes, withered down into the frail man he was within the cotton. He had a crisp suit vest on top, with white and red stripes running down vertically. It too seemed weird, awkward, almost like a protective guard more than a piece of clothing. A bright red bow tie was tied at the base of his neck, matching the color of his shoes, but much of them were covered by his overly large white pants. The same pattern of colours were seen on his top hat. It had a short and flat top with a narrow brim, a pattern of red and white lines going around it.

Now, all of this Y/N could get by with. So the man was a little strange, and he was a bit eager to get rid of the tickets in his hand. What was the big deal?

But there was just something about his face that irked her. The details of his wrinkles, the spots on his forehead, the random tufts of hair from his ears and his nose, the dangling ear lobes and the non-existent eyebrows. His sunken in eyes, almost swallowed by his skin, the bags of them highlighting the yellowing whites even more. His terrible cackle, his horrifying grin. All of these things, but something deeper, some other visceral gut reaction within her told her that something was off. She just couldn’t place it.

“What do you say, my lady?” The old man garbled one more time, raising an eyebrow and giving her a toothy grin, only making her shudder once more. The man raised a frail arm towards the house, gesturing towards the door.

“A haunting experience awaits.”

Y/N’s eyes followed his arm and his gaze, settling on the tall black door resting shut. It gave her a similar vibe to the void under the porch, like something was lurking just past that thin piece of wood. It was an ebony black, a stark contrast to the greying planks of the house.  You’d expect the paint to be chipping, but it looked like a fresh coat. It actually seemed to be the one thing from the house that hadn’t been touched by age, other than…

The staircase.

God, why hadn’t she noticed the stair case?

While the porch had been ripped well out of the ground, the staircase leading up to it, the one she had leaned to look around into the darkness under there, was perfectly intact. The wood was still perfectly symmetrical, no splinters, no cracks. It had a different hue compared to the rest of the wood, it didn’t look aged, weathered, or beaten up like the rest of the house did. But how did she not notice it? She swore she looked at it when they first passed by… she’d seen a squirrel scurry across it. It hadn’t looked this new then, did it? No, it seemed blended into the rest of the house, but now… It was distinguishable. It had a presence.

It was still connected to the porch, but somehow still firmly grounded into the earth. This seemed impossible to Y/N, if it was still connected, shouldn’t it also be ripped out of the ground? Wouldn’t there be cracks in the wood from the pressure?

Apparently not. All Y/N could think was that the staircase felt like a long, winding creature. A snake or a serpent grasping onto both ends of this creepy house and the world in front of it, growing and shrinking along with it’s changes to keep it anchored to reality. To provide a pathway to what lies within.

But then again, it could just be her imagination. She had been watching a lot of scary movies recently.

She turned to look behind her at the broad twins, them in their sweaters and sweatpants, Ethan with his hands stuffed into his pockets and Grayson with his hoisted on his hips.

“Sounds like it’ll be fun.” Grayson piped in, a small smile appearing on his face. Y/N’s eyes fluttered over to Ethan’s, and he gave an encouraging nod as well.

She sighed. It was the Halloween season. What better time to get spooked? “Alright. Why not?” She replied and took two wrinkled twenty-dollar bills from the wallet she had stuffed into her back pocket, and handed it to the man, who let out a screechy giggle when he plucked it from her fingers. He placed the three white tickets into Y/N’s hand, leering at her almost maliciously all the while, making her shrivel back.

“A wonderful decision, you won’t regret it.” The man almost carelessly stuffed the money into his back pocket, then clapped his dry hands together.

“Alright folks, “ He threw his arm up in an over the top gesture, His voice seeming to magnify in volume as he did so. “Step through the Stygian door to discover what awaits. Remember-” His other hand came up to suddenly grip Y/N’s arm, his cold palm making her gasp. He drew her close to him, his crooked nose inches from hers when he gave her another foul grin.

“Time is precious.”

He released her, and she stumbled back into the two boys behind her, their arms coming up to keep her balance.

The man stepped back from them, spreading his arms out in a demonstrative gesture as he did.

“Good luck,” he cackled, stopping when his foot met the pavement of the road. He tipped his hat at them and bowed, looking up one last time so they could meet his old eyes. “And have fun escaping.”  

A sudden screech came from behind the group, causing Y/N to jump once more, and the three whipped their heads towards the house. A murder of crows squawked and cawed as they flew from the roof of the house, somehow still clear in the darkening sky. There were so many, it seemed like they were spilling out from inside the house.

Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. “Alright, you sure put a lot of effort into your effects-” she turned around.

But the man was gone.

Another shiver went down her spine. She decided to push that feeling of unease away, however, sure that it was just an act the man was putting up for extra effect.

“That guy gave me the creeps,” Ethan mumbled, and Y/N chuckled at him half-heartedly before clearing  her throat.

“Alright, come on.” She and the twins made their way towards the house.

Y/N hesitated before stepping onto the stairs, cautious of the darkness so close to her now, even more aware of the strangeness of the porch’s architecture.

But she shook her head. She wasn’t going to let a bundle of nerves stop her from having a fun Halloween experience.

She and the boys walked up the steps, the three of them irked that they didn’t hear the expected moans of the floor-boards.

Y/N took a deep breath. She grabbed the black door knob, twisted it, pushed it open, then stepped over the gap caused by the sunken porch, and into the house.

“What in the Hocus Pocus is this?” Ethan asked, getting a laugh out of her and releasing the tension in her tight shoulders.

Inside, they were greeted with a furnished living room, though it still didn’t look like anyone had lived here in decades. The paint was chipping, wallpaper was peeling, the room just felt musty and old. The walls and ceiling were a yellowy colour, with stains covering many spots. A deep maroon carpet at their feet covered the dark brown planks of the floor, and extended into the center of the room, leading to the old rustic looking couches and coffee table arranged in the middle.  A fireplace was placed at the left wall, soot covering the insides and surrounding area, much like the dust covering almost every other surface. A mounted deer rested high above the fireplace, feeling like a sort of gatekeeper for the room they had just entered. It’s dark beady eyes shouldn’t have bothered Y/N as much as they did.

“This is literally some rich dead old white guy’s house.” Grayson finished his brother’s thought, walking into the room, which was dank and dark, the window at the back of the room not helping at all since it had grown late.

“So your guys’ house in fifty years or so.” She followed him, Ethan at her heels behind her.

Ethan scoffed. “Shut up.” He walked past one of the couches, dragging his finger across the leather material only to recoil when he saw how much dust he’d picked up.

“Okay, so where do we start?” Grayson asked, squatting down beside the coffee table. “We’re probably looking for something escape-roomy. A key? A button? Switch?” He ducked his head under it, probably to see if there was anything on the underside.

“I guess so.” She walked past him towards the fireplace, the cobblestone border and burnt up kindling seeming to call at her.

Ethan headed over to a cabinet against the back wall, with some ornate frames settled atop it. Grayson, after finding nothing, got up and walked over to the opposite side of the room, stopping in front of an oak door. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He turned back towards Y/N, and nodded towards the door. “I’m assuming we’re trying to figure out how to get this thing open. To actually start this whole thing up.”

“It’s locked?” Ethan asked.

Grayson rolled his eyes. “No, I just pretended it was for shits and giggles. Yea, dick-for-brains, it’s locked.”

“Damn okay jeez,” He muttered, turning back to the cabinet. “Don’t know what’s got you all worked up.”

Grayson breathed out. “Sorry. Think I’m just a little on edge. Didn’t think I’d be this spooked already.” He turned back to the door, jiggling the handle again before letting his hand fall.

“Yea, that guy was weird…” Y/N crouched down beside the fireplace, leaning her head in to get a better look.

“He looked a million years old.” Grayson added, his voice sounding distant behind her.

“Haha, yea-” Y/N turned her head to the side to look up through the chimney, thinking there may be something hidden up there, only for her eyes to meet two beady red ones.

“Holy SHIT!” She yelled, and screamed when a pair of fluttering leather wings shot down through the chimney and into her face, making her fall on her front into the charcoal and soot of the fireplace.

“Fuck it’s a BAT!” Ethan yelled, flinching away from the spazzing creature.

“GET IT OFF!!” Y/N screeched, pushing herself up and swatting her arms around her. Grayson ran forward to try and help, but the creature swooped down and stuck it’s tiny claws into Y/N’s back pocket, grabbing the three white tickets. Before Grayson could reach it, it flew up into the air, then darted to the other side of the room.

“Are you okay??” Ethan asked, rushing towards Y/N.

“No! That was a fucking BAT-” but she and the boys were interrupted by a loud rattling sound. They turned their heads to see the oak door shaking, almost vibrating, when it finally slammed open with an enormous whooshing sound, a sudden burst of air and wind shooting through the doorway causing the door to slam against the wall, chips of the crumbling paint falling to the floor along with a cloud of dust forming when it did so. The tiny bat, somehow hovering right in front of the door, seemingly unaffected by the currents coming through, flew through the door into the darkness of the other room, still clutching the three tickets in its claws, blending into the sea of black.

The three friends blinked. Slowly, Y/N got up, doing her best to dust herself off before turning to the two brothers, the shocked expressions on their faces still apparent.

“Well,” She pressed her lips together. “I guess it’s begun.”

[admiralty-xfd]

#45 Hegal Place

There’s never a dull moment when Special Agent Fox Mulder is your neighbor.

written by @admiralty-xfd​ and @scullymakesmefeelautopsyturvy​

CHAPTER ONE- EINSTEIN

November 1993

Mulder watched Ellen Reardon tear the photograph with steady hands and coolly discard eight year old Cindy’s image into the fire. The glossy coating bubbled as the paper twisted and melted amidst the searing flames. To his left, he saw Scully take a deep breath, heard her swallow hard. Neither of them said anything beyond the necessary pleasantries, making their excuses as they awkwardly vacated the Reardon household for the final time.

Scully carefully navigated the steps down from the porch and cut across the lawn with a slow, defeated gait. Mulder headed to the driver side door without discussion.

He broke the silence as they headed towards the airport.

“She seemed awfully quick to dismiss the daughter she loved and raised for eight years, don’t you think?”

Scully dragged her eyes away from the hundred yard stare that had heretofore been aimed out of the passenger window, her elbow neatly tucked onto the door ledge. She turned her face towards him, thoughtfully slow, her pouted lips peeling away from the forefinger that had been pressed against them. She sighed and shrugged.

“Grief can manifest in a lot of different ways, Mulder. She’s still processing everything. She just found out her own child murdered her husband. We don’t know what she’s feeling.”

Mulder nodded regretfully. Scully returned her gaze to the passing view, crooking her finger beneath her nose now. The pout returned. Mulder knew this meant she was mulling something over.

“You ever think about having kids, Mulder?”

This was so unexpected he laughed. Not a loud laugh but an airy, shocked chuff. He did a double take to check whether or not she was serious. She turned to consider him again, her face calm, her eyes steady. She was serious. His cheeks rounded as he attempted to form a response.

“No, I can’t say I have ever thought about it, Scully. To be honest I don’t even know if I could keep a pet alive. I think it helps to pass that test first before you consider being responsible for other humans.”

They drove the rest of the way to the airport without speaking. It didn’t even occur to him to ask if she ever thought about the subject herself.

December, 1993

Mulder surreptitiously watched Scully slide the last of her papers into her briefcase and clip it shut. She lifted her winter coat over her shoulders, letting it hang open over her skirt suit as he busied himself peering at a set of negatives through a loupe.

“You going to be at home in a couple hours Mulder? I wanted to swing by. I, ah, I have a little something for you.”

He looked up from his light box with some surprise.

“A gift? For me?”

“Yeah,” Scully answered, letting out a shallow breath, her eyes darting off to the side, her chin tilting up. She fingered a coat button at her waist.

“A couple hours? Better give me three,” Mulder hedged, thinking of the places that might possibly be open past five p.m. on a Thursday night two days before Christmas, and where he could buy a suitable festive offering for Scully.

Some time later, he’d just finished hastily wrapping the best thing he’d been able to find at such short notice when he heard a soft knock at his apartment door. He tugged it open, still holding the scissors in one hand. Scully stood in the hallway with her arms behind her back and a slightly self-conscious look on her face.

“Come on in,” he motioned to her. “This is all very mysterious.”

Scully quirked a playful eyebrow at him as she stepped inside, crab-walking into the living room with her back turned away from him to keep the contents of her hands concealed.

“I didn’t wrap it,” she said, apologetically. She stood still, hesitating.

“That’s okay, Scully, I’ll let you make it up to me somehow.”

She stared at him for a few seconds then shook her head a little, seeming to remember why she had come. She pulled her right hand out from behind her hip and presented him with an empty glass bowl. He nodded in thanks, but couldn’t conceal the confusion that played across his brow.

“And, ah, this,” she added, producing a clear plastic bag filled with water, clutched in her left fist. In the center of the turgid offering floated a bright orange goldfish; its tail twitching from side to side, its mouth lazily bobbing open and shut. He took it and lifted it up to better catch the light.

“Carnival in town?” he joked, grinning. “How many targets did you have to shoot down to win this for me, Scully? Isn’t it cheating if you have a firearms certificate?”

She smiled back.

“It’s so you can practice keeping something alive. Pass your test before you consider any…. further responsibilities.”

Was she blushing, he wondered? He couldn’t properly tell because she hid her face from his peering gaze almost immediately, looking down as she reached into her overcoat pockets. She lifted out some fish flakes, a bag of brightly colored pebbles, and a slim paperback entitled Practical Fishkeeping: A Beginner’s Guide .

She rested the last of his gifts down on the coffee table and looked up at him with an awkward, tight little smirk. He stood there balancing the fish and the bowl, just holding her gaze and smiling. She blinked and looked down at the empty glass orb, suddenly reaching out to take it back.

“Let me fill this up for you,” she offered, swiftly walking off through the dining room and into the kitchen. He followed.

At the sink, she placed the bowl down and turned on the cold water. She motioned for him to come closer.

“The guy at the pet store said you’re supposed to half fill it with new water, and the other half with the water from the bag. But you should let this get to room temperature first, then float the baggie in it for a while before making the transfer.”

Scully shut off the faucet and lifted the bowl from the sink, the water gently swishing from side to side. She slid it towards the back of the kitchen counter, next to the knife block, and reached out to take the bag from Mulder’s grip, gently placing it where the bowl had just been sitting. She reached up to tear some paper towels off the roll that was suspended under the cupboards, wiping up a few drops that had escaped, then padded the damp sheets together and turned to toss them into the trash can.

Mulder watched this whole domestic performance with quiet awe. The way Scully moved about his kitchen with ease, confidently knowing where things belonged and happy to take charge of them, pleased him greatly. It made him feel more at home than he’d ever felt while alone in his own space.

He realized he was staring at her. Scully took a deep breath and looked away, her eyes skipping past him into the next room, drawn to the lumpy package sitting on the dining table. It was gift-wrapped in cheap, gaudy paper featuring snowmen dancing pas de deux with eerily satanic elves: the only roll they’d had left at the gas station where he’d stopped in desperation.

“Is that for me?” she queried, gently.

“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed, dashing over to pick it up. He held it out for her to take, and she thanked him as she did, tucking it under her arm.

“You’re not going to open it?” he asked.

“It’s not Christmas yet, Mulder,” she said, teasingly. “I’ll take it to my parents’ house and put it under the tree to open Christmas morning.”

“But I opened mine,” he countered. His mind flashed to the image of Scully unwrapping his gift in front of her parents and siblings before Christmas Day Mass. It was a wall mounted key rack topped by a cat figurine with beady little humanoid eyes banded across its face. He'd panic-bought it at the gas station car wash gift shop. Women liked cats, right? He cringed, second-guessing his hasty decision, but it was too late now.

“It’s a fish, Mulder. I couldn’t wrap a fish.”

“Okay,” he relented, regretfully. Scully’s family were going to think he was such an ass.

“Anyway, I should get going,” she said with a sigh. “My sister just told me my little brother announced he’s not coming home for the holidays. She’s working on him but I gotta call my mom and talk her off a ledge just in case.”

He nodded. Began walking her to the door. As he pulled it open for her he reached out two fingers and a thumb, gently tugging at the sleeve of her coat. She hadn’t even taken it off. She looked back at him.

“Thanks for the gift, Scully. It’ll be nice to have some company at home as well as in the office now.”

Scully smiled shyly, stepping into the hallway.

They both looked up at the sound of the elevator doors opening at the other end of the hallway. Three men stepped out and approached the apartment directly opposite Mulder’s.

Number forty-five. It had been unoccupied for weeks.

They made for an odd trio: Mulder’s balding African American building manager in a folksy blue checked shirt, starting up what sounded like sales patter as he fiddled with the lock; a tall, white, clean shaven formal type with a vaguely unnerved expression, a fussy silk tie and nary a hair out of place, and a cherubic Asian American man whose only facial definition was provided by a thin line of beard along his jawline, dressed down in a chunky woollen sweater and cargo pants. The latter two waited patiently as the key proved sticky and awkward to turn, the super rattling the handle with some frustration. They turned their faces in languid unison to return Mulder and Scully’s curious gazes.

The taller man nodded upwards briefly in greeting, his silvered coif catching the light from the overhead bulbs. First Mulder, then Scully, returned the gesture with polite smiles and nods of their own, and the shorter man grinned, the rounded apples of his cheeks shining as he tilted his head downwards, looking directly at Mulder for a few seconds through notably long eyelashes.

The super got the door open, disappearing inside as he announced that the unit was available immediately, but fussy tie and chunky sweater lingered for a moment in the hallway, their eyes roaming over the length of Scully. Or Mulder. Or perhaps both. After a few seconds, the taller man, the one with the greying hair, softly reached for the elbow of his companion, looping his arm around the crook of it and tugging him through the open door, leading the way.

Just before he vanished from sight, the younger man lifted his hand and fluttered his fingers in their direction, mouthing but not verbalizing a quick, flirtatious “’bye.”

Mulder and Scully looked at one another in amused bewilderment. Scully raised her eyebrows and tilted her chin.

“New neighbors, huh?” Her eyes sparkled momentarily.

Mulder nodded, commenting, “Guess so,” while emitting a breathy chuckle.

They moved on.

She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, her left elbow squeezing her present against her ribs. “Okay, well, you should avoid feeding the fish for the first twenty-four hours while it settles in. And keep the lights dim.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he grinned.

Scully looked at him a bit playfully. “So… are you gonna give it a name?”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He felt a bit put on the spot. “Well, I don’t know Scully,” he hedged. “I’ll have to give it some consideration. Naming is a very important part of the pet keeping process.”

Scully’s eyes danced with the matching grin she was only half suppressing. After a beat, she spoke. “You can do it, Mulder, I believe in you.”

He bowed his head in gratitude, his hand gliding down the edge of the door.

Scully allowed herself to give him a satisfied smile, then turned on one heel and swept down the hall. At the elevator, she pushed the button before turning back.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she offered, with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he said in a low voice, leaning into the doorframe.

Well past midnight, Mulder reached the final page of the fishkeeping manual and closed the book. He reached over and placed it on the coffee table, turning onto his side ready for sleep. He lifted his head one last time, watching the little orange molly now happily exploring the confines of its bowl on top of the chest of drawers in the apartment entryway.

“Hey, Einstein,” he murmured into the gloom. “What do you say we get you a partner?”

Continue reading here!

[milesheizclub]

What Do You Want?

Summary: Alex has been distant again, so when he gets a weird note amidst all this confusion, Charlie expects the worst.

or

What I wanted to have happen the day before Charlie wakes up in Alex’ bed.

Word count: 1931

Read on AO3

Note: *un-beta’d as usual. I really love Chalex and it has touched a part of my heart that has affected me, oddly, much more than even Justlex and Zalex. So please be kind. Lmao

Please like and reblog!

-

When Charlie found out Alex wanted to meet in the park after school, his heart sank a little. He got the address and exact tree they were supposed to meet under on a little note slipped into his gym locker after practice. A little more eery than he was used to with Alex, but just as mysterious.

They were figuring things out, but it had undoubtedly been difficult for Charlie. Alex had kissed him back during the drills, and then pushed him away. Then the riot had happened, and he thought they were closer than ever. They’d been good; they were seeing each other often for the first few days, and Alex seemed… happy. He thought he was making Alex happy. He thought that Alex coming to look for him and help him during the riot was a sign that he really cared. But suddenly the distance returned, and the messages turned cryptic, and it was like they were back to square one.

It took a while for Charlie to spot him once he got to the park, but there he was, sitting cross-legged at the base of the tree, playing with the blades of grass before him, or rather, ripping them off one by one. Charlie dug his hands into his jacket pockets, and took his time walking to Alex. It wasn’t every day that he felt nervous to talk to anyone, but Alex was definitely different. He was special. And he was special to Charlie.

As soon as Charlie’s shoe stepped into Alex’ line of sight, the boy looked up from his patch of grass straight into Charlie’s blue eyes. He smiled a little, and it reached his eyes, but something else resided there and it made Charlie’s heart beat quicker. Alex pat the space on the ground beside him quietly, and Charlie took a seat a few inches away from him.

They sat there, simple and silent, for a few minutes, Alex continuing to rip up the grass in front of him, giving a couple of blades to Charlie, which prompted the perfectly gentleman “thank you” out of him, and Alex chuckled.

“I’m sorry about the past few days,” Alex started. He was speaking like he found determination, though his hands turned timid and quiet. Charlie tried to look at him, but Alex stared off into the distance. “I know that I’ve been… gone. It wasn’t fair to you, I know, and…” Alex paused, brows furrowed and eyes trained to the ground. “I hate that I did that.” His voice had diminished and Alex started ripping up the grass once again, leaving a bald spot in the soil.

Charlie badly wished to take Alex’ hands in his, to have him look him in the eyes again, to reassure him that everything was alright. But he waited.

“I don’t know if it hurt you, but,”

“It did.” Charlie couldn’t help it coming out of his mouth, and maybe it had come out more aggressively than he thought because Alex winced and clenched his fists. “Fuck,” Charlie mumbled. “I’m sorry,” he followed.

“Don’t be.” Alex’ breathing grew more staggered. “You shouldn’t be sorry about that.”

The silence that followed lasted another few minutes, Alex getting his breathing back to normal, and Charlie kicking himself on being so careless, pushing back when he didn’t need to. He wanted to reach out, but what if Alex retreated and pushed him away even further? It was the last thing he wanted, so he offered his hand instead, laying it facing up on the grass between them.

Alex glanced at it and took it immediately, giving Charlie’s hand a light squeeze, and Charlie let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, shaking his head lightly. “I’m really sorry.” Charlie chanced a glance and saw Alex screwing his eyes shut.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charlie said.

“No, it’s not.” Alex released his tight grip on Charlie’s hand but it let it rest beside, just barely touching. “I… want this. I want this with you, I want you more than you think.” His hand twitched and pulled back a few millimeters. “I really do care about you. So much. And if I let you in… that comes with a whole lot of shit that you shouldn’t have to deal with. I don’t want to put you through anything that has to do with me. I…” His mind was racing, Charlie could tell, by the way Alex’ eyes shifted behind his closed eyelids, and the way his breathing never really got a chance to slow down. “I’m a fucked up person and… Jesus, this sounds so fucking three-years-ago of me, but I just don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Charlie said immediately, shifting and turning to sit directly in front of Alex. “Please look at me?”

Alex refused, keeping his gaze trained on the bare ground in front of him. Charlie didn’t budge, giving the boy time. Alex instead brought Charlie’s hand closer to him, clearing his throat.

“It’s taken me these last few years, thinking about the things I’ve done, and the person I was, and the kind of person I wanna be, I’m trying to be, to figure out what feels right for me to have in this life.” He tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand, who readily reciprocated. “I’ve… allowed myself an amount of happiness, moving forward, and you’re… too much for me.”

“Alex…”

“Charles Hayden.” Alex finally lifted his eyes to meet Charlie’s once again, a bitter smile gracing his soft face, “Sweet Charles. I can’t be that selfish. Not anymore. Not when being selfish almost ruined my entire life and everyone else’s around me. The people I actually gave a shit about.” His voice started to get caught in his throat, and he gave Charlie’s hand another squeeze. A tear built up in Alex’ eye, and it took everything in Charlie to not reach up and wipe it away before it fell. “I was… a scam artist,” he continued. “A thief. And I’m trying very hard to change that. I feel like I’m finally on a path that’s safe, and feels like what I deserve for what I’m worth. Getting to keep you, too? It’s too much. I’d spend my whole life giving as much of myself as I can, and it still wouldn’t feel enough to afford you. It’d feel too much of like what I was.”

“Selfish?” Charlie asked after a moment.

Alex nodded. “A thief,” he confirmed. “Like I’d have kept something from the world that never should have been mine in the first place. Precious. The way you are.” He tore his eyes away from Charlie’s and trained them to the smattering of trees in the distance.

Charlie was speechless. All this time, the inconsistency, the distance - it wasn’t that Alex was drifting away from him, it’s that he’d been fighting for him. Fighting himself to hold on to this. And he’d convinced himself he’d already lost the fight.

Charlie scooted forward so that their shoulders touched but he could still face Alex. He worked up the nerve to lift up his hand and gently caress Alex’ cheek. Feeling Charlie’s hand against his skin, he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Charlie could feel the faint pulse against Alex’ jaw, and it was racing as fast as his. It took his breath away when Alex opened his eyes back up. He’d never seen them so open and…

“I’m scared,” Alex whispered, searching Charlie’s face.

“Of what?” Charlie asked, tenderly, taking the chance to wipe away the tear that had just fallen from Alex’ eye. “Of me?” Alex just stared back at him, as if scared to even speak.

“I’m scared I’ll ruin you. Somehow. Like I did them. I’ll make another fucking mistake and then…” He didn’t continue. Charlie didn’t notice it at first, but when they leaned their foreheads together and closed their eyes, he could feel Alex’ more labored breaths against his face as the smaller boy rubbed his own chest through his shirt. He gave Alex more time - to get his breath even, to get his mind to stop racing, and to get him to look at him once more. It took maybe ten minutes this time, their heads together and eyes remained closed, and Charlie snaking his hand around the back of Alex’ head and combing through his hair, humming a tune so softly until Alex eventually leaned up and looked at Charlie again.

“You’re not going to ruin me,” Charlie finally replied. “I’m not so easily breakable, you know that.”

“That’s not what I thought when I saw you lying on the ground, unconscious.”

Charlie chuckled. “And you saved my life, see? Literally the opposite of ruining me.”

“I didn’t save your life, I moved you like two inches before the car explo-“

“My point is,” Charlie cut him off, bringing his other hand up to Alex’ face, keeping their gaze steady, “that I feel safe with you, Alex. I can trust you. You’ve gone through so much, and you keep moving with love. You’re… amazing to me.

“You don’t have to go through life… without me. We can move forward together. And if you make a mistake, I’ll let you fix it… but only if you let me do the same. Or, we could decide right now to fix it together. Whatever wrong thing happens. We could be in this together, Alex. Please.” He leaned in to close the distance and gave the boy the softest kiss, relieving Alex’ shoulders of its weight and letting him breathe into it, lighter and more alive. Alex grabbed onto Charlie’s arms desperately, grasping tightly to his sweater. And when the two broke away, they stayed close, breathing each other’s air.

The first time Alex reached up and snaked his hand around Charlie’s head, nestling it in his hair, it sent shivers down Charlie’s skin and woke up the little hairs at the back of his neck and around his arms.

“It’s going to be difficult,” Alex said. “I might make it difficult.”

Charlie clicked his tongue and smiled. “Not on purpose, I hope.”

“Of course not.” Alex’ eyebrows turned to knots once again, and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh and thumb the wrinkles back down.

“Difficult is a normal thing. So, we can just be normal. And I’m really looking forward to that.” Charlie kissed the tip of his nose, and it was the first time in days that he’d seen Alex’ smile reach his glistening, cloudy blue eyes. “There we go,” he whispered before giving Alex a chaste kiss.

“This conversation isn’t over, by the way,” Alex said.

“And I’d keep talking to you for as long as you want me to.” Charlie smiled.

“Do you… wanna come back home with me? My parents are out for the night, so… we could talk there? Maybe you could sleep over?” He seemed uncertain to Charlie, but that Alex wanted to bring him home to any extent warmed his chest. He shot up out of the ground and dusted off the back of his pants, and offered his hand to help Alex up.

Alex rolled his eyes and flashed him another smile before taking his hand, letting himself be pulled up, once again surprised at how strong Charlie truly was. And as they walked to Charlie’s car, and as his hand received a reassuring squeeze, Alex figured Charlie to be stronger than he’d given him credit for, and that maybe being a little less afraid wouldn’t be so bad.

[kittybellestark]

Peter Parker Went Silent

TW: Small description of rape, mentions of suicide, and dissociation 

It was a gradual thing. Everyday he just became more silent, he started speaking less and less as time went on. It was just slow enough that no one noticed as it was happening. It just seemed normal as it was happening that no one saw he was silent until weeks later. 

It was a lab day when it finally clicked with Tony that Peter hasn’t spoken, in a really long time. Music was blasting at a comfortable volume, and Tony could hear Peter’s leg bouncing, knee hitting the workbench then heel bouncing off the ground. 

“How was school Pete?” Tony asked, eyeing the kid carefully.

Peter shrugged, hardly looking up from what he was doing, not making any eye contact.

“Anything special happen?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Anything special on Patrol?”

Peter shakes his head again. 

“What about Ted and MJ?” Tony goaded, knowing that calling Ned the wrong name would lead to Peter correcting him. “Anything interesting happen to them?”

Peter just shrugs again, and Tony sighs. 

“Are you okay, Peter?” Tony settles on.

Peter hesitates for a moment before nodding. Tony drops the conversation for now, deciding to find out what could be causing this another way. 

~~~~

As Tony had gathered information from Peter’s friends and Aunt, it became even more glaringly obvious that something was very, very, wrong with Peter.  He wasn’t eating anywhere’s near as much as he used to, hasn’t said a word in weeks, won’t hang out with his friends anymore, almost never home, and when Peter was home he was sleeping. His patrols were shorter, and Spider-Man wasn’t talking either, instead Peter was relying on Karen to just understand which web combinations he’ll need at what time.

“Harley, any chance you know what’s happening with Peter?”

“He was acting strange before he broke up with me, but I figured it was because he wanted to break things off. Haven’t seen him since then why?”

“He doesn’t talk, or eat anymore. He just exists for a little while, disappears for a bit then sleeps. He’s not Peter anymore.”

Harley seemed surprised but what he was hearing. While he felt he had known Peter pretty well, considering they had dated, everything just seemed out of character for him. 

“Okay, thanks Harley, if you do see him and notice anything strange, could you just let me know?”

With that Tony left Harley to cultivate a new plan. 

~~~~

Stupid Tony. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is a bad plan. A really bad plan. He really should have given it more thought that he had. Following Peter after school when in disguise was a really bad idea. Can he be arrested for this? He’s just looking out for his kid, his kid who hasn’t been himself forever now. His kid who he neglected to realize something was wrong. 

So here he is in a disguise and a really high quality mask over his face that makes it so no one realizes that he’s Tony Stark. Following his damn kid, because Peter has said nothing to him or anyone about what is going on in his life.

Tony watches as Peter leaves the school, hood up over his head, headphones on, and his head down. He walked slowly, like he didn’t want what was coming for him, but has resigned himself to whatever it is. 

Another man, large, starting to bald with a bushy beard came out from around a corner matching his pace with Peter’s and walking besides him. Peter’s shoulders tensed up for a moment before dropping again, as he continued his journey.

Tony continued to follow as Peter and this other man seemed to be on the same path, almost walking in-step with each other. They has seemed to come to their destination, the man giving Peter a little bit of a nudge before opening a door to an apartment complex that looked half falling down, ready to have a sign with the word ‘CONDEMNED’ written on it. 

Peter paused for a moment as the door was held open for him. Peter looked around the streets, maybe looking for something or maybe someone before dropping his head, walking in as his one arm was grabbed.

Tony walked up to the door trying it, but it was locked. Tapping on his glasses and activating FRIDAY. His anxiety spiking, not knowing what was happening behind closed doors. 

“FRI, tell me where Peter is, now.” Tony grit out, pacing the front of the building.

“Peter Parker appears to be on the top floor towards the back of the building. There is a fire escape that should give you direct access to the room he’s in.”

Tony nodded, looking for an easy way to get to the back, finding the only way was through an alley half a block away. Tony started the trek, wishing that he could already be there, not feeling comfortable leaving Peter alone for this much longer than he wished to be.

“Boss, I’m sending out a medical team to you location, and advised Ms Romanoff and Mr Barnes to make their way over to your location as well.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I currently have visuals on Peter, and you need to prepare yourself. He’ll need a lot of support after today and you’ll need to be there, Boss.”

Tony bursts into a run at those words, feeling the uneasiness take over his being, as he turned the corner and into the alley, looking for the right fire escape before pulling down the ladder and climbing it at record speed. 

“Tony, do you copy us?” Natasha voice came through FRIDAY.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys got here fast.”

“Do you know what the situation is?” Barnes asked.

“No idea, but FRIDAY think its really bad, I just go to the window where Peter and the other guy is.”

Tony paused for a moment, before peeking up over the window sill and looking in. 

Peter was face down on a counter, his head turned towards the window that Tony was looking in, his eyes were glassy and unseeing, tears streaming down his face. Peter wasn’t wearing any clothing, his body covered in bruises and welts. He was being jerked forwards and pulled back again a rhythm set by the man behind him abusing Peter.

Tony dropped back down as to not be seen from the next piece of Iron Man Roadkill.

“I’m going to kill him. Gonna make it a nice slow death, really gonna kill him.” Tony muttered, peeling the mask off his face, wanting the man who is hurting his kid to know who is killing him. 

“I need someone here right now before I take his head off and throw it into the East River.” 

Tony grabbed his watch pulling it into a gauntlet, before breaking in the window. It worried Tony how Peter continued to not react, where the other man knew he was caught, pulling away from Peter, and tucking himself back into his pants, and trying to make a run for it. Tony blasted him with his repulsor, forcing the man to the ground. 

Natasha and Barnes kicked the door down, guns pointed at the man on the ground advising Tony to go to Peter. Tony nods, turning back to his broken kid, who stayed exactly in his position half on and half off the counter. Tony went around the counter to be in front of Peter’s face. 

“Peter? Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s Tony, you like to call me Mr Stark for some forsaken reason. Things are going to be okay now, right? You can come back to us whenever you feel safe, okay?” Tony made sure to not touch Peter, not wanting to scare him any further.

Peter’s eyes still held no sign of Peter actually being present at the time, which Tony was sure was probably for the best right now as the medical team showed up. Thankfully FRIDAY sent Helene Cho and her team, and not someone that Tony didn’t trust with everything he had in them. 

“Stark, you know we’re going to have to do a Rape Kit, right? It’d be best to do it as soon as possible before we have to clean the evidence off of him.” Helene spoke, before moving on to Peter, speaking softly to him. 

It felt like a century before Peter was finally being loaded in the of the Med-Evac van and being brought to the tower, as SHIELD took pictures and collected evidence of the ‘altercation’ that happened in the apartment. 

~~~~

“Where’s Peter?” May asked Tony, as Tony met her in the lobby of the tower.

“He’s in the Medbay. He doesn’t look good, May. He’s not even responsive right now, it’s really bad.” Tony explained, leading her up to where Peter is being kept.

“Who did this to my baby? I’ll kill them with my bare hands.” May’s face was red, as she shook her head. She had a bag of some comfort items that Peter’s used in the past, having being told what happened earlier on the phone. 

“His name is Scott Wescott.” Tony answered. “He was an in-”

“Inmate at Queens Detention Facility. Prosecuted for sexually assaulting a minor, who was Peter by the way. Pardoned 3 months ago on good behavior. But he goes by Skip. I’m going to kill him.” 

“Wait, he’s done this to Peter before?”

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice, again. I’m supposed to be his guardian, but then this doesn’t just happen to Peter once, but twice. It was all the same signs, I just thought this time it was because Skip got released, not because he was going through the same trauma again.”

“It’s not your fault, May, we all should have noticed that something was up with him. Peter started to shut us all out, he probably didn’t want any of us to know.”

May nodded as they finally made it to Peter’s room. Tony opened the door for her letting her in as he went in after May. Peter’s eyes were still blank as he was placed on the bed in a sitting position. Helene had said Peter has disassociated in a way to protect himself and that it may take him a little while to come out of it.

May had walked up to Peter, speaking softly to him, starting to pull some items out of the bag. First was a sweater that she put around Peter’s shoulders, then a thick knit blanket, and a stuffed bear. There was a few other things that she pulled out as well, but nothing seemed to work, Peter just continued to sit there.

 “I’m going to go get us some coffee, I’ll be right back.” Tony spoke softly to May, before getting up from his seat and leaving Peter’s room. 

Tony made it to elevator before feeling himself start to crack. He pinched his nose, holding in his breath and counting to 10 and breathing out, trying to compartmentalize these emotions away, until a time that Peter doesn’t need him.

“Tony, why didn’t you tell me Peter was in the MedBay? Was it from patrol or did something else happen? Why didn’t you call me?” Harley asked as soon as the elevator doors opened again, following Tony into the kitchen. 

“Harls, I just left Peter’s room. I don’t know if he wants you to see him the way he is right now. He’s conscience but mentally in a really bad spot right now. Not to throw salt in the wound, but he probably broke up with you because he didn’t want you to see him when all this started.” 

“When all this started? You can’t say things like that without letting me see him. Please Tony, I still care about him a lot, please let me see him, just for like 5 minutes.” Harley begged as his accent got thicker and voice started to crack, his face getting redder. 

“I’ll ask May, she’s his guardian and gets to make the final decision on these things. Now help me make some coffee for May and I. Maybe some hot cocoa for yourself and Peter too, I wanna try and get him to ingest something.”

They make the drinks and make their way back downstairs to the MedBay. Harley stops outside of Peter’s room as Tony steps back in. Peter is still unresponsive, but May grabs the coffee from him and giving an attempt of a smile.

“There’s a love sick Tennessee boy out there hoping to get the chance to see Peter. He told only wants five minutes, I told him you got the final word on visitation.”

“Yeah, better for him to see Peter then wonder what Peter is like right now. Let him in.”

“Harley, you can come in.” Tony called out.

The teen boy stumbled into the room, holding a hot cocoa for himself and one for Peter. He stopping in his tracks, seeing the blank look on Peter’s face, how Peter wasn’t registering anything, that he was essentially a shell of who everyone grew to know Peter to be.

“Peter?” Harley barely whispered.

Harley seemed to crack, moving forward and putting the two drinks on the beside table and moving to Peter’s side. Harley rest a hand on Peter’s cheek, whispering his name again. This time Peter’s eyes snapped to attention, watching Harley with fear in his eyes, shaking his head as he pushed himself away. 

“Hey, baby. Baby you’re okay, no one is going to hurt you anymore. You’re safe it’s okay.” May spoke quickly as Harley pulled his hand away from Peter’s face. 

Peter turned to her, his eyes wide and watery as he tried his hardest not to sob, soothing himself back down into a calmer but anxiety filled state. Peter took the opportunity to look around the room, gaining the bearing of where he is. After a few moments Peter turned onto his side, making himself small and going to sleep.

~~~~

“Peter, I’ve been your therapist for the last two months, and while we’ve made a lot of progress you’ve still not spoken yet. Is there any reason why?”

Today was a group therapy session, the therapist felt it was important for those to happen twice a month until some major improvements were made in Peter’s mental health. The therapy had been grueling on Peter. For the first few sessions he would only shrug or choose not to respond, but now he seemed to nod of shake his head, pointing at things when he felt was necessary. 

Group therapy only ever consisted of Peter, Tony and May, the ones deemed the most ‘affected’ by the situation. (Mainly because May was Peter’s guardian and Tony was like his Dad, so maybe it was more like family therapy sessions rather than group therapy, but they never named themselves a family.

Peter sighed at the question given to him, looking up at the ceiling and moving his head from side to side in consideration. He wanted to speak, wanted to talk again, but it seemed so hard. It seemed nearly impossible. Skip didn’t want him to tell people what happened. And Peter didn’t know how to tell anyone. Suddenly nothing good has happening anymore, and Peter was running out of words. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.

Peter took a sip of his water.

“No one- no one noticed what happened.” Peter’s voice was rough, felt like he was swallowing sand paper. It crackled and popped, dropping in pitch before rising again. It wasn’t his voice at all, but his voice all the same. “Promised it would never happen again. Then it did, and I was gonna tell May, I swear, I swear, but she wasn’t home, worked a double the second first time it happened. Then it happened the next day, and that was May’s night for an evening shift. And then it happened again and I was supposed to go out with Harley. Then weekend at the compound, and it was a break from everything. I couldn’t tell anyone. No one noticed. Felt like I was dying everyday, and everyone is happy and smiling and not noticing that something was wrong and that I want to die. It was never supposed to happen again, but it kept happening and no one noticed. No one noticed what was happening.”

May burst into tears, wiping her face as she kept apologizing on repeat. Tony held her hand trying to comfort her the best he can. He wiped away a few stray tears of his own, wishing he’d noticed sooner, that he wasn’t so full of himself that it cost Peter so much of his own life. But this wasn’t a pity session for May or Tony, it was about healing the fragmented pieces of Peter’s heart and moving forward from this all again.

“So you believe it’s hard to speak, because no one noticed you were being raped? That no one noticed that you were pulling into yourself? Because no one noticed you hardly ate and didn’t leave your apartment unless necessary.” The therapist said and Peter nodded. “I think you’ve not spoken until now because you didn’t believe you were worth saving, and you believed you deserved what you were getting. You didn’t believe you were worth saving, but now that you were saved, now that you just spoke, Peter I think you’re starting to believe you’re worth saving too.”

[toongrrl-blog]

Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s. 

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons). 

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd. 

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season. 

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy. 

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves. 

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses. 

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate. 

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered. 

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was. 

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men. 

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function. 

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner. 

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband. 

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy. 

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents. 

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”. 

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper. 

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome. 

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts. 

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s. 

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!). 

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor. 

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are. 

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife. 

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case. 

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed. 

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off.  As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies). 

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him). 

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family. 

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings. 

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring. 

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here. 

Also points on that bolder shade of pink. 

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point). 

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent. 

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly. 

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on. 

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition. 

[pixiealtaira]

Checking It Twice

Hummel Holidays day 19: shopping 2016

pairing: Kadam of course...

“What do you want for Christmas, Adam?” Kurt called from the kitchen as he was making lunch one afternoon.

“It’s August.  I haven’t thought about it.”

“Can you think about it so I can finish my shopping list?  I mean I know I’ll have to add some things closer to Christmas, but I’d like my main shopping done by the start of October.”

“You’re doing your Christmas shopping now?” Adam asked.

Kurt snorted.  He came out and stood next to where Adam had been working on a paper.

“I started my Christmas shopping for this Christmas on the 26th of December last Christmas.” Kurt said. “I get better deals this way.  In May, I found 80 dollar cashmere scarves on sale for 6 bucks…men’s scarves.  They also had hats and gloves, good gloves, on sale as well.  And 90 dollar women’s basic longer length cable knit sweaters in nice solid colors…for 2 bucks.  No snags or holes or anything…just out of season.  But Carole doesn’t care and neither do most girls I know, so those were a great find.  And I got the Kitchen aid mixer Carole’s been wanting…for 1/3 the price because the color is now out of fashion.”

“Well, there are some board games I’d like to get…and I’ve been wanting to pick up my cello again but I need lessons and haven’t gotten around to getting those.  And my cello won’t be getting here until Christmas when it comes with my family.  Oh…my family will be here, so tickets to things we could do.”

“Your family will be here?” Kurt said quietly.

“Yes.  Remember, I asked if you were staying so you could meet them?”

Kurt nodded.

“I think I thought you meant over Skype or something.  I need names and likes and lists, Adam. I need lists!  Who will be here?  Who is staying in England?  Sizes? Colors they look good in? Allergies?  Kids?  Kids will need presents under the tree.”  Kurt was sounding more and more frantic as he went on.

“Darling, Hush now!” Adam said.

Kurt stopped and breathed deeply.

“It’s just…I have to make a good impression, Adam.  I love you…and if they don’t like me, then what?” Kurt asked.

Adam smiled and pulled Kurt down to him, kissing him deeply before pulling back and kissing Kurt’s nose. “I would tell them all where to go. I love you and my family’s opinion won’t change that. Got it?”

Kurt nodded. “Got it.”

“Grab a pencil…and some paper.” Adam said, pushing Kurt up again.  He waited until Kurt was back with a notebook and pulled Kurt into his lap fully.  “Now, number one…everyone is flying in so not a lot of things or a lot of big things. I’d tell you nothing at all, but I know you my dear…and that would not happen.”

“Hey!”

“Can you actually convince me otherwise?”

Kurt shook his head.

“I thought not. Number two...you, my love, are helping me entertain them for TWO WEEKS…consider that.”

Kurt nodded.

“And finally…my family already adores you because I believe you hang the moon and the stars and that the sun revolves around you. You wouldn’t need to get them anything. However…my family are such huge tourists.  Seriously…get them all New York things and everyone would be happy.  Anything with New York splattered across it.”

Kurt glared at Adam, who laughed.

“You can glare at me now…but when the littles are looking at you asking for a New York bottle opener…you’ll see.”

“Bottle opener?” Kurt asked.

Adam nodded. “It had an apple on it.  Their mother intervened…it was pokey.”

Kurt laughed.

“So…who will be here?”

“My mother and father, my grandparents, and two of three siblings and their families.  Ava is the only one who will not be able to make it.” Adam said.

“Ava is the one closest in age to you, right?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, she is taking classes during the winter break. She is two years younger than me.”

“Close to my age, then?”

Adam nodded. “Emily is four years older than me and she has three kids.  Twins, Piper and Philippa and  Thor.  Thor is about a year and half…and the twins turn four in January.  Her husband is Ashton. Paul is seven years older than me. He has Evelyn who is seven and Joselyn who is five.  They are from his first marriage.  His current wife is Pansy.  She brought with her Luke.  He is seven as well.  They have Briar, who is maybe 6 months…but I don’t think even that old…and they’ve been married three months.”

“Is Paul’s first wife in the picture?”

“No.  They were divorced when she died though…and the girls hadn’t even lived with her alone.  She died here in the states from a drug overdose.  She left Paul only a few months after Joselyn was born…just took off one day.  There is actually a wife between the girls’ mum and Pansy…but they didn’t have kids.”

“What do the kids like?”

“Evelyn loves to read. She asked for those American Girls books?  I don’t know what they are…”

“Historical fiction.  They have dolls, too.  They wear period clothing, sort of.”

“Anyway…she is fascinated with those.  Last I knew, all Joselyn liked was swords. I’ll have to ask my mum if her tastes have broadened. Luke hates everything. Piper and Philippa I have no idea about other than Philippa will only wear yellows and purples and black and jeans. Piper wears everything.  Not a clue about Thor…they were here last December but Thor was not even sitting up on his own yet.  He is no longer bald.  That I do know.  I’m not sure I’ve even seen more than one picture of Briar…and that was right after she was born. Pansy is high maintenance. Paul is just high strung…that one needs a real vacation. Ashton’s a bit of a snob and Emily is just….Emily.”

“What ever does that mean?”

“She would say that she is forgettable.  She isn’t very good at anything or very bad at anything.  She isn’t ugly or beautiful.  Just is just average in all she does.  Emily manages…she manages her family and mom and dad and the grandparents and clubs and community gatherings and parties and events.  And she organizes.  A bit like you in that area.  I bet she has her shopping nearly done as well.”

Kurt nodded and wrote down notes of everything Adam had told him.

“I suppose it is good that I have Black Friday between now and your family visiting.  Now…about your folks and grandparents…those might even be more important that your siblings and their kids.”

“My Nan is a bit…chipper. Much to chipper for her own good or anyone else’s really.  Da says she was always that way and people had just best get used to it and don’t ever make her cry because it breaks everyone’s hearts until she is cheery again.  She likes chocolate, but not American so don’t go with that.  She likes warm and soft and fizzy things and paints and scrapbooks in an elaborate fashion.   Pops likes gardening and has a small professional photography business.  He takes photos of people’s pets.  Rarely people.  My father is of course a barrister and plays in the symphony orchestra. Da likes darts and would like to go bowling while here and also try out laser tag.”

Kurt chuckled.

“My mum likes quilting and singing, but she does neither very well.  She is good at cooking and works at a local bakery. She wants to be that Duff cake guy when she grows up…her words not mine.  She is an avid reader and will read pretty much anything. Her father is a retired professor and taught anthropology.  He specialized in the Romans.  Her mother taught as well, in primary school to the littlest ones.  She likes Darts and is a card shark.  They go gambling at least twice a year somewhere and my grandmother almost always comes home with more than they went with.”

Kurt smiled.

“They sound nice.”

“They sound a wee bit nuts, because they are.  But they already adore you and will love you completely before they go home…and then drag you with us on next summer’s excursion. Mother wants to go to a rodeo…and all the grandparents want to see some of the more famous national parks. They’ve been saving for years and years.”

Kurt laughed.

“I’ve never been to any of them. It could be fun.”

“We’ll have to hike with youngsters and buy souvenirs.”

“We should see if my dad and Carole want to go to, if your family still likes me at the end of the two weeks.  He’s always wanted to go to Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone.”

Adam beamed. “That would be wonderful.”

“So…will you help me with the shopping for them?”

“Of course, love.  I actually adore shopping with you.”

Kurt beamed.  “Now, what do you want for Christmas?”

Adam laughed.

“You, and a stocking full of goodies just for us and a hide away to play with them for a week…but that will have to wait for after Christmas…so…all I want for Christmas is you.” Adam sang the last bit to Kurt.

Kurt groaned. “Cheesy, my dear heart.  Now you are getting socks and underwear.”

Adam pulled Kurt in for more kissing.  “Don’t care if I have you, too.  Is lunch done?  Or rather…can lunch be postponed until…oh…a few hours from now…after we have retired to the bed for playtime and then come back out?”

Kurt smiled.  “I was just making sandwiches and they can be put in the fridge.  Let me up and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.  We should have a more in depth discussion about what you’d like in your stocking after all.”

Adam released Kurt and watched as he sauntered to the kitchen.  He saved his paper and raced to the bedroom…he had a few examples of things he’d like in his stocking to find before Kurt joined him.