#the incredible ‘it’s a good night for our household’ energy like do you think they live near each other with each other bc they both got tr-

[tired-old-men]

"So!" Cedar pipes up, grinning happily as he hobbles over with his cane, "Not much of you Guardians compared to my family, huh? I'm curious. Got any photos or stories of your elders? Do love me some old vintage photos and learning some strange history!" He giggled, "I love peaking at ones in my family myself! hehe!".

Hawking makes his way to the small yellow echidna in his wheelchair, holding a photo album in his lap. 

“Ah this I could answer for ya lad! Me and Spectre are what’s left of the ‘Old Guard’ of Guardians, per se. While I may be too old to continue being the Head of Household my grandson has done quite the tremendous job upholding the mantle. But man, when I was active in my duties I worked alongside some incredible people I am proud to call family”

He gently pats the photo album in his lap before levitating it with his chaos abilities towards Cedar to better display the photographs.

“Let’s see what we got here, and take this old man on a trip through memory lane....”

“First and foremost, we have our First appointed Guardian Steppenwolf. He’s the one that began our group many years ago after the untimely death of his father from the uprising of the Dark Legion.  His legacy surpasses all of ours with how much he’s done not only for this Island but for his family as well. He always had such a strong stoic demeanor, even in his old age he was wise and headstrong. I believe if we were to compare families, he would be the equivalent of that Shepherd of yours from what I hear.”

“Then there was his son Moonwatcher.  He was quite eccentric especially in comparison to his father. This picture in particular was captured from his first visit to our base, Haven, a father and son like night and day I tell you.  He was obsessed with this space show of his, when I was young he would have been about as old as I am now, and he would still be watching that show, even when blindness took over he would still listen to the episodes  having them memorized by heart. He always had this bright energy to him just always upbeat and ready to tackle the day. While he certainly was aloof he was a good guy, very openminded about social change, and had a great mind for the stars, he almost became the first echidna in space, believe it or not.”

“Moonwatcher’s son was another 180 in terms of personality between father and son. Unlike his father Harlan was very stoic, he  had one of those faces of someone not to be messed with, but that was just his general appearance. He’d mastered the art of meditation to strengthen and channel his chaos abilities, so he was always very introspected and had a great sense of wisdom. Sometimes he would give you advice or even a small piece of wisdom that would really make you think, I always came to cherish that about him”

Hawking flips over the page to this photograph and his face lights up.  “Ah this, this was the pinnacle of the Old Guard! This was quite the historical moment for us. When Harlan’s son Rembrandt came up with a monicker for us ‘The Brotherhood of Guardians’. A small change but an accepted consensus between us that solidified our bonds as Guardians, as well as a symbol of upholding our commitment to this Island, and all life that inhibits it”

The old echidna stumbles upon this image and gives a hardy chuckle. “Ohoho! Oooh good times good times! That was me and my old man Mathias back in our prime, we did such great work together. All my wisdom and skills I owe it all to my old man, for shaping me into the man I became.  Although I have to say it’s so interesting seeing him like this, the older he got the more he began following in Harlans teachings, delving deeper into the chaos force and strengthening his bond with it through meditation. He began wearing these long intricate robes, his demeanor was a lot more calm, and there was this aura about him that was hard to describe but very much felt. He truly was an incredible man on all fronts, I’d like to think that even to this day.. I feel like he watches over me” He smiles.

Hawking flips through a couple of pages until he lands on a particular image that makes his eyes soften, a sheepish smile escaping his lips as he reminisces on the image for a moment before speaking. “This… this was a special moment for me. There I was alongside my son Tobor and his lovely wife Voni-Ca, and can you believe that little ball of sunshine is my dear grandson Spectre? He looked so different as a small boy, quite the curious little puggle he was! …This photo is particularly special since it was the day I had the honor of passing on the mantle of Guardian to my son. It was a very proud moment for us all…” Hawking took another long look at the photograph, his eyes beginning to show a hint of sadness, he clears his throat as he flips through another couple of pages to a different Guardian all together. 

“My granddaughter needs no introduction, for I’m sure Thunderhawk has spoken about her greatness many a times, but she was truly a delight to this world.  Janelle-Li was relentless and surpassed any challenge that was ever imposed on her. I can’t deny she had an uphill battle in earning the title of Guardian, but she blew everyone out of the water with her sheer determination alone. She was truly one of the best of us and gave us a perspective like no other.  Here we have her guiding her son Athair when he was just a young lad. He's also was quite the eccentric echidna himself, but his mother had such a patience with him, really guided him right and supported him in his endeavors regardless of how silly others might have found it. Besides being an amazing Guardian she was a wonderful mother, she even help raise Sabre when he was a young Guardian. Really set him right and gave him the much needed love and guidance when he moved away from his parents and his tribe to live on Angel Island.”

Hawking slowly brings the album back to his hands, holding it open in his lap for a last long look before closing it gently, placing a palm over the cover fondly. 

“Ah- I hope that gave you an answer to your inquiry lad, give you some insight of my family members past, or at the very least got something interesting out of letting this old man ramble on.” Hawking gives Cedar a hardy chuckle. 

“Truly a pleasure talking to ya lad, feel free to drop by anytime for a chat.” 

[crossbackpoke-check]

glenny with the chain (x) | 04.16.22

@crossbackpoke-check is for u 🥺

[rocorambles]

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

[beca-mitchell]

little taste of heaven (i'm caught up in you) (1/1)

Summary: now i see daylight AU - Beca and Chloe’s first date, finally. 

Word count: 3.9k

For @anna-kendrick​: We've worked on this universe for the past year and holy, it means the world to both of us that you guys love Beca and Chloe as much as we do. Thank you so much for the encouragement and love, always.And of course, again, thank you to Josi who is an incredibly talented artist. Look at this art.

title from "untouchable (taylor's version)" though I did heavily consider using "our song"...i just liked the energy of untouchable a bit more.

Read below or on AO3!

* * * * *

AGE: 15/16 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: June

 * * * * *

 It is finally June. The warm air is only a hint of better things to come. Like the last day of school before total freedom.

Beca smiles at Chloe as she nears Beca’s locker. “Hey,” she greets. “Good practice?”

Around them, students mill about excitedly, cleaning out their lockers and making plans for the summer to come. Chloe shrugs, hair clearly still damp from her shower. “I don’t know why we keep running through practices when we have no more games for the season.”

“Got to keep the regional champions in top shape,” Beca teases. “Keep the other teams on their toes.”

“But I’m tired,” Chloe complains. She leans heavily on a neighboring locker. “Since it's the last day of school, will you come over tonight for dinner? My parents are whining about how they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Beca clears her throat, thinking about how the last time she had gone over to Chloe’s house had been when Chloe and Tom broke up...at the end of April. Over a month ago. She had gone because Chloe had been crying and upset. She had gone because even if her body ached with the anxiety of not knowing where she and Chloe stood, she and Chloe were always going to be friends first. Best friends.

Best friends who felt something more than friendship for each other. Confirmed, real feelings. Feelings that made them want to kiss each other.

Feelings that they hadn’t yet talked about. Or acted on despite both of them being extremely single at the moment.

Hell, Chloe's birthday came and went a couple weeks ago without much fanfare. Beca had been too shy to do anything remotely romantic and they ended up going to a movie with a few friends before going to an arcade.

“Bec?”

Beca nods stiltedly, pretending to contemplate her now-empty locker a bit more before turning to face Chloe. She steadies herself with a quick breath. “I’d love nothing more.”

 * * * * *

 Beca stares at her reflection with some trepidation.

“It’s just Chloe,” she mutters to herself, eyes tracking over every crease in the skirt she has picked out. Maybe I should go with jeans, she thinks. But it’s gross and hot out today.

She isn’t even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like a return to normalcy of sorts, but Beca’s pretty sure that now that she knows what it feels like to kiss Chloe and what it feels like, a little bit at least, to know that Chloe feels somewhat similarly to her. It’s different. In a good way. Maybe it’s different in a scary way.

She isn’t even sure she can bring up the topic with her mother, so that’s an added layer of uncertainty: it’s additionally anxiety-inducing not knowing how her mother will react.

It’s well past the time that Beca should have already walked out the door to head next door by the time she actually forces herself out of her bedroom and down the stairs, but she figures Chloe will understand. And dinner is rarely ever prepared at the exact time stated in the Beale household anyway. Beca’s not too worried. Just nervous.

She finally reaches out to press the doorbell.

Chloe opens the door almost immediately. “Thought you got lost,” she teases.

“Were you just waiting behind the door?” Beca asks quickly, allowing Chloe to grab her wrist and pull her over the threshold.

“And if I was?” Chloe shoots back, offering Beca a lazy smile, playful in nature. With an underlying hint of something else.

Beca blinks the surprise away. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were waiting for me. Just sorry I kept you waiting,” she offers.

“Dinner’s not ready anyway,” Chloe says, as Beca expected. They breeze past the living room area, taking a mild detour past the kitchen and towards the back porch. “I might have told you a slightly earlier time because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Chloe says lightly.

“Should I say hi to your parents?” Beca asks worriedly before it registers what Chloe just said. “Wait, what? Talk to me about what?”

“Come sit with me,” Chloe says instead. Patiently. She gestures towards the tree - the tree they used to play under all the time as children - nestled in the corner of the backyard.

It’s one of Beca’s favorite spots.

She follows Chloe, wondering if it’s too late to run home and change into her jeans because she’s sure the grass and sticks will prick at her skin, but she’s surprised, as they near, that there is a small blanket laid out underneath.

Chloe had planned for this.

“Please sit,” Chloe offers. She sits comfortably, patting the spot next to her. “I had a feeling you’d dress up a little. Didn’t want you to get a dress dirty.” Her eyes drift down to Beca’s skirt briefly before she lifts her eyes, smiling at Beca. Beca doesn’t feel self-conscious, shockingly. She feels content. Safe.

Maybe a little warm if anything, but she knows that’s probably the proximity to the girl she’s been crushing on for the longest time.

“I...wanted to talk to you because we haven’t...really talked. About...y’know.” A hint of nervousness creeps into Chloe’s voice. “When we kissed and then Tom…” she hesitates. “We just didn’t get to talk about anything. And now the school year’s pretty much over, so I thought…”

“Right,” Beca agrees quickly. Her palms begin to sweat. She sure as hell hopes Chloe doesn’t expect her to lead this conversation. It was mortifying enough the first time around when she had basically laid everything on the line while Chloe was still dating somebody else. When Chloe had left her with nothing more than a heartfelt, vulnerable don’t give up on me. Then she had broken up with Tom and that was all their school could talk about for weeks.

And now this. Somehow Beca survived all of that while slowly making sure her friendship with Chloe survived as well. They both made sure of that.

“I like you,” Chloe declares. “I mean...I think I always did. Like you, I mean. As more than a friend. But the feelings were really confusing.”

“I get it,” Beca says a little too quickly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, laughing a little when Chloe smiles at her. “I feel like I haven’t stopped thinking about this for a while. But I never wanted you to feel pressured to talk about this with me even though we kissed.” She ignores the way her voice totally cracks over that last word.

“I never felt pressured,” Chloe assures her gently. “I am so...grateful that you’re in my life. I didn’t want to mess this up. But I think we should...try.”

“Try?” Beca echoes.

Chloe blushes. Like a full-on blush that spreads across her cheeks, visible to Beca even in the dying daylight. It makes her cheeks rosy and Chloe even flinches at her own reaction. “Dating,” she says simply once she seems to regain control of her emotions. “I want to go on dates with you. And hold your hand. And more kissing! If that’s what you want.”

Beca’s sure that her heart explodes somewhere in her chest because she suddenly finds it very difficult to control various parts of her body. She can’t control the smile that spreads across her face and the following, matching blush in her cheeks. It heats through her face with ease. And even worse, she can’t control the way her hand comes up to her mouth as if to instinctively cover her smile because somehow being thrilled that her crush is basically asking her out making her body react in embarrassing ways.

Chloe laughs at her, not a hint of malice in her laugh. Just joy. “I take that as a yes. Thank God, I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince my parents to move away.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Finally. Teasing. She can do that. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me. You like me too much.”

Chloe’s smile grows soft. “Well...yeah. I do. A lot.”

Beca’s breath catches. She’s sure she could kiss Chloe right now and the crazy part is, it wouldn’t even be totally weird. Or out there. Because they’re going to start dating. But maybe kissing Chloe again before their first date is frowned upon? Beca has no idea. She’s still only ever kissed one person and that person is sitting in front of her.

“Girls! Dinner!”

As if Chloe had been reading her mind and her intentions, Chloe shakes her head and stands, offering a hand to pull Beca up. When Beca stands, they’re somehow even closer - almost nose to nose - than they had been when they were sitting. “Saved by the bell,” Chloe whispers, breath close enough to be felt on Beca’s mouth.

 * * * * *

 The most interesting part is that Beca hadn’t really thought about any of this - dating Chloe - beyond just vague daydreams and fantasies about just some kind of happy utopia with Chloe by her side. It’s honestly not much different from their usual day-to-day considering how close they already are, but dating? Actual dating?

Her Google search history stares back at her accusingly.

dating tips dating best friend first date first date movies dating girl what to do

She supposes she could ask her mother, but even that brief thought makes her shrink away from her desk. Beca stands and begins pacing. She’s sure that she’s overthinking this all. That Chloe could probably care less about what they do on their first date. That Chloe’s probably just expecting them to spend time together, just the two of them. With more handholding. And maybe a kiss at the end of the night.

“Shit,” Beca mutters suddenly. She rushes back to her computer, adding another search to her list.

kiss on first date ok???

She frowns. Not quite.

kissing before first date acceptable

In the end, she is saved from her descent into a hole of online searching by a text from Chloe herself.

Chloe dinner tomorrow at south street? haven’t been downtown in a while

Beca i’m down!

The ease at which Beca replies does not at all reflect the somersaults in her stomach.

 * * * * *

 “Hey,” Chloe calls, putting her menu down. “Where’d you go just now?”

Beca blinks, realizing that she had glazed over the menu entirely, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Oh, just...contemplating…” her eyes land on the first item she sees. “Salad.” She can’t help the way her own nose wrinkles instinctively at the thought of eating salad.

Chloe is as intuitive as ever, smiling as she reaches across the table to touch Beca’s hand. “You hate salad. Especially here.”

Beca swallows, struck by both the normalcy and intimacy of Chloe’s touch. They’ve been friends for years—there is nothing extremely off-putting about them holding hands or even just randomly touching each other on the arm, shoulder, knee.

And yet—

Chloe draws her hand away, seemingly not at all aware of Beca’s inner turmoil this time. She refocuses on her menu. “Want me to order something for you?” she asks instead.

Beca nods, though she is surprised. “Sure.” Now she’s curious as to what Chloe will order for her. And if she’s being honest, it kind of makes her feel giddy, the thought of Chloe knowing her well-enough to order something. Not that Beca would even bother with telling Chloe that she’s wrong. She’d eat anything at this point, just to spend more time with Chloe.

It’s not even like they’re at a fancy restaurant. It’s a diner downtown. The bright retro designs all around plus the comfortable, plush booth seats are all appealing to Beca and she likes the general atmosphere.

But she kind of wants to just…

“Can I sit next to you?” she blurts out. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, resisting the urge to avoid Chloe’s curious gaze, which lifts to meet hers immediately.

Chloe grins. “I would want nothing more. Get over here.”

Beca nearly sags in relief, but focuses instead on moving around the booth so she and Chloe are sitting closer, now on side of the booth.

Beca focuses on the frequent piece of advice she had found through a few somewhat reliable Google results.

Hold her hand.

Beca does. She inches her pinky across the cool vinyl seats until she can feel Chloe’s against her finger. Then, she slips her hand over Chloe’s, gently hooking her fingers on Chloe’s palm until Chloe gets the idea.

Chloe’s hand flips slowly, their palms touching. Beca exhales, sliding her fingers between Chloe’s, already liking the easy, comfortable fit of their hands.

Chloe says nothing, content to enjoy the silence and familiarity just as Beca is content to allow her feelings to take over. For a moment, Chloe appears to be perusing the menu in silence, but there is a steadiness to the set of Chloe’s shoulders. Beca can tell, having been so attuned to Chloe’s characteristics for longer than she’d like to admit. For longer than even Chloe herself knows at this moment. She glances at her date—her date!—selfishly taking the moment to appreciate Chloe’s profile.

It’s something she has done so many times before, but this time...this time, in a diner outside of town with the soft clatter of dishes around them and Chloe’s soft, warm palm against her own, Beca knows this is different.

“You know,” Chloe starts awkwardly. “I...obviously don’t mind if you ordered on your own.”

Beca laughs. “Why’d you offer to then?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says, exasperation in her voice. She groans and hangs her head slightly. “I asked Max and-”

“You asked your brother what to do on a date with me?”

“No!” Chloe explains before she snorts. “I just...told him I was worried about impressing a girl. And I don’t know why, but I somehow thought he’d have some idea.” She grins a little, glancing at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Beca says distractedly. She’s more fixated on the fact that Chloe must have been truly desperate to have turned to her older brother for help.

“Oh and he totally guessed I was going out with you, by the way.”

That’s not something that thrills Beca too much. Her imagination immediately conjures up a comically exaggerated vision of Chloe’s brother threatening her with a knife. “How?” she asks. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He just kind of guessed and then said ‘finally’ or something like that.”

“Well, thank you for offering to order for me. It was very...chivalrous of you.”

“Please stop.”

“Quite charming.”

“Beca.”

“I can’t wait to see what other moves you try on me. Are we going to share one milkshake?”

“...no?”

 * * * * *

 They end up ordering two separate milkshakes because Beca sticks to her vanilla and Chloe orders chocolate.

“Try,” Chloe commands. “You always get vanilla. Chocolate is so good.”

Beca sighs, but obediently sticks her straw into Chloe’s cup despite Chloe’s protests of “contamination” and quickly takes a sip just to shut Chloe up for the time being. It’s not horrible - Beca just isn’t the fan of how chocolate tastes in milkshake form, though she’s sure Chloe will claim there’s no difference if the milkshake were in a solid chocolate bar form instead.

However, she’s mildly distracted by the sudden proximity she and Chloe have between them. Chloe’s arm rests loosely over her shoulder, where she had put her arm when Beca leaned in to drink from Chloe’s cup. She can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck and her cheek.

It would be so easy to just turn and -

Beca shakes her head slightly and shifts back. Chloe takes a moment longer to slowly move her arm from around Beca’s shoulders.

“What?” Beca asks quietly, poking at her fries a little. She catches Chloe smiling at her affectionately.

“Nothing,” Chloe replies quickly. “Just...you smell nice. That’s all.”

 * * * * *

 “I guess it’s kind of convenient that we live together,” Beca remarks, trying not to think too hard about the way Chloe’s hand feels in her own. She winces. “Well. Not live together. But…you know. Live next to each other.”

Chloe tilts her head, smiling as they walk up the path towards their houses. “And why is that convenient?” she asks lightly.

Beca blushes. She hadn’t thought this far. “I’m…I don’t know. I was just…commenting. On the convenience.”

Chloe giggles, pulling Beca closer ever so slightly. Beca likes the way their arms press together. She likes holding Chloe’s hand. She likes lifting her other hand to curl against the bend of Chloe’s elbow.

She likes knowing that Chloe likes her—really likes her—and Chloe enjoyed their date and—and—

“This is you,” Chloe murmurs, stopping in front of Beca’s door.

Beca kind of doesn’t want the night to end. She wants to sit on the porch and talk to Chloe for a few more minutes. Maybe one more hour. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have her attention for a few moments longer.

“This is me,” Beca parrots, feeling a lot more nervous than she thinks she’s letting on. That was what people said in those movies adorning Chloe’s shelves, right? It was what the internet said. Normal first date cliches. She steps backwards, under the light of her front porch, still holding Chloe’s hand as she does so. Chloe hesitates for a moment like she wants to follow, but ultimately she simply squeezes Beca’s hand in understanding and drops her own hand away.

Beca is immediately disappointed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She bites her lip, watching as Chloe awkwardly shuffles her feet before she glances back up at Beca. A soft, slow smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, gentle and affectionate all at once. It makes Beca’s heart pound ridiculously hard.

“I had fun,” Chloe whispers, like she’s afraid somebody else will hear her. But not because she's afraid of other people. Just afraid that their bubble will burst, like Beca is. Another step closer. Beca swallows. “Can we do that again?”

“You’d want to go on more dates?” Beca asks, just to clarify, even though she knows exactly what Chloe’s asking.

“I would love to go on more dates with you.”

“Me too,” Beca squeaks out. “I—um—”

Chloe’s smile stretches, somehow happier than before. “Goodnight Beca.”

Something in Beca snaps. She steps forward, just two small steps and calls out Chloe’s name. “Wait,” she adds hastily.

Chloe stops and turns, surprised.

“Can I—” Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Can I kis—”

She doesn’t get to finish her question before Chloe is covering the ground between them in two short strides, wrapping her hand around the back of Beca’s head, letting the other come up to Beca’s arm, and kissing her for all her worth.

Beca gasps in surprise into the kiss, hands coming up to Chloe’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Gently and slowly, Chloe presses further into the kiss, her lips moving ever so lightly against Beca’s. It is so much more than their first kiss—a do-over, if anything—and Beca realizes, with a jolt, that this is something she can do now. She can kiss Chloe because Chloe likes her and Chloe went on a date with her. Chloe held her hand all night.

Chloe wants to kiss her too.

Beca hums happily at the thought, looping her hands behind Chloe’s neck. It feels instinctual even as Beca blushes at the sudden intensity of the kiss. She knows Chloe has kissed more people than she has; she knows Chloe will forever have more experience in this regard. But God, Beca thinks that she has never felt more wonderful or powerful than she does in this moment, tightening her grip on the fabric of Chloe’s light jacket.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Beca heaves a breath and rests her forehead against Chloe’s forehead. Chloe’s breathing is the tiniest bit labored as well. For a moment, neither of them dares to move, too afraid to break the spell between them.

Chloe is the first to smile—the first to press forward ever so slightly so their noses brush delicately. “What were you going to ask?” Chloe murmurs.

Beca swats her shoulder lightly. “You’re so weird,” she mumbles back, leaning in to steal just one more kiss from her beautiful, wonderful date.

 * * * * *

 When Beca reaches the solitude of her bedroom, she finally gets what all those high school romcoms were about. Showing their protagonist thrilled to finally finish a date so they can squeal and giggle and simply dream about their crush or date. It’s probably the first time that Beca has felt her energy rebound around her room with such happiness and positivity. The sensation is addicting—she honestly just wants to text Chloe all night.

Which, honestly, she could.

Chloe kissed her. Chloe kissed her because she likes her and they just went on a date. A freaking date.

A text from Chloe jolts her back to reality.

Chloe i miss you, is that weird?

Beca no because i miss you too. weirdo.

Chloe i have something else to tell you. that might be weird. Idk

Beca go for it.

Beca watches the text bubbles float in and out on her screen, like Chloe is typing a paragraph. Despite Chloe just saying that she missed her, Beca can’t help but feel nervous.

Chloe I just wanted you to know why i picked south street. it’s because. well. Remember when we first went there by ourselves without our parents. Sometime last year. With a few friends. And we all squeezed into that booth and sat there and shared fries and milkshakes and felt like we were at the top of the world because we were finally in high school or something stupid like that. I don’t even remember much about that night or who we were with but i do remember seeing the way you laughed at something and how your entire face lit up. and i remember thinking that i really liked you and how scary it was that i felt these things for you so suddenly and so much. Like a lot. but i’m so glad that we both got to this point - that we both feel the same way. I just really loved the way you looked when you laughed and i am so happy you’re in my life.

Chloe also i really like kissing you

Beca doesn’t even bother replying.

She shoves on her shoes again and rushes out the front door. She is only surprised to see Chloe sitting on her own front porch, staring worriedly at her phone.

“You really are so weird, y'know that?” She calls out, careful not to startle Chloe too much.

Chloe does jump anyway, but she sets her phone down quickly. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this date off again that you confessed your big scary feelings. Through a text message.” Beca pretends to be annoyed as she stomps over to Chloe. “You couldn’t have said all that?”

“You make me nervous!” Chloe exclaims.

Beca shakes her head, mustering up all the courage she has in the world, pulling Chloe in for a kiss like she wanted to earlier before Chloe beat her to it.

“So much better,” Beca whispers, smiling when Chloe huffs quietly against her mouth.

It's the perfect end to the beginning Beca has been dreaming of all this time.

fin.

[ellavogues]

sunday mornings - harry styles

summary: your relationship with harry has always been ‘whatever it is’, although you both secretly long for more.

a/n so this was originally posted on my old blog which i deactivated, but im too proud of this to let it be gone forever <3

Sunday mornings always seem to start the same. You’re cozied up in his bed, head on his chest and his arm splayed across you, the light shining through the gaps of his curtains.

Memories from the night before tend to replay in your head as you wait for him to wake up - from the pre game at his house, to his hand on the small of your back leading you out to his car and only leaving to open the door for you, to the club or shitty frat party that he had somehow weaseled his way into where he’d hold your hand while he filmed and makeout with you in the corner once he had finished.

Then the journey home. Harry being the only sober one of his friends almost always ended up being the designated driver, dropping all of them off at their respective households. Not that he minded, it was the perfect opportunity for him to talk to you.

It was always incredibly easy talking to him. He was good at small talk, and he was good at turning small talk into meaningful and often fun conversations.

Conversing was one of his many talents you told him as he was dropping his friend off at his house one night. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the unique compliment you gave him, his hand landing gently in your thigh, giving it a small squeeze as his head tilted slightly back as he laughed.

“Baby, what does that even mean?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he tilted it to look at you. You could get lost in his eyes.

Even after six months of whatever your relationship with Harry was, your heart still skipped a beat every time he called you baby. You tried fruitlessly to stop ot hide the blush rising to your cheeks as a result of the nicknames he called you, but he never missed it.

It was one of his favorite things to see; something as simple as a pet name got you all nervous in the best way.

Despite Harry being better at hiding it, you had the same effect on him. Whether it’s you calling him Haz (you’re the only person he’ll allow it from) or you playing with his hair while you watch your show together, he gets butterflies in his stomach every time.

One day, when you came over for a movie night and ice cream, you came with a bunch of shopping bags. Harry’s first reaction was to wind you up, tease you for your frivolous shopping habits. But when you set your bags down and reached into one of them, feeling around for something and pulling out a T-Shirt and hoodie - a men’s T-Shirt and hoodie - Harry’s expression turned from playful and confused.

“What’s that for?” He asked casually, eyebrows furrowed.

“I was shopping for myself and I saw these and I, I thought they would look good on you,” you tell him, honestly nervous as to how he’d react. You had no idea how serious the two of you were, and whether this gesture, as simple as it may be, would scare him off.

But Harry’s confused face turned into a smile, relieving any anxieties you had. He couldn’t believe you thought of him when you saw these clothes and then cared enough about him to buy it.

That’s when he realized he loved you. And it scared the shit out of him.

He wore the hoodie to pick you up the next Saturday, repeating your weekly routine of hanging out then going out. He took everyone to a new bar that just opened that night, and invited some other friends outside of his usual group to join.

You had to watch some girls you’ve never met (but Harry clearly has) flirt with him while he wore a hoodie you bought. You hated how much it infuriated you, because despite how much you longed for him to be yours, he wasn’t. Your relationship with him was just whatever it was.

And you hated it because you loved him. And you hated that you loved him.

The next morning, Sunday morning, you woke up in his arms wearing his T-Shirt. Anyone would think that you were his, but you weren’t. You were the first to wake up, as always, and Harry was snoring beneath you. You felt like his, but you weren’t.

The week flew past, you only came over a few times for a movie night and to keep him company while he edited. Both times he wanted you to sleep over, so both times you did. How could you ever say no to him?

But the next day, when you woke up, he was gone already - off to some meeting or to film. You didn’t want to let it hurt you, because you knew how busy he was, how hard he worked. He doesn’t have time for a relationship with you more than whatever it was.

So you chose to ignore the pit in your stomach that only grew every time you left his house or every time he left early. You grabbed your things, shot him a text, and left, pretending it didn’t bother you. Because it didn’t bother you. That was just how things were, and how they had to be.

The next Sunday morning, he broke your heart.

Things were too complicated, there were too many strings and they were all beginning to get knotted. He needed to untie them before the knot got too big.

And you understood, like you always do. It was for the best, if he kept whatever the relationship you two had going any longer, you might’ve fallen too hard and obtained permanent damage only he could mend. So you just nodded in understanding, not daring to meet his eyes, as he tried to let you down gently.

It broke his heart too.

Harry didn’t realize at first, he thought that with you gone his love for you would vanish as quick as you did. But he was reminded by it constantly. He found himself staring at the hoodie you bought him, until he got so frustrated and confused that he tore it off the hanger and threw it to the back of his wardrobe. But then he started seeing your face in all the little things you two used to always share, like the fluffy blue blanket on his couch and the cookies you got him hooked on.

Eventually he found himself laying on his bed alone on a Sunday morning with the fluffy blue blanket and the hoodie you bought him.

You both tried dating, but it didn’t fill the freshly dug hole in your hearts.

The thing with knots is that they’re hard to untie and the strings remain tangled. The harder you pull the strings in opposite directions, the tighter the knot gets.

When some girl Harry was on a date with a random Saturday night told him he was a good conversationalist, he rudely and abruptly told her he had to leave and this wasn’t going to work out. His anger masked the hurt he felt from missing you.

The next morning he woke up without you in his arms, which just felt wrong for a Sunday morning.

He thought about calling you, he even stared at your contact for about half an hour before he had the balls to get up, grab his hoodie and drive to your place. He had no idea what to say to you.

When you opened your door at eleven a.m. that Sunday morning, he was the last person you were expecting.

“What do you want?” You words were cold and your face was blank. He broke your heart, which broke his.

“I fucking miss you.”

“You can’t do this, Harry,” you tell him, voice shaky as you put all your energy into keeping your guard up. “It’s not fair. You ended things. You didn’t want whatever the fuck our relationship was.”

“I don’t want that,” Harry says bluntly. “Fuck that. I want more than that. I want you to be mine.”

You’re taken aback at his words, you never thought that he’d ever find enough time in his busy, fast-paced, hectic life for you.

“You broke my heart.”

“I know, love, and I’m sorry,” Harry takes a step forward, reaching out to you. He knows the effect ‘baby’ has on you. “I was a fucking dumbass. I thought - I thought whatever feelings I had for you would disappear when you left, but they didn’t. You’re everywhere.”

“I’m not having a label-less relationship with you,” you state. “I want it to be official.”

Harry nods, stepping closer to you again. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

This was the best Sunday morning of them all.

[hotchseyebrows]

good for her

a gotchgan and temily fic

the first @qvid-pro-qvo and @hotchseyebrows collab

a/n: my dearest darling qvo and i have a penchant for saying "yes, and" until the cows come home and well. here we are. also somehow this is the very first gotchgan fic on ao3 to my knowledge? it sure is exhausting being trailblazers but alas! the sacred duty falls to us

rating: explicit! very explicit- penelope likes her details, what can i say. minors dni, thank you kindly (threesome, teasing, cunnilingus, blow jobs, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, creampie)

read it here on ao3!

The ongoings and intricacies of the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household, told from Penelope Garcia herself to a very curious pair of BAU agents. Girls' night will never be the same again.

(In other words, Penelope gets absolutely spoiled by her two partners, and Tara and Emily get every single detail.)

word count: 4287

The energy is a low thrum in the crowd’s chest, most of them gathered near the edges and along the counter space. There’s too many points of focus - the final call for a bachelorette party about to make their way to another venue, the steady thumps of glasses being placed back on the wood countertops, people filtering in and out of bathrooms with too few stalls - but Emily can’t take her eyes off of the couple in the center. 

Derek and Penelope. Morgan and Garcia. On the dance floor, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her hips as they rest their foreheads together and sway back and forth. Nothing else seems to matter to them when they’re together, except them. Him and her, their focus on each other just like Emily’s is. 

The songs are slow, but the rhythm beneath them is what is felt in Emily’s chest, as she hears the bartender announce her and Tara’s next choice for drink. She looks up, settles the tab, and then pulls away to walk back along the side of the place. The lights are low but perfect to give Tara another once over (tenth of the night, if she’s giving a conservative estimate). Looking up at her girlfriend’s smile and slowly working her way down her body. 

She’s not subtle, that’s for sure. 

“Looking for something?” Tara asks. Her voice has a little laugh in it, their own inside joke.  

Emily slides the drink into Tara’s hand. She sidles up to her partner, brushing a hand along her lower back. “Somehow I am still surprised that heels make you this tall.”

Tara laughs before taking a sip of her drink and leaving a grateful kiss on Emily’s temple. “6’3” easy, baby.” She sits down on her stool and grabs Emily’s hand with a smile. “Not that it’s not exhausting being this beautiful. That’s why I have you to fetch the drinks.” Emily laughs too, leaning in to kiss Tara.

After a moment, Emily pulls back and looks around. She wraps an arm around Tara’s waist. “Look at the lovebirds?” Tara laughs into her drink, looking towards the dance floor. Well, what’s left of the dance floor. It’s late, and the place isn’t known for its vibrant dance experience anyway, so the dance floor currently consists of a DJ playing slow jams (on request) and Derek and Penelope lost in their own world.

It almost feels like an invasion of privacy watching them dance now, Pen’s lips near Derek’s ear, the way he’s smiling gently yet with some hidden meaning surely behind it Emily’s too far out of the loop to ascertain. She can take a guess, though, as the two of them laugh and somehow get even closer - a miracle, truly. Penelope nudges their noses together before pulling him into a kiss. It makes Emily smile to see it.

That’s when Hotch arrives. 

“Emily,” he says, voice warm, if not a little worn for the late hour, “and Tara. Good to see you.” 

“You, too, Hotch,” Tara says, lifting her drink to him. 

After he and Derek retired, Emily was uncertain how they’d keep up with each other. It was Penelope who was that connection once they left, keeping the rest of the team up to date, with... well, both of them. It didn’t take long for Emily to deduce that it was more than one former agent who she was going home to, especially when girls’ nights ended with one or the other getting her home.

Nevertheless, even after five years for Hotch and a meager two for Derek, it’s still a shock to see him out of a suit and tie, though the polo isn’t too far of a cry from professional. 

They make some kind of small talk as Emily and Tara work on their drinks, finishing them while the song finishes as well. Aaron fills them in on the judicial consulting he does, and Emily can’t help but spill a couple of case details while the two on the floor start to drift back towards the table. Tara nudges Emily's side with a knowing smile, drawing her attention to the way Derek is spinning Penelope around with one hand and making her giggle as they maneuver closer.

That’s when Penelope turns her head just a little, sees Hotch, and lights up, making a beeline towards him, arms throwing around his neck and giving him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

“Aar-Bear!” she yells, and the music isn’t loud enough to drain out the endearment completely. Derek isn’t far behind her, hand on her lower back, rubbing along a seam of the dress she’s wearing. 

“Hey, Hotch,” Derek says, and his eyes are shining just as bright as Pen’s, even if his touch is restrained just to her. “Missed you.” 

His voice is still warm, however, and his eyes are soft. Emily dips her gaze briefly for her drink, sure to lift her eyes again to see the way he hugs her. “Hey, Pen, Derek. You ready to go?” 

It seems to crush her - her eyes go wide and sorrowful, and even as Derek wraps around her from behind she can’t hide her pout. “We have to leave? But, my darlings -” 

“We’ll see you soon, Penny,” Emily promises, Tara nodding next to her, arm wrapping around her waist. A united front against the force that is Penelope Garcia. “We’ll have another girls’ night, get you good and proper wasted.” 

Penelope lets out a dreamy sigh. “There’s that London in you - okay, okay, okay, I guess I am being… swept away by one of my knights in shining armor.” Her hands lift in a show of surrender, and Derek smiles at Hotch as he passes him towards the exit of the bar. Emily doesn’t miss the squeeze of their hands in the passing, or the way that Hotch lingers back to watch Derek and Penelope stumble forward through the entrance and out into the parking lot where his car is. Derek can only manage a wave as Penelope leans on him, and quickly ensures her safety into the front seat before getting into the back himself. 

“Thanks for looking after them,” Hotch says, turning back to Emily and Tara with a smile that they would have never seen on a case. “I owe you both.” 

“You don’t, but if you’re offering to pay for our Uber…” 

There’s a little laugh shared among the three of them, and Hotch opens his mouth to answer. Unfortunately, confirmation is lost as Penelope sticks her head out of the window without a thought in the world, blonde curls falling in front of her face as she yells out to Aaron. “Aaron Hotchner, my sweet love, if you don’t get in this car and take me home to rail me right now, I will scream.” 

Tara and Emily can’t help the way they stop, heads whipping around to look at Penelope. Her smile is bright, and they have just enough time to look back at their old unit chief. Aaron has gone a bright, deep red, and Penelope has not budged from her position out of the window of their SUV. 

“Well?” the FBI analyst calls out again, and Emily has to keep her hand over her mouth to hide the way she’s about to break at the look on Aaron’s face. 

“S-Sorry, I’ll - I’ll see you both,” he manages, starting to move towards the car he has to now drive. 

“Wonder what that looks like at the… Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner home,” Emily whispers to Tara, hand still over her mouth.

Tara does laugh, though - Hotch looks like he’s struggling to maintain any semblance of composure as he makes his way to the car, and she can see Derek’s face on Penelope’s neck as she waves wildly at them when the vehicle drives off. “It is… intriguing,” she admits, and Emily can’t hold in her laugh any longer as the two of them find their own way home. 

-

It lingers. Penelope’s words, Hotch’s face, Derek’s laugh sounding off from the backseat. It sticks with Tara and Emily on the way home, and Emily is the one who eventually breaks. 

It’s an innocuous enough text. The response, however, required a bit more context. 

-

Emily: so did he rail you?

Pen: 🥴😵‍💫🥳🤩☄️🍑🍆🍌🍽

Emily: …… not the dinner plate.

Pen: what!!! he had to clean up the mess somehow ;)

Pen: do you want… details? because i can give you details…

-

Tara and Emily have to pause. Take a moment, look at each other, trying to decide if details are what they want at this moment. On the one hand, that would be more information than they ever thought they would get about two of their closest friends (they know far too much about Penelope for much to be a surprise - they think.) but on the other, it’s been incredibly… intriguing, this glimpse into the Garcia-Morgan-Hotchner household. They weigh the options, and curiosity wins out in the end.

They do in fact want all the details. 

Go for it, Pen, Tara responds, and they are not nearly prepared enough for the deluge of texts they get next. 

-

Pen: at every red light i was grabbing his thigh and ghosting my hand along his, you know, and turning back to grin at derek who was just watching me tease aar

and derek wouldn’t be left behind and so he was leaning forward and kissing aaron on the ear and the neck and me, and by the time we’re about to turn in and we park he’s kissing me before we even get into the house, as SOON as we’re in the driveway

aar just gets so pretty when he's flustered!!! can you blame us for wanting to rile him up?? plus. hes SUCH a good kisser, my goodness

Pretty. That word sticks out to Emily, but before she can linger on it too long, Tara is jabbing her with her elbow. There’s no time for wondering, because Penelope is typing with experienced fingers and the two of them are enraptured. 

Pen: his cheeks just get so pink and flushed and he stammers when he’s all nervous but he’s still aaron, you know? so he’s all bossy and telling me to get inside and derek is laughing and pushing him forward and everything

and he's so HANDSY, like i dont think anyone would be surprised that derek cant keep his hands off either of us, but aaron... he's so. yea

-

Already they’ve learned so much about their former boss. It’s enough to make Emily’s eyes widen just a little bit, leaning back from the screen to think. It hasn’t gotten too explicit yet, but at the speed Penelope is going it’s only a matter of time. 

“She’s still going,” Tara warns her, her own eyes wide. She moves to set her phone back on the table, but Emily’s hand reaches out to stop her, lifting it back up to eye level. “We could stop, now. Delete from here.” 

Emily takes a breath. But she knows what she wants. “We asked for this,” she reminds her, and the two of them dive back in. “And… we have to know.” 

With Tara’s nod, they keep going. 

(The string of texts they get afterward are forever cemented into Tara and Emily’s memories. Not only that, but the both of them are eternally grateful that any consulting work Hotch or Morgan do is resigned to phone calls and emails, as they are uncertain they’ll ever be able to look either of them in the eye again.)

-

he keeps stopping me on the way to the bedroom to press me against the wall and slip his tongue in my mouth or to press me in between him and derek and trace his tongue down between my cleavage, so im already all worked up before we even get close to our room

and honestly. thank the universe that jack has been at a friend's this weekend because oh boy!! i have no desire to scar my beloved jack attack with his fathers'.... Behavior

ANYWAY and he doesn’t hesitate to pull my dress down, which, a) MEN, there’s a zipper, just tug a little, and b) SO hot when he just has to get right there as quick as possible, mouth on boob as soon as possible. not to mention derek is lifting my skirt and working on my tights, which, thank god, it was time to take those bad boys off after all day at a desk

so now derek is palming my ass and biting at my neck and aaron can't decide which nipple to suck on, so he's switching between them and groaning against my skin, and im just already so drenched

and then before i can blink, aaron, AARON, the only one without a singular drink tonight, looks up at me, and is on his knees. just drops. and i look down and he is under my skirt and before i can breathe his tongue is on my clit and he’s eating me out like he is dying of thirst ladies

and derek has to hold me up because we arent even in the bed and my knees buckle because oh my GOD he's not holding back at ALL, tongue flicking at my clit and then slipping inside of me and groaning against me again, and derek gives my tits some attention with a free hand as he murmurs in my ear and nibbles at my earlobe

and at that point im jello, im shaky, barely standing, i’ve got two gorgeous men determined to make me come, then then aaron is pulling one of my legs up over his shoulder, and he seems to remember, in that moment, my direct request and he works up to using three fingers to fuck me, stretch me open until im coming all over his against derek and unable to think let alone speak and say something coherent. but are we done? NO - not railed, ladies

and im just slumped on them both- which in reflection is such a marker of our love and how safe i feel with them because i was not supporting my own weight at all, and it didn't even occur to me- and aaron is kissing my thighs and smirking while derek nuzzles my cheek for a few moments before im unabashedly whining for more

and when aaron smirks, when he SMIRKS, you know he is not done. and derek does not hesitate, he is sucking marks into my neck and he is asking if im a good girl and deserve more (yes) before he and aaron almost fully lift me to get me to bed. i am now in bed. i have two gorgeous men standing over me, one of them with me all over his face and then i realize. im basically undressed and they have not BUDGED.

and that simply will NOT do, because i want to see my loves in all of their glory (i mean time and place- sometimes it really makes all three of us go crazy if they are fully clothed while im totally naked), but there's nothing i wont get if i break out the 🥺 look especially with my tits out and my legs spread open just right

so i break out the look, im 🥺🥺🥺 with the best of them, and derek and aaron look down at me and they’re so soft and gentle, all ‘what’s wrong, baby girl?’ and ‘what d’you need, pen?’ and it’s like, i need my boys, that’s what i need, and when i say glory i mean glory, i mean that you haven’t seen GOD until you’ve seen derek morgan and aaron hotchner strip off their clothes for you, all so they can make you come a Second time

and i dont even ask for it, but derek tugs hotch in for a kiss before either of them push off their boxers and that makes my heart melt cause any reminder i have won the cosmic lottery in terms of triadic love will do that to a person (and also my puss THROB cause they are just playing up the tongue so much and im so sure aaron still tastes like me, you know? so ridiculously outrageously hot) and then finally i watch them both slowly reveal themselves to me, which like is nothing new but still makes me feel crazy because jesus!!!!!! i can't even begin to explain how big they are

and so in my field of view are two perfect huge dicks, two perfect awesome men, and me on the bed whining for both of them!!! and i must get some full words out because derek is chuckling and kissing me and saying how i requested someone in particular first, and then aaron is lifting my leg and pushing his fingers back in me and then derek is asking if he can fuck my mouth which do i even have to say yes??? (obviously i do, good communication always, but it comes out as yesyesyesyesyes because OBVIOUSLY DEREK 🙄)

so then the both of them help me get on my hands and knees so my beautiful baby can curl his fingers against my gspot all slow and doing these tiny kitten licks against my clit while using his free (big, huge, STRONG) hand to grab at my hip so tight i still have the marks, while derek kisses me a few more times before maneuvering himself to get his gorgeous and divine cock brushing against my lips, but not fucking into my mouth even when i whine and stick out my tongue

i am trembling at this point, okay? i am on the brink — AGAIN — and i know he’s holding back for a reason because i have a great mouth and im VERY good at using it. but then i realize he’s looking up at aaron, too, GRINNING, says “ready, baby?” and before i can think he’s got his hand on my jaw and he’s telling me to open up, and then i feel aaron start to push into me as derek is feeding me his cock and im - im gone, im in heaven, im levitating okay, because i am stuffed full of cock at both ends and im in my happy place

cause ladies, i really dont think i can properly express just how fucking HUGE these two are, like my brain turns to mush with just one of them inside of me but both of them like that? oh my god, my brain was leaking out of my ears barely able to stay up on all fours- and they don't even move at first just this slow slow push in as deep as they can on that first thrust and then just waiting while i twitch and tremble in between

and don’t even talk to me about the sounds they’re making — derek goes all tight and tensed and “yea baby girl” so earnestly but aaron goes all slack-jawed and noises that don’t sound like anything other than him, and then when i look up, tears in my eyes from, well, these inches of cock im taking, derek, sweet incredible huge derek, asks me if im ready for more, and when i blink up, nodding, and he can tell im not tapping out that’s when they both FINALLY start moving

and they are so well practiced at moving in rhythm together, at first they are both thrusting in and out at the same pace, making me so full and then so empty all at once, and then slowly they start working towards a rhythm where im never empty which is precisely what i need and aaron is groaning and telling derek that im dripping and leaking all over his cock and derek thumbs at my cheek and tells me im "such a good girl, taking two big cocks and loving it, needing more" and aar is gripping at my thighs so perfectly

i know there’s gonna be marks there, later, and that when we’re all done he’s gonna kiss them all sweet and gentle and make sure im okay, but right now all i can think is nothing but oh my god and yes and more. and then i hear aaron say, “i know she wants more, she wants our cum, derek” and that’s it, he’s so smart, hits the nail on the head, and he can tell because im clenching around his cock and desperately swallowing around derek’s, and there’s no time for patience because he said it and that’s what i NEED in that moment, i need them to come inside me and on me and all of it

and they both GROAN and then aaron chuckles because i just proved him so right and he starts thrusting harder and faster. derek does too a little but he also worries about hurting my throat by being reckless, and it makes my head spin to feel how he loves me like that, but then my brain is mush again because aar is rubbing my clit and bemusedly wondering how much more im gonna come before they fill me up properly

and i know he wants me to come again but i want him to come inside of me and make it messy, and so what happens is im moaning around derek’s cock, who’s groaning and trying not to fuck my face too hard but he watching me and aaron who’s fucking into me and who now has both my legs spread so wide im just on full display, and each time he fucks into me im moaning again, and it’s just a cycle and they’re heaping on praise and before i can think im coming again around aaron because he has not let up on my clit, and then he’s pushing a finger inside along side his cock too and i don’t know how he hasn’t come yet but i know he’s close, and i know derek’s close, and i know they want a third orgasm out of me because they’re incredible and insane

and tears are on my cheeks and drool all over my chin at this point because it's just so much incredible and wonderful sensation and im so stretched around aaron anyway, but then he slips that finger in? god. it reminds me of the few times we've had the time and energy to, well have them both inside of me like that and im just trembling and whimpering around derek's cock and i thank my lucky stars i don’t have a cold so that derek doesn't have to take his cock out of my mouth at all at this, just fucking my throat and watching me get a little lightheaded from only breathing through my nose and how good im being fucked

and when derek starts biting his lip i know he’s close, and i know i am too, and then i feel the way aaron grabs at my thigh and shifts forward and then he’s fucking into me, and can twist that finger, and can hit my gspot until im seeing stars, and god bless his stamina but i finally feel his rhythm falter and for one blissful moment derek pulls out completely, and aaron is out of me too, and i just know what’s coming as i can take a full breath before i feel der fuck into my mouth, and then he’s coming, babes, he’s coming and i get to swallow it all, and aaron gets to watch the way i whine with it and he loses himself and then HE’S coming from being inside me and watching some of derek’s cum drip from my lips, and as he fucks his cum into that’s when the third orgasm hits and im just — im gone. i am GONE, ladies. i can’t believe im alive. standing. able to speak.

-

Tara’s eyes go wide. She hasn’t been able to breathe, let alone think for about twenty minutes. She turns to look at Emily, who, while getting these texts herself, has trouble breathing or thinking as she watches Tara type out some kind of response.

Her fingers start. Stop. Start again. Emily feels her pain, isn’t sure she’d even be able to respond after all of that. Her collar feels tight. “Good god, Pen.” 

When Tara sends it, Emily’s phone alerts her of the notification. She lifts it up to glance at it.

Tara: “holy… shit….” 

Pen: "but anyway :) i am so sore today in the best way and have used that leverage to be utterly pampered all day long :) i love my boys so much"

“I’ll say,” Tara laughs, and it’s a little hysterical, leaning back on the couch next to Emily, pushing fingers against her temple as she reaches for the wine in front of her. 

There’s silence in their house, save for Sergio’s lone meow as he bats at one of his toys in the other room. A needle could drop and it’d deafen the both of them, especially as Emily moves to lean against Tara and sigh. 

“She seems… happy,” she eventually settles with, hand moving down to gently rest on Tara’s thigh. "And she definitely knows how to tell a story, my lord."

“One word for it,” Tara concurs, taking a sip of her red. “Good for her.” 

And with one last glance to her phone, Emily lifts it, locks it, and reaches forward to set it down on the coffee table. “Good for her,” she repeats, with a solemn and a careful lift of her own glass. 

And when she raises it, Tara doesn’t hesitate, the gentle clink bringing Sergio running to curl up in a lap of his choosing.

[girl4music]

BUFFY REWATCH - S06E04 - Flooded

*Cut to Summers house, night. Giles comes into the darkened kitchen with a towel over his shoulder*

WILLOW: “Hey Giles.

*Giles comes in, not smiling. She’s oblivious*

You have a good talk with Buffy?”

*Willow takes a box of cookies from the cupboard, goes to sit by the island*

GILES:

*Closes the door behind him*

“Yes, now that she's back.”

WILLOW:

*Smiling*

“Isn't it awesome?”

GILES:

*Goes over to the sink*

“Mmm.

*Removes his glasses*

Tell me about the spell you performed.”

WILLOW:

*Excited*

“Oh, okay, first of all. So scary. Like, the Blair Witch would have had to watch like this.

*She covers her eyes with one hand, peeks through parted fingers. Then drops the hand and grins. Giles looks grim. She continues, not noticing his expression*

And, and, and this giant snake came out my mouth, and there was all this energy crackling, and this pack of demons interrupted, but I totally kept it together. And then, the next thing you know…

*Triumphant*

Buffy.”

*She smiles proudly, takes out a cookie from the box and takes a bite. Giles has his back to her, doing something in the sink*

GILES:

*Over his shoulder*

“You're a very stupid girl.”

*Willow pauses chewing, slowly stops smiling and frowns*

WILLOW: “What? Giles...”

GILES:

*Turns to face her*

“Do you have any idea what you've done? The forces you've harnessed, the lines you've crossed?”

WILLOW: “I thought you'd be... impressed, or, or something.”

GILES: “Oh, don't worry, you've... made a very deep impression. Of everyone here... you were the one I trusted most to respect the forces of nature.”

WILLOW: “Are you saying you don't trust me?”

GILES:

*Intensely*

“Think what you've done to Buffy.”

WILLOW: “I brought her back!”

GILES: “At incredible risk!”

WILLOW: “Risk? Of what? Making her dead-er?”

GILES: “Of killing us all. Unleashing hell on Earth, I mean, shall I go on?”

WILLOW: “No!

*Stands*

Giles, I did what I had to do. I did what nobody else could do.”

GILES: “Oh, there are others in this world who can do what you did. You just don't want to meet them.”

*Turns away again*

WILLOW: “No, probably not, but... well, they're the bad guys. I'm not a bad guy.

*Upset*

I brought Buffy back into this world, a-and maybe the word you should be looking for is ‘congratulations’.”

GILES: “Having Buffy back in the world makes me feel... indescribably wonderful, but I wouldn't congratulate you if you jumped off a cliff and happened to survive.”

WILLOW: “That's not what I did, Giles.”

GILES:

*Angry*

“You were lucky!”

WILLOW: “I wasn't lucky. I was amazing. And how would you know? You weren't even there.”

GILES: “If I had been, I'd have bloody well stopped you. The Magicks you channeled are more ferocious and primal than anything you can hope to understand,

*Even more angry*

and you are lucky to be alive, you rank, arrogant amateur!”

*Giles angrily grabs his towel and turns to leave*

WILLOW: “You're right.

*He pauses by the door, looks back at her*

The Magicks I used are very powerful. I'm very powerful. And maybe it's not such a good idea for you to piss me off.

*Giles stares at her, then looks away. After a moment, Willow relents*

Come on, Giles, I-I don't want to fight. I... Let's not, okay? I'll think about what you said, and you... try to be happy Buffy's back.”

GILES:

*Quietly*

“We still don't know where she was... or what happened to her.

*Cut to the back porch. Buffy stands there, hugging herself. We see her from the back*

(Voice over) And I'm far from convinced she's come out of all this undamaged.”

*Pan around to Buffy's front. She just stands there, looking blank*

Moving on from the whole event of Buffy’s resurrection, ‘Flooded’ has our hero becoming aware of and having to deal with the overwhelming problems that have occurred in the Summers household since her death. Namely money problems. Turns out that she’s almost broke and down in the basement the plumbing system is all out of whack and as soon as she gets down there to sort it with her own two hands - the pipes break and water bursts out everywhere, thoroughly flooding the basement. I interpret this as a metaphor for not knowing her own strength, similar to when she was driving a car with the parking break on in ‘Band Candy’. And in not knowing her own strength - inevitably breaks something she was trying to fix. It is an effective metaphor for the episode and season - there’s just some problems a Slayer can’t resolve. The every day, mundane, adult problems of living life… unless they force themselves to confront them.

While all that’s going on with Buffy, Giles returns and sees his recently resurrected Slayer with his own two eyes. I don’t think he quite believed it until then. Until he was able to directly see her for himself. And with all that Buffy tells him (as well as all that she doesn’t, of which he picks up on most), he is seriously worried. This concern for her culminates in the kitchen where he finds Willow and asks her to explain what happened when she performed the spell that resurrected Buffy. The scene we get between them is the most memorable part of the whole episode and, as far as I’m concerned, one of the most memorable scenes in the whole show. We have never really seen Willow and Giles argue thus far. I mean… there’s been times when Giles has warned Willow about using magic and has explained that were she to, to do so responsibly and take it very seriously. But Willow has never been brave or bold enough to argue back at Giles. Not until now. Not until this conversation.

Willow is so proud of herself for what she has achieved in successfully bringing Buffy back to life that her pride makes her arrogant and entitled. Not only does she believe that she’s in the right for what she’s done… but she is absolutely adamant that she should be praised for it too. The fact Giles isn’t impressed by her actions throws her for a loop. Because she thought he would be. Hence her excitement in him asking her about performing the spell. She feels no shame whatsoever and has no hesitancy in explaining just how dark and dangerous it was to perform. As if she completely forgot that Giles is well… Giles. The oldest Scooby member. The retired librarian she once considered her mentor and her his protégée. The man she used to have a crush on. And the teacher who always reminded her to be careful and responsible in dealing with the mystical and supernatural forces.

Willow is so consumed and in over-her-head with her magical power that she is completely oblivious to how other people feel about her constant use of it. She proceeds to defend herself from Giles and threatens him. In her mind, he no longer has the power to tell her what to do or how to think. With her growing power, her belief is that the student has surpassed the teacher… so the teacher is no longer relevant or needed. Which is in stark contrast to the way Buffy regards Giles going forward in the season. He is so relevant and needed to her because she can’t face up to life’s trials and tribulations. So long as he is around to be the adult, she doesn’t have to be. This means she can wallow in her deepening depression at being forcibly pulled out of heaven by Willow and ignore everything else going on in her unwanted experience.

The bleak and dark themes of depression and addiction are starting to become known to us as the audience. In order to tolerate watching Season 6, you have to be willing to acknowledge the most honest and real thing of all about living the human experience. It’s not a TV show. So it will not always look or feel good from an observer’s perspective on it. I know all the complaints fans have with Season 6. Most of all the complaint that it doesn’t look or feel like ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’. But I want to reiterate the metaphor of ‘flooding the basement’. It’s not meant to look or feel like Buffy. That’s the point. You’re meant to be overwhelmed by the bleakness and the darkness episode to episode. I understand that it’s difficult to watch. But if you can’t face the difficulty in merely only watching Season 6 happen… how will you ever be able to deal with the difficulty of your own? This season forces you to learn lessons. And whereas you might have the belief that TV art/entertainment shouldn’t do that because you’re supposed to be entertained by it, I am very grateful that I can learn from it as hard as it is to watch it. I for one appreciate Season 6 so much for being honest and real and raw to the point where Buffy does not look or feel like Buffy. Again, that’s the artistic point!

[japannkenn]

(Luca) Summer Heat (rated M) (unpublished/random pieces that I wrote)

Luca doesn’t like children, which is weird, because he technically is one? (He hadn’t been eighteen for that long, and things still felt the same) He does feel bad about it. He’d dealt with them over his years of study in Genova which was always a hassle, but it wasn’t his fault.

He didn’t know why he was intimidated by a couple of adolescents, just on the brink of consciousness of the world around them. Not old enough to worry about things bigger than how fast they can eat their gelato before it melted in the summertime heat.

He guesses he’s one to talk. Even if it’s been three years, he doesn’t feel like he knows anything. He may not be much better than these kids. He doesn’t know who he is. He thought he did. He thought he was starting to figure it out.

That’s why it’s so shocking to see how second nature Alberto is around a band of rowdy twelve year olds in the water, teaching them how to swim. And maybe they weren’t rowdy—just much too much for Luca to handle. He can’t believe how patient he is, how he humors their antics and how easy it is for him.

And he can’t believe how good he looks in that tiny red Bagnino tank top, iridescent purple scales shimmering in the sunlight, practically calling him.

Luca knew this was going to happen, so he brought a book to look down at if Alberto happened to turn back and steal a glance, lest he be caught staring. Because that would be the end of the world considering some of the things they’d done already.

There was a squiggly, fine line to their relationship.

And besides, he wasn’t good with kids. But it was fun to watch anyway. It doesn’t mean he didn’t feel bad.

“Va bene,” Luca hears him laugh from the water, a young girl looking up at him with a red tinge to her cheeks that definitely wasn’t from the setting sun. “If you can hold your breath for ten seconds, I’ll buy you another gelato.”

“Really? And I can pick the flavor?” Her eyes sparkle.

Alberto pauses comically. “No, no. I still get to pick the flavor,” his voice is giggly, and Luca’s heart wants to burst with affection and love.

“Hey! Non è giusto, you have to buy me one too!” A little boy pops up from under the water, eyebrows furrowed up at Alberto.

“Twenty seconds, then?”

“See that one right there?” He points to the same ragazza that he promised a gelato after he’d come back on the shore for a short break, sitting down beside Luca in the sand.

“Uh-huh,” he watches her as she makes a show of back stroking, glancing curiously at Alberto.

“She’s got a massive crush on me.”

Luca scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Ah, I bet that gets your ego nice and excited doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” he jokes, unwrapping an energy bar from his bag. He takes a bite, a quiet moment passes by and Luca awkwardly looks back down at his book. “Nah. I’m just wondering what I did to make her see me that way.” He says idly.

Luca chews his lip anxiously, incredulous. He starts to wonder if this was a trap. What was Alberto trying to do to him?

Whatever it was, it was working.

The Vespa was surprisingly still in commission, ready for a summer of rides down The Downhill, through the narrow roads, twists and turns to the piazza.

But Luca preferred Giulia’s bike whenever he could if she wasn’t using it. But he’d never admit it out loud that the reason he likes pedaling instead is because he thinks it’ll help him become more like Alberto. Physically, anyways. He was quite jealous, really, in this delicious, sensual way.

Actually, he thinks he’d tell Alberto the reason, if only he would ask. He wishes he would ask. He probably never would, because it was almost like he already knew.

“Don’t you wanna ride your fancy Vespa instead? Why do you need my bike?” Giulia even asks one day, putting Luca on the spot as he’s hopping on for a twenty minute cycle around the piazza.

“Let him use it. He needs the exercise,” Alberto says coolly from the porch, Machiavelli slung helplessly over his shoulder as he’s bringing him back inside from a bath.

Luca’s heart drops, his face burning red.

It’s almost annoying how bold Alberto is about it. No, it definitely is annoying. And Luca is tired of being constantly envious of his ever growing muscles. “Everyone’s bodies are different, you know?”

Luca glares at him. He’s trying to wash the dishes and not even Alberto was a fun distraction anymore. Just plain annoying. Stupid, dumb Alberto. “Haha,” he sulks.

“What works for me may not work for you,” he shrugs, scratching at his chin and appraising Luca’s body for a moment. What’s worse is that Luca can feel it, each little thought in his mind. What’s even worse is that in a matter of days, he’d become so self conscious about something he hadn’t ever thought about for more than five minutes.

Sure, he’d done his fair share of comparing himself to people, and especially Alberto. But he’d always had a summer fixation, whether that was a good or bad thing depended. It was always Alberto. And it wasn’t always good.

“If you’re really that worried about it, I can help you.”

Luca pauses, squeezing the sudsy dish sponge in his scaly hand. His first thought is to be defensive about it, and he is, but it’s a much lighter approach when he says with a little chuckle for good measure, “I’m not that worried about it.”

“But you are,” Alberto outsmarts him in that easy breezy way, winning another point for the Fluster Luca game. “Just a little. Right?”

When he turns to glare at his asshole of a friend again, he’s got that grin on his face, like he’d proven something, caught Luca in another lie the same way he could when they were fourteen, knowing and unbothered. It’s annoying.

Grumbling, he forces his attention back to vigorously scrubbing some dried alfredo off of a dinner plate. “I could give you training lessons. Just me and you.”

To keep from short circuiting, Luca laughs again, awkwardly.

Training started at eight in the morning the next day, on the beach. Alberto says they need open space to promote a healthy work environment, but Luca just feels put on the spot. He relied on the fact that Portorosso was a sleepy town, and it was unlikely that anyone would be awake this early. Besides the pescheria. Which is probably eighty percent of this town’s population.

Carp.

“Like this?” He asks breathlessly, trying to keep in tune with a swift jog in place, his entire body burning for all of the wrong reasons, not that he feels his ten-pack forming, but he can tell Alberto is watching him. Hard.

Alberto hums, scratching his chin. “No.”

***

Ferragosto this year is when he platonically-maybe-not-so-romantically falls in love with Alberto and Giulia all over again. They’ve got her old radio blasting the anthem of summer’64, il gatto e la volpe, and Luca can’t explain how excited he is to hear it again.

Fireworks burst over the astounding view from The Downhill. They’re finally old enough (well, excluding Giulia, but two legal adults were enough) to be out on their own under the influence of at least two glasses of wine.

It wasn’t that much, but Luca can’t help how giggly he feels, throwing his head back to sing, “Noi scopriamo talenti e non sbagliamo mai,” at the top of his lungs, delighted when Giulia takes the next verse.

“Noi sapremo sfruttare le tue qualità!” Her voice is shaky and cracks unexpectedly, but to Luca, it’s like music to his ears. Another firework rockets to the sky, bursting loudly.

“Dacci solo quattro monete e ti iscriviamo al concorso,” Alberto sings next, stumbling over the words and his voice is incredibly off key, but Luca beams at him, suddenly wanting to cry.

“Per la celebrità!” They all sing together, bursting into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

He never wants this to end. He wishes this bottle of wine were bottomless, so that the three of them could lay here in the grass forever underneath the inky black sky, lit up by colorful explosions, wiggling his toes freely in the wet grass, his two favorite people in the entire world right by his side, just like every summer.

But it’s going to end. It always did. That was the reality of it, and he always faced it. But just for a little longer, he could enjoy it knowing there was always next year. For now, he could be irresponsible and enjoy this. A little longer.

He reaches over, turning the radio up to the highest volume, cheering loudly over it.

Lui è il gatto ed io la volpe, stiamo in società

Di noi ti puoi fidar,

di noi ti puoi fidare,

di noi ti puoi fidar

There’s plenty of places to makeout in Portorosso, but somehow they’d ended up behind the house because—oh, now he remembered—it’s almost time for dinner, and they wanted to be back before sundown.

Admittedly, Luca was disappointed that nothing intense had happened on their little day trip to Isola del Mare, and to him it was a waste. He never did well with mixed feelings, and he couldn’t help not being talkative on the walk back to the Marcovaldo household.

If Alberto asked, he’d just say he was tired. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the whole truth— because, merda, the swim there and back really isn’t a cakewalk or anything. He felt near exhaustion, leaning slightly against Alberto as they stumbled down the narrow road, street lamps lighting the dusk night.

He doesn’t know what kind of person he’s becoming, but it most definitely isn’t practical.

He stumbles to trail along when Alberto unexpectedly yanks him behind the dark alley-like space between their house and a neighbor’s and Luca groans confusedly because he’s already a little frustrated with Alberto, even if it’s childish and petty.

“What are you—,” A flame ignites like an explosion in his chest when Alberto roughly slams him against the concrete wall by the shoulders, sucking in a deep breath when he feels his chest pressing firmly against his. “Why—,”

All Alberto does is laugh, and Luca would punch the stupid grin off of his face if he could see it in this light. “What’s that you said earlier? Sono felice? If that’s true then why haven’t you said anything since?”

Luca grumbles. “I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh, right,” he says knowingly, releasing his tight grip on Luca’s shoulders to drop one arm by his side, the other hand planted firmly on the wall by his head instead. It makes Luca feel worse (better? He doesn’t know), the choice to leave or stay looming over him like a playful tease. “You’re upset I didn’t put my hand down your pants earlier, aren’t you?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” Luca’s face heats up and he makes a weird noise of repulsion. “It’s stupid of me, I know,”

“I’ll tell you what…”

Sometimes or more often than not this summer, he doesn’t recognize himself as a top student in Genova, or a loyal son who herded goatfish for most of his life. It’s weird feeling different and thinking about himself like this. And Alberto, his dear friend who showed him this new world above the surface, is now his lover, a little more than just a friend, all and everything in between, and he’s different.

It’s strange.

This was certainly… unexpected.

When they finally come inside right in time for dinner, they’re skittish, and Giulia gives them a look that’s definitely more knowing than confused, but she’s uninformed nonetheless, and Luca can’t help but giggle. He feels like a brat.

He accidentally bumps into Massimo, rustling away from Alberto’s tight grip on his arm. He mumbles a quick mi scusi, sitting down in his seat. “Lo giuro, ragazzi,” Giulia grumbles exasperatedly, setting down cups of water around the table.

Luca steals a glance at Alberto as he picks up his cup for a sip, darting his eyes away quickly when they make eye contact.

“Ragazzi.” Signor Marcovaldo says sternly, and Luca and Alberto flinch. “Help set the table.”

“Certo, certo, sorry about that, papà,” Alberto rushes to the counter, leaning over to take two plates at a time. He sets them on the table, getting the last two. Right as Luca decides he should get up and help too, Alberto is on his way back to the table and they narrowly miss stumbling into each other, Luca letting out a strained little chuckle as they stare stupidly at each other.

Giulia clears her throat loudly, arms crossed.

Luca and Alberto immediately look at her, breaking out into awkward laughs.

“What is it with you two? Veramente,” she takes a seat beside Alberto after he finishes setting down the plates. Luca is next to stand beside Massimo at the counter, grabbing silverware. He can feel his heavy gaze burning holes through his head as he quickly rinses them in the sink, and if he just hurried then—!

“Luca.” Massimo grumbles. Luca flinches again, willing himself to look up at the man towering above him.

“Si?”

“Calmati.”

Luca shivers, drying the forks quickly in a towel. “Oh, sì, scusa,” he rushes back to the table, giving everyone their silverware before shakily taking his seat again. He catches Alberto staring at him again, and he slightly raises his eyebrows like asking stai bene, and Luca nods quickly.

“For dessert, it’s tiramisu,” Signor Marcovaldo says as he sits down, and Alberto’s eyes light up and he gasps excitedly. “For that, you have Giulietta to thank.”

Alberto frowns. Giulia grins smugly at him, and Luca lets out his first real laugh of tonight. “Ah, come on. Can tonight get any worse?” Alberto groans half heartedly, absentmindedly twirling some pasta onto his fork.

“Sure it can. I helped strain the noodles,” Giulia jokes, her mouth full.

“Oh, is that why you’re feeling so tipo tosto tonight?”

“Of course. It’s more than you ever help out around here.”

[ithebookhoarder]

Hey! I love your story the gangsters daughter SO much and I was wondering if I could request something based on it?

Where it’s the night before Evie’s wedding and she goes to Tommy’s office to talk as she’s nervous and they have a fluffy moment where he doesn’t think he’s ready for her to get married! ☺️

Cold Feet (Parent!Tommy Shelby x Evie)

A/N: Ok ok ok. First of all anon, how dare you be so fluffing cute?! And second, OF COURSE YOU CAN! I love Evie and I’m always looking for excuses to write for my baby. Also, I’m totally not crying at the thought of Tommy having to let his little girl go and get married and just wanting her to be happy... I just have something in my eye. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Masterlist:

Tommy had always known this day would come. 

It was as inevitable as death was for every single living thing on this planet. 

No matter how hard he’d prayed that he’d have just a little more time left, his luck had finally run out. There was no delaying it any longer now that the day was almost upon him when his life would change in a way that would alter his world forever. 

It was tomorrow, in fact, that Tommy would see Evie shed the Shelby name for another. 

True, he could not have chosen a more worthy candidate, and knew Toby would love Evie as she deserved to be loved. That didn't lessen the sting it caused though, to know his days as the only male in her life were now over. Soon, she would no longer be his, no longer living in the same house as him. She would be a married woman, and that filled Tommy with incredible joy, and incredible sorrow at the same time.

This was the curse of fathers. 

It seemed only yesterday that she was small enough to not even care about boys, let alone marriage. He remembered a particular conversation with fondness, when Evie had only been with them a few months or so. 

It had been in the wake of a row over Ada’s most recent conquest at the time. An annoying boy, Liam had only lasted three dates before being scared off by Arthur, John, and Tommy.  Despite being nothing particularly special, Ada had been incredibly enraged, yelling about how she wanted to marry him and that she’d never find love again. 

Of course, Evie had found the whole thing hilarious, if not a little confusing. Hence, when she’d sat up in bed that night, as Tommy passed by her room one final time, he couldn’t help but smile at her quizzical expression. 

“But, Dad. If she loves him what’s wrong with that? Besides, Mum had a baby on her own… if Ada did end up pregnant would it really be so horrible? She’d have a child, like me, and you all warmed up to me pretty quickly.”

“Well,” Tommy had begun, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this discussion with his only recently recovered twelve-year old daughter. Polly was always far better at talking about this kind of stuff. “It’s… you see… people tend to only have children when they’re married.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how things are done.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Tommy smirked. “Most people would agree with you, but a lot don’t. They can be horrible and cruel, even to women who were in love but weren’t married when they had a kid. So, we’re trying to spare Ada from that. It’s fucking complicated, but at the end of the day, she deserves to be happy, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Evie sighed, suddenly staring down at her bedsheets nervously. “But… does that mean Auntie Martha was right? That I have to get married when I grow up? But Dad, the only boys I like are you… and my uncles… I don’t suppose I could marry one of them?”

Tommy immediately bit back his laughter as he shook his head and held her close. “I’m afraid Martha would object to you marrying our John. Besides, you don’t want one of us old men when you can find someone young and handsome who you love very much.”

“But how will I know who that is? Or if they’re good or not?” she asked innocently. 

“I’ll help you,” Tommy offered, not without a little hesitation. To even think such a time would exist, when he would have to part with his daughter, when he’d only just found her again… “You can depend on it. Any unworthy bastards will be driven away by me, and the hounds.”

At that Evie spluttered into laughter, before pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Now that, I would pay to see.”

Well, that day had come and gone and Tommy hadn’t released any hounds. No. The only hound in sight was Cyril, and he’d warmed incredibly quickly to the new member of the family. 

He hadn’t been the only one either. In fact, Tommy had rolled out the red fucking carpet, welcoming the man into the family. Sure, it hadn’t been without its challenges along the way, but as much as Tommy hated to admit it, Toby was a good man. More than that, he’d proved his loyalty to the family, and to Evie, over and over again. 

If he had to part with Evie to anyone, then at least it was to someone as decent as Toby. It made the whole ordeal hurt just a little less as he sipped his whiskey and stared out of the study window. 

Despite the late hour, there were still faint laughs and shrieks of delight echoing from upstairs. Ada, Lara, Polly and Lizzie were most likely to blame, having taken charge of Evie’s so called ‘last night of freedom’. Tommy didn’t know what that entailed exactly and he didn’t even want to try and guess. Not given how much champagne they’d lugged upstairs with them earlier, having returned from a busy evening dancing at a local club. 

If they weren’t all hungover as hell in the morning it would be a minor miracle. 

Still, as long as they got their asses to church on time and didn’t throw up on the minister, then everything would be fine. No. It would be perfect. Tommy had promised Evie that much and he’d be damned before he failed to deliver a promise as solemn as this one. 

She’d done the same for him, twice in fact, even if his union to Lizzie had been a far simpler affair than his first marriage to Grace. 

At least Evie hadn’t insisted on there being a ‘father of the bride’ toast - even if Ada had… Somehow, Tommy knew his would never be anywhere as good as the ones his daughter had given. 

She always had had a way with words.  

“Dad?”

Tommy froze. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

He was startled by the sound of her voice, echoing from the open doorway, as if summoned by his worry. He’d almost thought he’d imagined it until he turned and saw her standing there, looking a little worse for wear in her finery. 

Apparently he’d been right; she’d had a very fun evening.  

“Evie?” he blinked, clearing his throat as he tried to compose himself. “What are you doing down here? It’s late and I thought you’d be upstairs celebrating a bit longer. Big day tomorrow.”

Evie smiled, shrugging as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. She knew she never needed an invitation, having given up knocking long ago. 

“I was but… I don’t know. I just wanted to come and see you, if that’s alright?”

It would always be alright. Tommy hoped she knew that, even if the anxiety in her eyes said otherwise. Then again, he suspected the nervous energy wasn’t directly aimed at him.  

Over a decade later, he knew his daughter better than he knew himself. It was why he nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him in a clear invitation. “Of course it is, but won’t the others miss you?” 

“Oh, they’re all too busy finishing the last of the wine to miss me right away and… I don’t know why but I needed a minute away from everything. It was all a bit… much.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. This family has always been a bit much,” Tommy teased. That was why they both loved them though. The Shelby spirit was strong and made them who they were. They wouldn’t change it for the world, even if it did drive them nuts on occasion. 

And Toby was willingly entering this family, why? 

“I’m almost scared to ask what’s being going on up there.”

“Probably wise, Dad. No one should see thing things I have tonight.” 

“I thought so.”

A laugh escaped Evie’s lips as she sat beside him, accepting the glass of whiskey he handed her without a second thought. It was simply routine by this point, the two of them caught in a silent routine on nights like this when they needed to simply clear their heads and think. 

It was an unwritten agreement between the pair of them. As was the somewhat confessional nature this room had taken on in its time under the Shelby household. So much had happened since they’d first moved in to Arrow House, from Charles and Ruby being born, to losing Grace, to Evie falling in love, Tommy’s ascension to Parliament, losing John and Esme, Lizzie and Tommy’s wedding… 

Only a decade or so, and yet Evie felt like a whole novel would never be enough to capture her family’s history or the almost surreal events that had taken place.

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a talk like this, Dad,” Evie continued, shrugging as she sipped her drink and stared at the room. “Everything’s been happening so fast since Toby proposed. It feels like we haven’t had a moment to breathe, really. You’ve been so helpful, agreeing to everything and allowing us to turn this place upside down. I can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. I half expected you to be like Arthur yelling at the florist earlier.”

“It’s the least I can do, Evie. It’s not every day my daughter gets married - and he yelled so I didn’t have to. Fucking trying to sneak carnations in when the order clearly said Clematis with the centrepieces.”

Evie snorted, failing to hide the fact hearing Tommy Shelby raging about flowers was possibly the funniest thing to have ever happened. Ever. Good thing he hadn’t been there when someone had accidentally delivered the wrong amount of chairs for the tent erected out on the lawn. She could only imagine the carnage that would have occurred.  

“My knight in shining armour.” 

“Always. No ring changes that, Evie. I’ll always be there for you, whether it be to fend off blind florists or worse.” 

Despite the fact he acted as if he was merely joking, Evie knew her father meant each and every word. He always had. Even with their ups and downs, he had never abandoned her, always trying to do what was best for her, even if he went about it the wrong way from time to time. 

When she thought back now, to the day she’d first met him in that graveyard, on what had been one of the darkest days of her life, she wished she could tell her younger self not to be afraid. To not be angry or scared of the future before her and the wondrous people that would be in it, thanks to the wonderful man she got to call her father. 

“Dad, can… can I ask you a question? About tomorrow?” 

Tommy hummed softly. “I don’t know what I can tell you about weddings, but fine. Of course.”

“It’s not about the wedding per say, more the bit after. I just… I’m scared, Dad. I don’t know why but I am.”

The words made Tommy’s heart plummet before he’d even realised what she’d said. It took everything in him not to panic or try and express the pain he felt at the idea his daughter was scared about what was supposed to be a happy day - a happy and expensive one, even if Tobias had money enough to cover a lot of the costs. 

“Of what?” 

“I don’t know,” Evie whispered, almost as if ashamed to confess it. “I’m so happy and excited to start the life together Toby and I have talked about for years but, now that it’s here? I don’t know. I just … I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out and I don’t know why. Is something wrong with me? Who gets terrified of their own wedding?”

“Every fucking sane person on the planet,” Tommy countered swiftly, a hand reaching out to take hers. “As someone with experience here, you can trust me when I say everyone gets scared, Evie. Everyone. No matter how certain you are that you love the person or that this is the right next step.”  

“But why?” 

“Because it’s a big commitment,” Tommy continued, “and it’s a new chapter in your life. That’s exciting but also terrifying. To know you have a chance to start a family of your own? To choose your own path? That’s nothing to take lightly, and if I didn’t think you wanted this, or that you weren’t ready, I would have said something before now. You can count on that.” 

He had a point.  

“And I know you, Evelyn Shelby. You have never let anything or anyone stop you from going after what you want, even if it’s scary or someone says no. If being with Tobias is what you want, then so be it. You’re a grown woman, as much as I fucking hate to admit it. I think you’ve proven over and over again that you’re the bravest one out of the lot of us, and I’m so proud of you. Your Mother would be too. She’d want you to be happy and to enjoy tomorrow for what it is: the start of another chapter in your incredible life.” 

The thought of her absence was enough to make Evie’s eyes sting with tears, as was the conviction with which her father spoke about her. The pride was clear, even if he looked a little scared himself at what tomorrow would bring for them all. 

“Thank you.”

Tommy nodded, knowing better than to argue as she threw herself at him, coiling herself around him as she often did. Ever since the first time she’d done it, he’d been unable to resist it. So what? His daughter’s embrace was one of the few in the world that made him feel loved. It was as if her presence alone was enough to restore him, to banish whatever was troubling him. 

The thought he wouldn’t just be able to have such hugs so frequently made his heart ache even more. 

He didn’t want her to go. 

In his eyes, she was still the twelve-year-old girl he’d first met. She always would be, no matter how much she insisted on growing up and being a so called ‘adult’. It was why he planned on keeping her room upstairs exactly as it was now, just in the case she ever needed or even wanted it. 

That, and because he physically couldn’t bear to erase any remaining traces of her from his home. Of course, Lizzie had teased him rotten about it, even if she understood. Still young, Lizzie hated the thought of Ruby ever growing up and leaving her for anyone - let alone a husband. 

At least they had some time left before that would be happening. Tommy didn’t know if he could survive anymore heartache so soon.

“I love you, so much, Evie,” Tommy whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding her close. “You’ll always be my little girl, and you’ll always be welcome here. Anytime, day or night. This will still be your home, and we’ll still be your family. If anything, we’re simply gaining more members, not losing any. Understand?”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, wiping her eyes as she shot him a watery smile. “I love you too, Dad, even if I swear I’m supposed to be the one telling you all this. Isn’t it normally the father of the bride who’s supposed to get all teary eyed and jittery the night before?”

“We’ve never been conventional, Evie. In case you forgot, we have politicians, the Lee branch of the family, and Alfie fucking Solomons all coming tomorrow, for fucks sake. Why should we start worrying about tradition now?” 

Evie’s laughter was infectious at the picture of the eclectic scene awaiting them, especially considering how excited Alfie had been at the prospect of attending a Shelby wedding. Oh, Arthur was going to explode at the sight of the Jewish gangster sat in all his finery. That, and when he saw the huge gift he had been promising her for weeks now.  

She couldn’t wait.  

“True. Well, traditional or not, I’m so grateful for the life we have, Dad. I’ll never be able to tell you how grateful I am that you were the person who showed up at that graveyard,” she confessed. “There’s no one else in the whole world I want to be my side tomorrow. You’ll still walk me down the aisle, right?”

Tommy beamed. “How can you ask that, Evelyn Shelby? I’ve always been right beside you and tomorrow is no different. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tommy whispered, “simply enjoy yourself and let me and the others take care of the rest. That’s all the thanks we need… and maybe call once in a while, just so I know you’re alright.”

Evie laughed, knowing she would probably still end up here most of the time anyway after she was married. But she agreed, pleased to put his mind at rest as well as he’d put her own. “I really do love you, Dad.” 

“And I love you too, Evie. Always.” 

[alice-in-wonderart]

I have found your blog and I love it!! Good look with it! Can you do headcanons for pregnancy and post-delivery for the juniors? (I see you write about them, and I don't know which other characters you are comfortable to write for). Thnkx~

I write for right about all characters! The Nies, the Jiangs, the Wens, the Lans, even all of the Jins (except Jin Zixun he can go be mean somewhere else) + Yi City power characters are all characters I write for ✌️ (I may have missed a few names) That aside, thank you so much for reading my stuff! I'm glad you enjoy them ❤️❤️ Aside from having 0 time management skills, running such a blog is so much fun! Here is your request about the Juniors being...well- themselves.

Ouyang Zizhen

You're what now?

OYZZ.exe stopped working.

Then he realised three fundamental truths at the exact same time. (if u get the reference, bless ✌️ )

Once the realization of the situation hit, his eyes watered and a loud, yet emotional whail escaped his lips, before engulfing you in a big hug. He was going to be a dad! You two were going to have a baby. And then realization hit him again.

Shit. He was going to be a father. A father to a baby - his baby. That was a lot of responsibility he was about to take. A lot of work, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of time and energy. Babies are hard.

And then realization hit him a third time. He was going to have an actual family with you. And you were the mother to his child. YOUR child. He almost couldn't believe it.

Cue OYZZ becoming 70 times more affectionate and careful. You want to go outside? By all means, but let your gentle lover accompany you. Just in case, y'know. You want something sweet? By all means, what kind of sweets does the queen desire? You need new clothes because of the baby bump? By all means, what kind of silk do you want? Colour? Pattern? Style? You want to sleep? 3, 5 or 50 pillows?

OYZZ is a walking panic bomb when it comes to your pregnancy. Conveniently, he also knows how to mostly hide said panic. But you being in pain, having morning sickness and and in general feeling off is not something he signed up for. So, he will dote over you as much as humanly possible.

But then judgement day arrived. And he was out of it. He somehow never considered the fact, that you were going to one day have to give birth to that baby.

You have never seen a more distressed looking man than OYZZ when he finally got the permission to see you. His eyes were puffy, his lips were quivering and he was so pale, he could easily pass for a corpse. It seemed as if he was the one giving birth, not you.

And he immediately dropped to his knees next to your bed, gently taking your hand in his. You were alive. You were alive and argueably healthy and that was what he needed to hear.

But then! In comes the medic, holding your child in pure white blankets, gently letting you take it. And the moment his eyes landed on that baby he knew, that his heart was stolen once more.

"Congratualtions! It's a girl."

Guess who is about to become "Daddy's little princess".

Jin Ling

"Hahahahahhahha. Funny. Oh wait, you're serious?!"

PaniK

What do you mean you're pregnant? When did that happen? When did you learn? How were you sure? Wait, you were how many months in?!

Give him time. It's not, that he isn't happy. He's just panicking like crazy. Of course, once the initial mental breakdown™️ wears off, he'd come up to you and give you the most emotional hug you've ever experienced. He'd hide his face in your hair, as he mumbled into you how incredibly grateful he actually is.

Now, as the Lanling Jin Sect's leader, of course it was expected of him to have an heir, so such news travelled quickly. Immediately this became the gossip of every household and ultimately led to you receiving a metric ton of gifts from all over the place. Jin Ling would also make sure you were living the most lavish, yet healthy lifestyle possible.

The truth is, he was utterly terrified. After all, he grew up without parents, lived only with his uncle and as a result was quite hot-tempered. More than anything, he wanted to be the best dad possible. He wanted his children to grow up in a loving family, with their parents next to them, with a mother to care for them and a father to teach them. And he was afraid whether he was capable of even being a good father. But of course, you knew he was going to be the best father in the world.

Now, speaking of hot-tempered, Jin Ling honestly would throw more hissy fits than you. In fact, he'd get more mood swings than you too. In fact, even when pregnant, you're the calm one. Because if you think he's snappy and over-protective of you usually, wait 'till you see him once he learns you're pregnant. Hoo boy.

He was at work, dealing with the pressures of leading a sect when one of Lanling's servants hurriedly burst into the room, giving him the news that made his tough guy act crumble in seconds - his wife was giving birth.

At the time, he was surrounded by now Sect Leader Lan Sizhui, (idk it's a hc), Nie Huaisang and of course - his uncle, who all ushered him to go see you. Thus, he stormed out, running towards the nursery like his life depended on it.

"What do you mean I can't enter yet, my WIFE is in there." You haven't seen scary until you've seen Jin Ling, amidst an utter mental breakdown, being held down by a few nurses, trying desperately to stop him from going in.

Once they DID let him in, he'd be by your side in 0.001 seconds, only to see you holding not one, but two babies.

"A-Ling, look. They're twins. Say hello to papa, little ones." For once, Jin Ling didn't mind the tears that began falling from his eyes, as he gently held one of his two sons in his embrace. Perhaps, being a father wouldn't be that bad after all. Not with you by his side.

Lan Jingyi

*dramatic gasp*

For once the loud, wild Jingyi was left speechless, unmoving, utterly starstruck by the news. He'd never admit it, but for a while he'd been dreaming of having a family with you. So, when you told him the news, his heart skipped a beat. His dream was coming true.

And then, with the biggest smile on his face, he'd lift you up, carrying you to your now shared room, stating how you shouldn't strain yourself and how he'd take care of everything you need.

"Er-gege, I'm only 3 months in, it's barely noticeable yet, I can take care of myself."

Denial.

Lan Jingyi will be there for you at the cost of right about everything, even if it meant breaking Lan's rules, much to yours and everybody's dismay. Macho man™️ will protect his darling flower. What he wasn't ready for was how complicated pregnancy actually is.

Whenever you're more moody, he'd be quick to anger as well, so small and pointless arguments wouldn't be uncommon. But for every little argument, there is also a sleepless night where he'd cuddle you, whenever your stomach would hurt, or you'd feel uncomfortable.

Now Lan Jingyi is a cool dad. He is a cool dad before he is officially a dad. Whenever you two are alone, lying in bed, he'd lean in to rest a hand on your stomach. And he'd always give a happy yelp whenever he felt his little one move. And gosh, how much he'd talk to the baby. He'd tell your stomach stories of his great adventures, he'd joke around and believe me, he's planned every family outing for next 10 years.

Absolutely everybody thought it was going to be a boy. Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling even bet on it, OYZZ being ABSOLUTELY sure it would be a boy.

Giving birth was a whole new adventure. He'd wake up much too early for his liking with you frantically shaking him awake.

"The baby is coming." "Who's coming?" "The baby." "THE BABY?!"

Cue, Lan Jingyi losing his damn mind. He'd be up and running in a blink of an eye, casually scaring the medics and waking up the entire Cloud Recess in his hurry. Don't run in Cloud Recess? He's not running. He's SPRINTING. Do not shout in Cloud Recess? He's not shouting, he's SCREECHING. Do not speak out of turn? FOR GOD'S SAKE MY BABY IS COMING. And he'd be like that the entire time, until he's allowed to see you. He'll write the rules a thousand times if he has to later. He won't, Lan aren't heartless.

Seeing his healthy little baby, he was right about ready to pass out. He almost didn't hear you joking how your little girl was a loud crier and was about to be just as wild as her dad.

" Wait. It's a girl? We have a little girl!" Cue Ouyang Zizhen screaming in misery, as Jin Ling victoriously smirks his way.

Lan Jingyi on the other hand couldn't have been happier.

Lan Sizhui

QWQ

"This is the best day of my life, I can't believe we're going to have our own family!"

With a bright smile, he'd pull you in for a sweet kiss, shaking with excitement. Honestly, he'd have the best reaction out of all the Juniors. He's a family guy, who gets to witness true love everyday around his fathers, so having a child of his own with you was one of his long-term goals. He was old enough and wise enough to be absolutely ready to embark on an adventure through fatherhood.

Lan Sizhui would be so loving and gentle with you. You'd have him wrapped around your finger, he'd respond to your every beg and call. He'd minimize any work-related travelling to make sure he could be as close to you as possible.

When he wasn't there, he'd assign his cultivation partner and trusty bestie Lan Jingyi to take care of you and look after you. Did you necessarily need it? No. But you understood his worry, so you let him be.

He'd be there for you when you were feeling down, through your mood swings, morning sickness. He never complained, never fought with you, never gave you anything short of his unconditional love.

In fact, he was so SO compassionate, that he'd get pregnancy cravings WITH you. Nothing like the two of you, sitting awake at 2 am, (uncommon for him) eating chocolate-covered cucumbers and apricots.

Similarly to Lan Jingyi, everybody were already 100% sure the two of you would have a little girl. With Sizhui's sweet soft-spoken behavior and big warm heart, having a little gentle flower to spoil rotten seemed like the obvious outcome.

Lan Sizhui, on the other hand, refused to give into all of those "what ifs". Only time could tell. Besides, he'd be just as happy and proud no matter what gender the baby would be.

With his careful planning and skillful avoidance of any travelling, thankfully he was there when the due date was up. On the outside, he remained as calm as physically possible, but oh, on the inside it was a storm. Few could see through his façade, but by the trembling of his fingers, discreet chewing on the inside of his lip and eyes darting all around him, his true feelings came to light.

And when he finally got to see you, you've never seen him more unlike himself. With a worried expression and hasty movements he'd make his way to you, trembling hand reaching out to cup your face. He'd leave a gentle kiss on your forehead, before turning to the newborn in your hands.

"Sizhui. Say hi to your son."

A single tear rolled down his face, carrying the weight of all of his love in it. One look at his child and his heart was pierced by a million arrows. At that very moment he vowed, that he'd protect this child with all he's got, teach him all he knows and love him with all of his heart.

Thank you for reading~

[half-bakedboy]

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “I’ve recently found myself with a lot of time on my hands and since you don’t seem to have enough to romance someone,” Buck began, settling his drink on the table, “I think it only makes sense for someone to romance you.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and shot back, “Yeah, and how are you going to find someone willing to put in that effort?”

“Oh, you’re lookin’ at him.”

Or… Eddie gets the romance he deserves in the form of fluff-filled dates with Buck.

For @911fluffweek - day five: Love confession // Breakfast in bed

(read chapter five on ao3 or start from the beginning)

The nights Buck spent over at the Diaz home had slowly become the most important ones. Eddie hadn’t been ready to make a home in L.A. In fact, he had tried his hardest to avoid that at all costs for the sake of his own sanity. He moved from Texas to avoid the pressure that his family had put on him when he came back from Afghanistan and that Shannon had forced upon him when she decided to leave. There was nothing Eddie wanted less than to have something so intertwined into his—and by extension, Christopher’s—day-to-day life.

Buck had become exactly that before Eddie could stop it, and he realized after a few months, that he wouldn’t have put in the effort to try. He knew it would be energy expended to push Buck away because at every turn, there he was; buying him flowers, twirling him around a dance floor, tossing pebbles at his window to take him on late-night adventures, entertaining Christopher with trips to the movies with and without Eddie there. Buck was proving to both of the Diaz boys that he was there to stay and Eddie wasn’t as scared as he had prepared himself to be.

He was definitely not regretting his decision to have Buck stay over when he woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through his room. He pressed his hand to the other side of the bed, still warm but emptier than Eddie wished it was, and he rolled over to shove his wide grin in his pillow. He could hear the clash of pans, the music playing at a volume that Eddie knew both his boyfriend and his son wanted to raise, and the joyful laughter of the two most important people in his life echoing down the hallway.

Eddie could get used to waking up happy. He could get used to having a family that consisted of more than just Christopher. He could get used to being in love.

When did he start smiling so much?

He shook the thought away, deciding that it was a question he already knew the answer to and therefore, didn’t need to think much about, and sat up in his bed. He reached for his phone, a force of habit from when he didn’t wake up with Buck beside him, and instead, his hand met heavy construction paper. On it was Buck’s chicken scratch and multiple small drawings that he recognized immediately as Christopher’s.

Text me when you wake up and don’t get out of bed. Christopher’s orders.

Eddie laughed and ran his hands through his hair before propping himself against the headboard and doing just as he was told. It was the first time in a long time that he had an entire weekend to spend outside of the one-eighteen and he had no other plans but to be with Buck and Christopher. He shot off the text, grinning when he heard a squeal that resonated with joy, and waited as he heard the tiny patter of crutches down the hallway.

“You didn’t get out of bed, did you?” Christopher yelled through the door, knocking excitedly.

Eddie shouted back, “I was instructed not to by order of the obvious king of this household!”

The door flew open and a few short moments later, he had his arms full of his son. His hair tickled against Eddie’s nose and his knee dug painfully into Eddie’s hipbone, but he didn’t bother to try and move him. He was quietly content that at eight years old, Christopher was still willing to wrap him up in such an exuberant embrace no matter where they were.

“We have a surprise,” Christopher explained once he pulled away and settled next to his dad on the bed. Buck peeked around the corner of the door frame as if waiting for his cue and in his hands, was a tray containing Eddie’s favorite breakfast foods.

“He says ‘we’ but this was all Christopher’s idea,” Buck countered, directing a wink at both of the Diaz boys. Eddie grinned up at him as he handed over the platter. He eyed the plates suspiciously, noting that there were entirely too many scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, and hash browns for him to consume by himself. Christopher vibrated beside him just as Buck pulled out three forks from his back pocket.

“Buck said I had to ask you if we could all eat in bed but I thought since it’s a good surprise, you wouldn’t be able to say no,” Christopher said too matter-of-factly for Eddie’s taste. He stared at his son who had the largest and cheekiest smile on his face and hated that Christopher clocked him that well. Without waiting for an answer—or possibly seeing it on his father’s face—Christopher grabbed a fork from Buck and dove in, scooping some eggs from the plate and filling his mouth. Eddie slid over just enough for Buck to squish into his other side and Buck glanced over at him almost ashamedly.

Buck began rapidly, “I’m sorry for the ambush. He just came in here so quietly and you were so tired after your shift yesterday that I didn’t want to wake you. Then Christopher mentioned how you guys used to do breakfast in bed for his mom and we both decided that you deserved to start your weekend off right—”

Eddie cut him off with a kiss. It was quicker than either of them wanted it to be but both were very aware of the tiny set of eyes watching their every move. Christopher groaned and crunched loudly on a piece of bacon causing both Eddie and Buck to erupt in laughter. Instead of shying away like Eddie had expected, Buck leaned forward and placed a messy kiss on Eddie’s cheek before leaning over and doing the same thing to Christopher. The boy blushed and rolled his eyes, wiping away the remnants of Buck’s lips away with the back of his hand. The smile never left his face.

“So, breakfast in bed, huh?” Eddie began, scooping up a forkful of hash browns. “What step in the romance handbook is this?” Buck laughed and stabbed a few eggs, battling Christopher’s fork with his own as they went for the same bundle.

“There’s a handbook?” Christopher asked, peering up at his dad almost shyly. There was a look in his eyes that Eddie hadn’t seen before and it intrigued him to no end.

“There’s not a real handbook but Buck, here, is very good at bringing the romance,” Eddie commented. He figured that was the safest way to put it and blushed when Buck pressed a gentle kiss to his temple when Christopher wasn’t looking, as if punctuating Eddie’s point.

“What would be in the handbook? If there was one?” Christopher asked, breaking off little bits of his bacon and chewing on them slowly. Eddie hesitated to answer, a bit too long if Buck’s elbow in his side told him anything.

“Um, lots of things. Romantic gestures, mostly,” Eddie said, sending a pleading glance at Buck because he was the expert. Buck held back a laugh, probably for Christopher’s sake, before leaning forward enough to meet Christopher’s gaze.

“Sometimes, people like to feel like someone thinks they’re important and there are little things others can do to make them feel that way,” Buck began as Christopher nodded along, eyes focused like Buck was giving him the secret to the entire universe. “I gave your dad flowers when I picked him up on the first date and he turned all red because he appreciated them,” Buck teased, poking at Eddie’s cheek.

“Flowers made him feel special?” Christopher asked, scrunching his face like he didn’t quite understand. Eddie watched him carefully, wondering where the sudden interest came from, but Buck was speaking again before he could ask.

“It wasn’t the flowers, really. I think it was the fact that I went out of my way to bring him something beautiful when he expected nothing,” Buck stated and he was right.

Eddie was pretty sure that when he tossed the flowers in a vase when they got home, they were already half-dead and wilted, but that didn’t matter to him. He would’ve kept them until they were black because somehow, that little gesture showed Eddie that Buck wasn’t playing around with him. Whatever they were starting was real and as fragile as the bouquet crushed between their chests.

“I think I understand,” Christopher said, picking at the eggs with the end of his fork again. Eddie and Buck shared a look of intrigue before staring back over at Christopher expectantly. For a moment, he was silent. Then he seemed to notice their eyes on him and that blush on his cheeks darkened as he actively avoided their gazes. “What?”

“Oh, you know what,” Eddie said, wrapping an arm around Christopher’s shoulder and squeezing his arm tightly. “Where are all of these questions coming from?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Christopher whined bashfully, filling his mouth with food as if that would give him a reason not to answer. Eddie raised his eyebrows at him before glancing over at Buck who was pressing his lips together and pretending to not be a part of the conversation.

“You know you can tell me anything, right, Christopher?” Eddie urged, brushing his hair back from his face gently. Christopher nodded and pulled away from Eddie, taking a deep preparatory breath.

“Do you think, after we have our fun weekend together, I can maybe get some chocolate for someone at school?” Christopher asked after a few contemplative moments. Eddie’s heart clenched in his chest and he nodded back, leaning into the arm Buck had thrown around his shoulders.

He knew his son was only eight, but the fact he had formed a close enough relationship to want to treat them to something special made him so incredibly happy. He had stressed himself out for weeks--months even--when he had decided to move them to L.A., but to have confirmation that Christopher was finding his own place solidified that maybe Eddie had done the right thing for his family. Seeing Buck grin next to him helped, too.

“I never ever thought of chocolate?” Buck complained, gaping at Christopher who beamed in response.

“Everyone loves chocolate and dad always gets me sweets when he wants me to know I’m special,” Christopher explained, glancing up at Buck as if waiting for more praise for his good idea.

“You’re absolutely right, buddy. Chocolate is a wonderful gift and maybe you can help me pick something out for someone I think is pretty special, too?” Buck asked with a wink. He held up one hand in front of his face and used his other to point at Eddie as if hiding the motion. Christopher giggled wildly and Eddie couldn’t help but join in.

“Uh uh, it’s my turn to pick out something for my special someone, don’t you think, Christopher?” Eddie angled his upper body blocking Christopher from Buck and used his thumb to point at his shoulder, knowing that Buck could still see the motion in his direction.

Christopher devolved into a fit of laughter, his hands waving as he leaned back against the pillows behind him. Buck moved the almost empty tray off of Eddie’s lap carefully and when there was nothing in his way anymore, he raised his eyebrows at Eddie in silent question. Eddie nodded and on a quiet count of three, the two men attacked. They poked at Christopher’s sides and his neck where both knew he was most ticklish, working together to make sure Christopher was thoroughly tickled.

The laughter seemed to echo through the room, resounding through Eddie’s mind like a sweet symphony of joy and wonder. Soon, all of them were breathless, panting through their leftover giggles. Buck had landed himself on the other side of Christopher so the small boy was tucked in between them, the smile on his face never faltering. He was gripping onto both Buck and Eddie like he never wanted to let go and honestly, Eddie understood that.

His stomach muscles ached from sheer happiness and he was sure the smile on his face would last the entire weekend because he was spending it with the two people beside him. If he could wake up to his son and Buck for the rest of his life, he would choose to do that. He would choose Buck a thousand times over if it meant seeing those smiles on both of their faces day in and day out.

“Alright, who’s ready for the fun-filled weekend I have planned?” Eddie asked excitedly.

Christopher groaned and cuddled into Buck’s chest as he responded, “Just a few more minutes?”

Yeah, Eddie could get used to that.

[inaure-forhalla]

because at this rate i will simply never have proper full written out bios for my muses, below the cut find some more detailed information about my muses that give you more info than just the vibey little blurbs i shat out at some ungodly hour of the day:

akllasqa mamani:

aklla is the daughter of a scientist that had all her titles stripped of her, and prohibited from working in the field after unethical experiments came to light. this doesn’t stop her from laying low and forming a personal lab, although under a watchful eye. she proceeds to learn and absorb all she can about genetic editing, and with the use of the CRISPR method and friends manning labs, she produces her own genetically edited egg. this is where aklla comes from, she’s planted in her mother’s womb and grows to be a girl who continues her life under a microscope. her mother is constantly poking and prodding at her, in a desperate attempt to note every deviation from regular behaviour from a girl who was tailored. aklla is diagnosed with anti social personality disorder in the future, and as a child is known to have conduct disorder. she’s been called a sociopath more times than she can count and is prone to sudden, and violent outbursts. all in all, a difficult teenager trying to maneuver through a society that works against anyone with any mental diagnosis.

jolene walsh:

honestly jolene’s the only one i have a full bio for, so because i’m lazy catch that here. 

vivian han:

vivian grows up in a house that values tradition, and in particular the image of a good family. her parents are not overtly religious, but they’re devout christian’s. they got married young, and without much thought and this leads to strife in their household. they start to fall out of love right in front of her eyes, but old time tradition and religious beliefs compel them to stay together despite divorce being the healthiest option for them both. being the oldest daughter in the house, vivian often has to play peacekeeper between her parents fights. she grows weary of it, but knows her options are limited. the older she gets, the more time she spends outside of the house. parties where the music is so loud she can’t hear her thoughts, she drinks away whatever she’ll have to face when she gets home. vivian is the fun girl, and the smart girl, and the party girl, and she does whatever she can to keep up every front she has. straight a student, but beloved by her peers. and only because she tries so hard. sometimes that comes with a small mean streak to be accepted by her peers, but she grows out of that quickly. guilt wears on her conscience heavily. an unhealthy relationship is all she knows as she grows up and so it leads her into her own. she dates a boy who becomes her ruin, but she tolerates it because that’s all she knows. she tolerates it even when he pushes her against a wall and she’s worried she has a concussion. he never hits her, and that’s his excuse. she files a restraining order after much thought and push from her friends. but it only makes her wild nights even worse, she has more pain to drink away now.

gabriel and ronan:

two boys that were once part of the same band, now leading two completely different lives. gabriel has always had his head in the clouds, always dreamt of life as a musician. his parents could do little to stop what his heart wanted. as a kid he’d play in shows any chance he got at school, and even kick started his own garage band with his friends. he never wanted to be the star of the show, gabriel was more than happy in the background. and that’s how he becomes the bass player of Golden Ours. he grew up in a bustling house that knew nothing about love, and it’s what he puts out into the world. his energy comes from genuine joy, and the desire to spread kindness. he’s a humble star from humble beginnings, and does his best to not let fame get to his head. naturally, there are slip ups, ones he does his best to hide. but all in all, he makes for pleasant company. not much tragedy in this one, rather typical if you ask me. 

ronan on the other hand grows up in completely different circumstances. the accident child of an alcoholic and a junkie, he never really knows stability in his life. his parents never have a good means to finances, and he picks up odd jobs as a kid to support himself if not his parents. he holds his father’s anger and defends himself after each bark and bite from his parents. he doesn’t grow up in a good house, and he doesn’t know if he likes them more when they’re sober or completely out of their minds. he swings a fist at this father at eighteen and is met with his ass on the curb. with little to nothing to his name, he sofa surfs as long as he can, gets himself jobs here and there, nothing that lasts too long. he comes across gabriel before the band hits the charts and it begins as roommates soon turned bandmates. he joins as lead guitarist. ronan’s one to butt heads with the band often, but at the end of the day, they’re family and family was meant to fight. but the disputes only heighten when ronan pushes them to take deals that come their way. change their look, change their sound, change change change for the mainstream media. they won’t take it, and so ronan does. leaves the band behind and embraces life as someone he doesn’t recognize in the mirror. he goes from alt indie rock to more mainstream pop rock. his manager decides what he wears, what he sings, what he signs up for. the money’s good, but he hates himself. but the money’s good.

mira deol:

mira lives a quiet life for the most part. second oldest daughter of five, their family is never without festivities. she’s a good student, not the top of her class, but trying. she sits in the middle of everything, never too loud, never too quiet. mira seems to breeze by life in the background and a part of her itches to be at the front of the show. she knows she’s not built for it, so instead she’ll smile and nod through it all. her life flips upside down, she becomes part of headlines when her family is killed at sixteen. in the middle of the night, the confront what they think to be a robber. her father and his broken english yelling downstairs, threatening to call the cops when a gun’s pulled out on them. mira, silent, watches from the top of the stairs while her entire family is sat down on the rug. one by one, they’re lined up and taken out with a single shot to the head. execution style. she scampers into a closet, and her hands search the dark floors for the gun she knows her dad has. and she sits there, as quiet as ever, hands shaking as she holds the gun in front of her. she thinks he’s left until she hears the creaks up the stairs and the closet door swings open. she closes her eyes and empties the bullets into her assailant without a second thought. mira’s found with blood, both her own and his, on her body. she hasn’t left the closet when they find her, a neighbour calls when they hear the last round of gunshots. her face takes the newspapers by storm and she’s a charity case. without any other family overseas, she moves in with her next door neighbours. a girl she knows from school. she suffers from traumatic mutism for a year. rehab and therapy get her to open up, and she cries anytime she speaks for another year. her life is spent in and out of therapy, and when she finally moves out and manages to get into university, she lives alone. everything about her life screams at her to live with company, but fear of what happens to company around her forces her into living alone. currently, mira is still healing. it’s been five years since her family’s death and she’s pushing herself back into society slowly. her emotions are hard to handle, and she’s incredibly clingy when she gets attached. 

buster jones:

buster lives a comfortable life. his parents work good jobs and they don’t expect much from him. as the youngest of a trio of boys, he’s the family’s baby for most of his life and he milks it for all it’s worth. he spends most of his time gaming, eating, or hanging out with friends. never the best student, but he manages to pull through with the tutors his parents throw at him a countless number of times. he doesn’t tell them that he’s paid kids to do his homework and essays, they don’t need to know that. but when both brothers leave the house, grow old enough to make it out on their own, the attention turns back to buster. buster who does nothing for the family but eat half the contents of their fridge, which can no longer be excuse as the appetite of a growing boy. so his parents make him take up a job, any job, they tell him, and so he goes to work at a mcdonald’s. he reckons it’ll be the least amount of effort he’ll have to put in, and impossible to get fired from. plus, free fries anytime he so pleased. he’s working through his last year of highschool, projected to have to take a fifth year if summer courses fail him. when he makes it to college he takes up criminal justice. not with the dreams of being a lawyer like his mother so hopes, but with the dream of getting into the fbi. only because it looks cool on television and he swears they know everything about area 51, and the gps’ that babies are injected with. an avid reader of conspiracies that he spouts like his life depends on it, what he doesn’t have in book smart, he also doesn’t have much in street smart. how buster makes it through the day, everyone wonders. but somehow he does.

elena castillo:

she grows up doted on. an only child, given the world at her every whim. her father loves her, her mother loves her, but doesn’t have to love as much since her father takes care of that part. her father dies when she’s eight, and her mother doesn’t take it well. elena had shown various talents at a young age, and the one her mother hones in on is her ability to skate. never having taken professional figure skating, her mother says it’s time for her to try. she doesn’t protest much, knows just how pushy her mother can be. she’s a good child for the most part, prone to temper tantrums, but mother knows best. elena’s mother focuses all her energy on her daughter, and it becomes obsessive. like a pageant mom, she signs her up for every competition under the stars. elena is bound to win most of them, and that’s because her mother doesn’t let her rest until she gets her routine down pat. elena’s perfectionism is taught and forced down her throat, it doesn’t come naturally. it doesn’t take long for the girl to embrace that figure skating has become her life. pulled out of classes on a whim just to participate in competitions, she learns how to catch up with classwork quickly without disappointing her mother. she never admits it, but she seeks validation from the one parent she still has. thinks maybe she’ll gain the same love she got from her father if she does it right. elena is quick to snap as she grows older. becomes her biggest critique, and with it comes a sharp attitude that she’s quick to lash out onto others. she projects her own insecurities, and drags people down to bring herself up. she’s now a professional figure skater, one of the best of her age at twenty. but it didn’t come easy, and she’s not willing to give it up easy. in front of the cameras and the crews she waves and smiles. once the lights drop, so does the facade and she doesn’t bother to lift a finger for anyone she deems not worth her time. she becomes more like mother, and over the years, they become more like partners than mother and daughter. their relationship is never healthy.

luciana pereira: prev lucarus

has the sexiest bio it deserves a read here

imogen, willa, devna mini bios coming soon !

[aion-rsa]

Friday Night Dinner: the Best Episodes

https://ift.tt/3urFJpq

Friday Night Dinner is ten.

That’s ten years of crimble-crumble, humble bumbling, manic misunderstandings, and more lovely bits of squirrel than you could shake a dead fox at. For thirty-seven Friday nights across six glorious seasons the Goodman family – shirtless dad, Martin (Paul Ritter); long-suffering but ever hopeful mum, Jackie (Tamsin Greig), and their visiting prank-wanker sons Adam (Simon Bird) and Jonny (Tom Rosenthal) – served up a banquet of laughs to a hungry nation, ably assisted by chronically persistent, reality-adjacent next-door-neighbour, Jim (Mark Heap) and his faithful dog, Wilson, and a host of other regulars and monstrously memorable one-offs besides. 

In celebration, then, of one of the most smartly-observed, perfectly-cast comedies of recent years, in chronological order, we count down ten of the show’s best.

The Sofabed

Series 1, Episode 1

Most first episodes – nay entire first series – of new comedies can be scattergun. Maybe the characters haven’t quite coalesced, or their fictional universe doesn’t feel ‘lived in’ yet. Not so with Friday Night Dinner. The show arrived fully-formed, with the Goodmans seeming as real as any family in your street; perhaps even your own family.

All of the gags, rituals and dynamics destined to run and grow and fold back in upon themselves throughout the series’ run are here: Martin’s secrets, conspiracies and hearing difficulties; Jim’s constant interruptions; Adam and Johnny’s brutal one-upmanship; the salt-in-the-water prank; Martin’s fondness for shouting ‘shit on it’.

The first episode revolves around the selling of a sofabed (with a brief sojourn into conspiracy when Martin inveigles his children into helping him hide the old magazines Jackie has ordered him to destroy), a simple enough transaction that turns to tragedy when death comes (quite literally) calling. Martin’s mis-hearing and misunderstanding of a crucial piece of information whilst standing at the bottom of a stair-and-couch-based conga line brings the series first proper belly-laugh, and with it the realisation that Friday Night Dinner is going to be something special.          

Mr Morris

Series 2, Episode 2

Mr Morris, played by Harry Landis, is a marvellous comic creation. With his predilection for getting topless and dressing people down at the dinner table, he’s like a malignant, mirror-universe version of Martin. With the eyes of Mr Magoo and the moustache of Adolf Hitler – and something of the bearing of both – Mr Morris, Granny’s new and very married boyfriend, quickly establishes himself as the dinner guest from Hell.

After crashing into their house and blaming them for the damage, the pugilistic, preening, proud, petty, and pretty much certifiably insane pensioner goes on to engage in horrendously public displays of affection with Granny; shout angrily over the phone at his 95-year-old wife; make Adam and Johnny pay for the, well, johnnies he later planned to use on their grandma; accuse Adam of sexual assault, and then challenge the whole household to a half-naked fist fight. Just another Friday night at the Goodman’s. 

The Mouse

Series 2, Episode 6

‘Mouse’ marks the first time that Jim manages to get his feet under the dinner table of the Goodman home, and it’s everything you could have hoped for. And more.

Normally the family manufactures its own chaos during the weekly meal – with extra helpings of misunderstandings, feuds, schadenfreude, embarrassment and horror – but here the Goodmans are cast as the straight men to Jim’s one-man reality-wrecking crew. While interpersonal connections and rituals are alien to Jim, the Goodmans’ set of mannerisms and catchphrases are his greatest challenge yet. His interpretation of their Jewish faith is equal parts sweet to absolutely bonkers, and only Jim’s anxiety, eagerness to please, incomprehension, and molten naivety keeps things from becoming insulting.

All of the Goodman rituals to which the viewer has become accustomed rain down on Jim in a hail of friendly fire, leading him to gargle on ‘Jewish water’ and scrutinise his dinner plate for hints of squirrel. The moment where Jim briefly considers whether he should eat the episode’s eponymous mouse as it scurries onto his dinner plate is pure comedy gold. 

Christmas

Series 2, Episode 7

This episode features the first appearance of Rosalind Knight as Martin’s mother, or ‘Horrible Grandma’ as she’s known to the family. Christmas is supposed to be a time of peace and celebration, but that’s not an easy ask when your guest of dishonour is a terrifying little lady who’s equal parts Livia Soprano to the Shushing Library Spook from Ghostbusters. Very few Christmases contain the line, ‘Thanks for raping our grandma’s dog on Christmas day’, fewer still see a grandson sharing his grandma’s dog’s oxygen mask, but then nobody does Christmas like the Goodmans. And they’re not even supposed to be doing it.

There’s a surprisingly beautiful moment at the end of this episode, courtesy of resident oddball, Jim, that – like all of the other rare occasions on which the show veers towards sentimentality – is quickly undercut by a well-timed, and very welcome, gag. 

Read more

TV

New British Comedy TV Series for 2021: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Netflix, ITV

By Louisa Mellor

TV

50 best British comedy TV shows on Netflix UK, BBC iPlayer, Amazon Prime, NOW TV, Britbox, All4, UKTV Play

By Louisa Mellor

The Girlfriend

Series 3, Episode 1

Adam finally meets his match: an eight-year-old girl who blackmails him into a chaste but never-the-less irritating and inappropriate ‘relationship’ following the discovery of a racy, unsolicited picture of his girlfriend’s sister on his phone, while his girlfriend is there at the Goodman house for dinner. Thus unfolds an evening of unusual foot-washing, forced transvestism, secrets, lies, panic, and a stunning coup de grace from Jonny, who helps put the final nail into the coffin of his brother’s fledgling relationship.  

The Fox

Series 3, Episode 2

Martin likes to squirrel away a great many things, many of them ridiculous, most of them out of sight of his wife. But Johnny and Adam probably weren’t expecting to discover a dead fox in their father’s chest freezer, much less find themselves enlisted to help move it around town like a hitman’s hairy bounty until the heat died down long enough for their father to have it stuffed. The funniest thing about Martin’s many hare-brained (or, in this case, fox-brained) schemes is the energy he throws at them, the sort of logistical chicanery seldom seen this side of the CIA. Watching the men of the family toddle around hither and thither with a dead fox, hiding it in the dining room, hurling it in cupboards, wedging it through windows, is exactly as funny as it sounds, and – as always – just when you think Martin’s got away with it… he hasn’t.  

The Two Tonys

Series 4, Episode 1

Martin is an exceptionally quick-thinker. Unfortunately, his speed of thought is seldom married with precision, and he usually finds himself blurting something out at the start of an evening and spending the rest of that evening teetering on the edge of oblivion, with his long-suffering wife ready to push him off. His blurt-out in ‘The Two Tonys’, though, is perhaps his most desperate and ill-considered. In a bid to encourage Jason Watkins’ Tony – a loathed associate from years ago Martin had invited to dinner believing him to be another, better Tony – to leave the Goodman home, he forces Jackie to go along with the ruse that her mother has just died. This gambit, like all Goodman gambits, backfires spectacularly, and what follows is a farce worthy of Frasier, everything culminating in a desperate chase and the furious weaponisation of a pineapple. 

The Funeral

Series 4, Episode 5

Friday Night Dinner deals with death incredibly often, and incredibly well, wringing joyous laughter from that most terrifying and inevitable of our shared fates. Here we have another delicious dose of Horrible Grandma, who’s in town to lay to rest her dear departed brother, Saul. Martin is pressured into giving Saul’s eulogy, even though he never really knew or liked his uncle all that much. Cue a day of stress, arrests, tense stand-offs and tantrums, ending with an uninvited Jim appearing at Saul’s graveside clutching four black balloons, while Martin proceeds to recite Saul’s death certificate in lieu of a proper farewell. Immediately following a Grand Prix-inspired coffin malfunction, Jim’s dog Wilson enters stage-left to put a necro-quasi-cannibalistic spin on the ending of Todd Solondz‘s Happiness.      

Dad’s Birthday

Series 6, Episode 4

Horrible Grandma might make for a terrible dinner guest, but she makes for a perfect guest star. This time, we bid her goodbye for good, but not before a great deal of caustic put-downs, cathartic showdowns and perhaps the funniest, most macabre magic trick of all time, courtesy of resident ‘magician’ Jim.

Females

Series 6, Episode 6  

‘Females’ wasn’t intended to be the final episode of the series, at least according to comments made by series’ creator Robert Popper immediately following its transmission. And it still might not be the end. But it’s hard to imagine a better, funnier or more touching swan-song for the show, with or without the tragic death of Paul Ritter.

Adam and Jonny finally have ‘females’ (as their progressive dad has always called their prospective girlfriends) in their lives at the same time, and Jackie is overjoyed to be welcoming them into her home. She thinks the evening is going to be perfect, which is rather naïve of her considering that she’s married to Martin.

Sure enough, Martin manages to contaminate every course of the meal with shards of broken glass, a calamity he’s forced to reveal to everyone but Jackie, going on to enlist their help in somehow preventing the matriarch from choking to death, while simultaneously preventing her from discovering the depths of his dangerous ineptitude. Martin is, of course, thoroughly rumbled, but before Jackie can strike him down with great anger and furious vengeance, two pregnancies are announced in quick and joyous succession.

‘Females’ is solidly, classically funny, but it’s the episode’s smaller, more intimate moments that will linger longest in the imagination: the brothers’ new-found, prank-less affection for each other; the subdued but sincere affection between Jackie and Martin as they discuss their new roles and the future; and the now suddenly larger Goodman family dancing as one in the living room. As codas go, it’s a damn near perfect one.

If Friday Night Dinner comes back, let it be in twenty years when Adam and Jonny are middle-aged. For now, I hope Martin gets to enjoy many long years as a granddad.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Friday Night Dinner series 1-6 are available to stream in the UK on All4 and Netflix.           

The post Friday Night Dinner: the Best Episodes appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3p1fS6G

[tanjhero-a]

Life’s Trials to Meeting You

Pairing: Tanjirou x You (Gender Neutral Reader)

Prompt: Soulmates - Shared Scars 

Word Count: 4,502 (wow!! thats 11 fucking pages on docs yall. my god)

A/N: This is my fic based off the results of the poll! This fic was originally made as a celebration for 60 followers, and since then, this blog now has 130! I’m very thankful and flattered so many of you are here. I hope you all enjoy this rather lengthy fic- I had a lot of fun writing it!

You’ve lived your whole life in moderate peace. You lived in a modest household with several siblings and your father. Life was dull, but it was safe. Your house was in the middle of a small town and you visited the same shops every day and talked to the same people. 

You yearned for more. To travel out of town and meet someone new, do something new, something… exciting. You voiced this want to your sisters, but never your father. He loved you dearly, you knew, which is why he wanted you to live your modest and easy life. There was no danger in that.

But your father was a fool. Danger lurked everywhere, especially where you don’t expect it. It stays there, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike. And finally, danger did come- in the form of a fierce demon that ate its way through the village in a single night. Your father had you take your sisters and run into the forest for help, making you leave him behind ultimately for his own death. 

Most of your sisters didn’t make it. One of them refused to leave father behind, and another one didn’t stick close to you and got lost in the ruins of your town before she was gobbled up. Your last sister, Tamako, was only three, and she was only safe because you held her so, so tightly in your arms as you kept running far from what used to be your home. 

Eventually, the adrenaline to stay alive wore out and you stumbled your way to a beautiful tree. Your vision was fuzzy as you forced your tired limbs to climb it, your sister holding you close on your back. The purple, beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere around the tree and hid both of you somewhat effectively. “We’ll be safe here,” you assured Tamako and situated her in your lap. “The flowers will keep us safe.” 

You really didn’t know that you were actually incredibly lucky and that the Wisteria tree you hid in warded off demons- you just prayed that the demon was full and wouldn’t kill any more of your family. You held Tamako all night as she cried, and though you felt like crying yourself, you kept the tears at bay. 

You had to be strong now. There was no other way.

---

When you awoke the next morning, it was because of Tamako’s cries. You immediately jolted to see what was wrong, only to wince and cry out in pain. She was crying because of the blood staining your shirt, which happened to be the problem. 

Did you get hurt last night and not even notice?

“It’s okay, Tamako, it’s okay!” It wasn’t, but what else could you say? Your body felt woozy still, probably from blood loss, but you still collected her in your arms. “We’ll be okay. We’ll find the next town and get help and food. Aren’t you hungry?”

The change in subject seemed to calm her down. She sniffles, snot smeared across her face which you wipe off with your sleeve gently. “..yeah.” 

“Me too,” you smile. “Get on my back, Tamako, then I’ll climb down.”

She clings to you tightly as you do so, and your feet slip a few times as you work your way down the trunk. Now that you’re aware of the gash in your side, it burns and screams with each move you make. Your just glad your sister can’t see the pain on your face as you finally make it to the ground with a loud groan.

“Okay, what would you like to eat?” You keep her on your back with your arms wrapped around her tiny legs, walking in a random direction. The first thing you needed to do was find a road, and then you could find a town. 

“Buns!” Tamako yells. “...Fish. Rice.”

“That sounds yummy,” you nod your head. “Maybe we can get something sweet, too.”

“Yeah!” Her legs kick excitedly and you sigh. She’s buzzing with energy so you let her down. 

“Don’t leave my side, Tamako,” you tell her gently and continue to walk forward.

Both of you walk for what seems like hours before you reach a road, and then hours after that before you reach a town. You carry Tamako at various times despite your wound, because she gets tired and you can’t afford to stop moving. You’re lucky you finally saw buildings in the distance when you did because you’re not sure how much longer you can stay conscious. 

You stop in your tracks and slowly sit on the ground. Tamako stands beside you, holding your hand. “Listen to me,” you hold her small fingers tightly as you look into her dark eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I can’t walk any further. I need… I need you to walk the rest of the way by yourself and get help.” 

“What?” Tamako’s lips wobble into a frown. “I can’t!” 

“No, I know you can, Tamako!” You pull her into a tight hug. “It will be okay. You are so strong, I know you can do it. Follow the road, and get help when you see a person. Lead them back to me.” 

Your sister holds you back as tight as she can, her body shaking with small sobs. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just… need rest.” You kiss her forehead and let Tamako go. “I love you. I know you can do it.”

You squeeze her hand one more time before the little girl scampers off, running with all her might. You sigh once she escapes your view before you lay down. The best thing you can do is try to focus on your breathing, keeping yourself alert and calm as you wait. Everything in your body hurts- your legs, your side, your hands, and arms… You don’t know if you’ll make it, to be honest. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your breathing comes to a slow. It’s too hard to stay awake any longer- could you sleep as you wait for Tamako?

Something, some far off thing deep inside your head says that’s a bad idea, but you’re too far gone to listen to the warning. 

---

When you awake, you’re somewhere completely different. Inside a house, it looks like… Did Tamako get you help?

“You’re awake,” A voice comes from another part of the room, and when you look to your left you see a beautiful woman with a butterfly inspired haori wrapped around her. “Your sister was rather worried, and so was I. Your injury was dire.”

“Tamako…” You try to speak but your throat is hoarse and dry. The woman notices and takes a cup next to your bed. She gently lifts you up enough so you can drink it. It’s tea, you realize, and even though it tastes vile you down it all in one go. You grimace once you’re done and the woman laughs. 

“It’s medicine. It will help you heal, but it doesn’t taste very good.” She lays you back down and places the cup on the stand. “Now, my dear, what happened?”

You sink into the pillows with a frown. “My town… it was attacked by a man-eating monster. I… I was supposed to protect my sisters, but only Tamako and I made it. I must have… gotten hurt, but I can’t remember how.” You don’t want to remember. You don’t want to think back to that night in any capacity. “My sister and I hid in a tree for the night, and then we walked for a really long time before I couldn’t anymore. I had her find help for me…” You look around the room, noticing there are several other beds but none of them have your sister tucked in. “Where is she?”

“This is where we keep our sick and hurt. Tamako only had a few scrapes, so she’s not here. I think she’s playing with the other children.” The woman sits down on the bed next to you, looking sorrowful as she holds her hands. “I’m sorry about your town. We actually have people there now, burying the bodies… I can have someone take you there so you can mourn when you are healed.”

Something about what she said makes you wonder. “Who are you?” You ask. “Who is ‘we’?”

“I forgot I didn’t introduce myself, I’m sorry,” the woman smiles. “I’m Shinobu. I’m a part of a group called Demon Slayers… we do just that. Protect who we can and kill demons.” 

Where were you, then? You can’t help but think. Where were you when my family was murdered?

Shinobu seems to sense your thoughts. She frowns and you think it’s unfair that even when she’s upset, she still looks so beautiful. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for you when your town was attacked.”

You don’t want to forgive her, her or her group, but you already have. You don’t have it in you to hold a grudge against these people who you don’t even know. “It’s impossible to save everyone,” you whisper. “I know that. At least you are trying to do what you can.”

Shinobu seems grateful for your comment. But then, out of nowhere, she asks you something rather bizarre. “Have you always had that scar on your head?” 

“Oh, that?” You subconsciously reach up and touch it. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. Originally, it looked a bit different… it just appeared on me one day. And then years later, I get this headache and the scar changed shape.” Your father never liked to talk about your mysterious scar, and no one brought it up in the village. You had almost forgotten about it, honestly.

Shinobu looks at you a bit strangely. You wonder what the problem is before she sighs. “Were you never taught about soulmates?” She asks.

“Soulmates?” The word feels funny on your tongue. What on earth was that? “No… what is it?” 

“Oh dear,” Shinobu says under her breath, frowning a bit. “I’m not the best at explaining it, but everyone has a supposed ‘soulmate’. You know this because of your scars.” She stares at your forehead. “Soulmates are people destined for each other. So, technically saying, that scar isn’t your own. It’s the scar of your soulmate.” Then she looks down at your stomach. “They will probably have quite a scare next time they take off their clothes.”

You realize she’s talking about your scar, now. Quite frankly, your mind is blown. Someone meant for you? Sharing wounds? That seems so… otherworldly. Did your father know about this? Why didn’t he tell you?

You raise your hand to your head again, tenderly touching the red mark there. “Oh…” You look over to the butterfly dressed woman. “Does everyone know about soulmates?”

“It’s fairly common to know about it, I don’t know why you didn’t.” Shinobu nods. “Anyways, I should leave now. You need to rest.”

She leaves quite quickly, leaving you alone in the large room. You’re stunned still but can’t resist the alluring call of rest. Soulmates… It could wait another time.

---

The next two weeks are spent at what you learned is the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu and her team of little doctors help you heal, and they give you goals for each day. Today, you had to walk around the garden, making three laps. It drained you to your core, but Tamako ran circles around you to keep you motivated. 

It was hard not to give up, especially when you thought about what would happen once you were better. You’d have to visit your family’s graves, and then what? You and Tamako no longer had a home. What were you going to do…?

“Come on! Come on! You can do it!” Tamako cheers, shaking you out of your reverie. Well, you were far from being completely better, so those thoughts aren’t important now. 

You can worry about it later. For now, you want to enjoy your time at the estate and have Tamako as happy as she can be.

---

The day to leave has finally come, filling you with dread.

The people at the butterfly estate were so kind and helpful, so loving, that they began to feel like a second family to you and Tamako. You didn’t want to leave them at all, but it had to be done. A new, messy and worrisome chapter has opened in your life and it was time to start it. 

Tamako’s friends, the little nurses, helped pack your bags with anything you would need since you had basically nothing. They gave you food for your journey as well, rice balls and dumplings, making Tamako cheer happily. She played with everyone for one last time as you stood by the gate, watching them run around with sad eyes. 

“You’re welcome to come back,” a voice comes from behind you, and you realize it’s Shinobu. 

“I didn’t think you would be here! Weren’t you on a mission?” You embrace her tightly, glad that you were able to see her before you left. She hugs you back with gentle hands. 

“I finished up quickly. I know you don’t have a place to stay after you visit your family’s graves…” She lets you go with a sigh, looking at your scar again and touching it gently. You noticed that Shinobu lingered on your soulmate mark quite frequently, but you never knew why. “What if you stayed here? I could teach you and Tamako how to use medicine and heal.”

“But- you work with demons. Isn’t it dangerous?” You shake your head. “Tamako and I wouldn’t survive this life. We weren’t made for it.”

“But maybe you are,” Shinobu smiles. “This mark…” She taps the scar with her thumb. “It is a warrior’s mark.”

You have a feeling she knows more than she’s telling you. Shinobu’s always been that way, and it’s frustrating, but you know she’s looking out for you. “I can’t fight,” you tell her. “But… If you help me, I will try. But I won’t put Tamako through it, not for many years.”

Shinobu looks delighted by your answer as she hugs you again. “Wonderful. Then come back home safe.”

...Home. You hold her back, tears in your eyes. “I will.”

---

Once you made it back to the butterfly estate with Tamako, things got better. You trained so you could at least swing a katana and do some damage, though it felt silly since you were ultimately doing all this just to become a nurse. Shinobu pushed you though, telling you that it was better to be prepared and know how to fight than be helpless. You agreed with her, but it didn’t make the training any easier, along with studying medicine and healing techniques.

There was one night where you had trained alone, out in the forest focusing on the breathing techniques that Shinobu taught you and slashing at the trees. It was a quiet, uneventful night before you heard rustling in the distance. You were all alone, but at least you had your katana. You face the noise with a fierce grip on your weapon,  practically shaking in your boots before- wham- you’re shoved to the ground. 

Someone had run right into you, apparently, sending you both flying and rolling in the dirt. When you looked up to see who it was, you were quite surprised to see… a demon.

Your hairs stand on edge as you stare at the female demon and she stares back. Her eyes are a bright pink, her long hair colored red at the ends. And, most surprisingly, a stick of bamboo is tied around her head to cover her mouth. “Are…” Your throat is dry all of a sudden. “Are you okay..?”

You really didn’t know what to do. Your only experience with a demon was the one that killed your family, but you’re getting a whole different vibe from this one. Is that possible? 

The demon’s pink eyes look up at the mark on your forehead, her eyebrows drifting up in surprise. But whatever moment the two of you had ended when another demon comes bustling through, headed straight for you.

Without thinking, you take your sword and slice at the other demon, its arm coming right off. You take a defensive stance in front of the girl, and you don’t really know why. The demon looks outright repulsed that you stopped it, but you can tell it’s inexperienced and dumb by how quickly you managed to cut off its head. 

Suddenly you became hyper aware of your surroundings, and you knew you weren’t alone. There were more of them. Looking back to the girl demon, your eyes soften as you reach out a hand. “You were running away, right?” You ask her. “Come on, let’s go.”

Surprisingly, she takes your hand, and for some reason, she knows exactly where to go. The two of you run together, but she leads, taking you somewhere but you don’t know where. You would ask, but considering how her mouth is busy with bamboo, you decide to trust her.

Why? You really, really don’t know. Maybe you’re stupid.

More demons come, and even though you were told they don’t work together, it seems an awful lot like what they’re doing since they all seem desperate to kill you both. You fight until you’re drained, and then you keep fighting after that because it��s the only thing you can do to stay alive. You’re still inexperienced, though, and you can tell you aren’t breathing right anymore. The battle has overwhelmed and frightened you to your core, and you keep thinking, Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Who is this for?

Another figure, alone this time, jumps from out of nowhere and goes right for your demonic ally. Your body almost naturally intervenes, holding your katana up to the stranger’s neck with a fierce look on your face. You’ve already realized that he’s not a demon, but the girl is, and you can’t have him killing her. “Back off,” you snarl at him.

“Wh- oh-” the boy’s eyes go wide, looking at you in disbelief. “It’s okay. That- that’s my sister,” he stutters, and his eyes never leave you. He’s not even meeting your eyes, he keeps looking at… your forehead.

How did you not notice his own scar before? “Oh,” you mimic, the grip on your katana loosening as you point it to the ground. You look back at the demon behind you, your mind overwhelmed and dizzy. “Your sister…?” 

“Nezuko,” the boy- your soulmate, apparently- calls to her and the girl demon happily returns to his side. “I… Who are you?” He asks. 

“I’m…” You blink rapidly, looking at the ground. God, why was everything so fuzzy? “I’m…” Did you already say that? You look to the boy, concern in his gaze. 

Before you can say or do anything else, the exhaustion from running and fighting your first battle catches up with your body, and you’re falling to the ground as your brain decides to shut off. 

---

Voices are what wake you up. Angry, concerned tones that make you think that maybe people were fighting nearby. Fighting..?

“-can’t believe you got them mixed up in your mess, they aren’t ready-“ 

Was that Shinobu?

“-you knew and you never told me?” 

You didn’t know that voice, that’s for sure, but for some reason, it sent a warm feeling down your spine. 

“-not ready-“

“-not your decision to make-“

When you sit up, you’re hit with a wild headache that pounds your skull. “Gods,” you hiss in pain, and suddenly the fighting that you heard before stops. You blindly reach next to you, knowing there’s a cup of water, medicine, something, waiting for you. Someone hands you what you’re looking for and you murmur thanks as you down what was thankfully just water. 

When you finally blink your eyes open, you see Shinobu first, and a nervous boy lingering behind her. You recognize him but you can’t quite remember… then you look at his familiar mark and remember quite vividly who he is and you stop looking at him. 

Soulmate. 

It’s dead quiet before you muster up the courage to speak. “I’m fine, Shinobu,” you try to reassure her. “I know I’m inexperienced and I shouldn’t be dealing with demons… I know I’m only learning these skills for self defense, but… she needed help.” That’s all you could say.

“For all you knew, she was another demon. She could have torn you apart.” Shinobu says, anger still in her tone but you look up to her in defiance.

“But she didn’t! She… I know it’s weird, but I knew she wouldn’t hurt me.” You touch your chest, over your heart. “I could feel it.” 

Shinobu sighs, turning away from you. You can tell she’s conflicted. “You are still so ignorant.” That’s all she has to say before she leaves the room, leaving only you and your mysterious soulmate inside.

“I suppose I was ignorant. She’s not wrong. There’s still so much I haven’t seen or done…” you speak aloud, slowly working up the courage to look at him. “But I was right, wasn't I?”

The boy smiles at you so softly, making him look so trusting and handsome that your heart feels like it’s going to burst. He sits on the edge of your bed, next to your feet. You notice that his checkered haori is gone and instead he just wears his Slayer Uniform.

“You were,” he nods. “It makes sense why you would feel that way, considering…”

The both of you blush at the acknowledgment. He clears his throat with a laugh before he presents his hand to you. “I’m Tanjirou Kamado.”

It’s rather silly, but you indulge him and shake his hand. It’s firm and calloused, clearly he’s more experienced with a katana than you are. You give him your own name. “Your sister… Nezuko?” Tanjirou nods, slowly letting go of your hand. “How did that happen?” You ask, before quickly skidding to a stop nervously, “only if you want to tell me, of course.”

Tanjirou laughs, and even though you’re embarrassed, you think his laughter is beautiful. “Of course, I’ll tell you anything, ___,” he looks at you so adoringly that you’re sure that your heart really did burst by now.

The two of you spent what felt like minutes but was truly hours together, talking about your lives and tragedies, everything that led up to this. You found that you felt wonderful around Tanjirou, and talking to him was easy and comfortable. Somewhere between the stories, your hands found each other again, and they stayed linked and warm together as you talked. When you explained the demon attack on your village and how you got your scar, his eyes burned with empathy.

If anyone knew what losing your family to demons was like, it was him. Tanjirou was just sorry that you had to witness it with your own eyes- he was lucky enough to only see the aftermath. 

“I always wondered what had happened to you when I saw it on my side. It made me wonder what kind of person you were.” His thumb rubs the top of your hand gently. You can tell by his hesitation that he has something on his mind, but won’t say it. You smile and squeeze his hand.

“I’ve lived with siblings too, you know. I can tell when someone is thinking too much about something.” You try to help him relax with your comparison. Tanjirou chuckles, shoulders relaxing as he looks at you in a shy manner.

“I was just wondering if I could see it. Your scar.”

You understand why he was embarrassed and why he wanted to ask. It’s evidence of your connection. Tanjirou’s scar is so easy to see, but yours is hidden beneath clothes. “It’s okay,” you tell him, sitting up a little straighter against your pillows and finally let go of his hand. You lift up your medical garb just enough that he can see it, the smooth and light skin that covered the side of your stomach and waist. It’s big and ugly, in your opinion.

“It’s really there,” Tanjirou whispers, reaching out and touching the scar gently with his fingertips. “You really don’t remember how you got it?”

“I don’t remember a lot of that night. I think I blacked it out, erased it from my mind. To make things easier,” you whisper and Tanjirou nods in understanding, letting you put your shirt back down. “I wish I could have been like you, Tanjirou. Strong and willpowered, learning how to get revenge on demons and protect the ones I love,” you look down at your hands. They were so small and soft compared to his. “But I’m not a fighter, not really. All I can do is hope that tragedy won’t happen again.” 

“You are a fighter,” Tanjirou tells you. And when you look up at him, you can tell he’s not lying. “You protected Nezuko for me… you protected Tamako. You’re learning medicine to help others, and learning basic techniques so you can defend yourself if you need it.” You hate when he looks you right in the eye. How can one man make you feel so important? “That sounds strong to me.”

“When you put it like that…” you grumble.

“Good,” Tanjirou smiles again. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how pretty he looks when he smiles. “You should go back to bed. You need rest after your fight.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” You’re slightly nervous that he’ll leave as you sleep because his life is probably busy. 

“Yes,” he assures you. “We still have a lot to talk about.” 

You agree. The fact that you and Tanjirou are soulmates- that’s a life changer, isn’t it? Things are bound to be affected and shift. 

Tanjirou is kind and cheesy enough to tuck you in, giving you a shy kiss on your head, right next to the scar that brought you both together. “Tanjirou?” You whisper. “Is it okay that things turned out this way? That I’m your soulmate?” 

“Absolutely,” he assures you. “Things will become different, but that isn’t bad. I’m glad I found you. Or, well, Nezuko is the one that found you,” the boy laughs softly and cups your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” you say back, your cheeks positively warm under his touch. He kisses your forehead again before finally tearing away, exiting the room with a small ‘goodnight’ and leaving you with your thoughts.

Honestly, you feel good. Meeting Tanjirou seems like the start of something big, strange, and wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you feel like things are going to be alright. You can do this- you can fight and live. 

And you look forward to doing it all with your soulmate.

[daintysailor]

How to partake in current political matters, care about the thousands of issues continuing to be brought to light, and not get overwelled by it all:

I know this is a block of text, so if this is something you struggle with, please read. If it isn't, don't bother and just skip this lol.

I grew up in an incredibly conservative household, sheltered from the existence of social issues or different points of view. As a teenager, once I learned of social issues, I seemed learn about them all at once. Then in college I was disowned, making me poor for the first time, and all of these social issues suddenly started effecting my life personally.

I definitely had to learn empathy that I wasn't taught as a child, and this newfound empathy overwelled my constantly. I started to feel burned out from constantly seeing more new and continuing issues that were so inhumane that I couldn't believe they existed. I know this is a common experience for many people who followed nearly the same life path. And then all of a sudden something changed. I could get fiery passionate about issues and keep it up. My attention on issues didn't fizzle out, but I also didn't burn out. I got angry for blm, and I could keep it up. I could take the criticism telling me the changes I needed to make on myself, and I could also handle debating racists.

At first I didn't notice because it was a growth separate from my political views. I learned how to expend my energy separately from my passion. It became an emotional issue rather than a political one. I was disowned by my family, but they refused to admit that's what they were doing. My mom wouldn't let me see or even talk to my brothers, and then she would turn around and ask why I didn't care enough about them to talk to them. I stressed about how I could help my brothers while they were still stuck with my parents far away from me. It was agonizing. And then one day I had to come to terms with the fact that it was not my responsibility to get my brothers out. I know that sounds harsh, but stick with me. The realization came from listening to an r/aita story. A kid's dad walked out on him when he was like 3 or something. His dad then cut all contact and made a new life for himself. The kid tried to reach out a couple of times, and the dad responded by saying "I want to pretend to that part of my life never existed, please respect my wishes." And so the kid grew up without that man in his life. In the kids 40s or something, the kid's dad reaches out to him out of the blue to ask for the kid's kidney for the dad's new family's daughter. The kid pointed out that this man was a stranger to him. This was a stranger asking for a kidney. The kid didn't want to have surgery, so he said no. The dad got angry. He said the kid was responsible if his daughter couldn't get a kidney. Except he isn't. Neither that man nor his daughter are entitled to that kidney. Now you might say "Well I would give up my kidney to save a girl's life," and that's cool, but you're still not obligated to do that. Sure, if you want to be nice or whatever, you totally can still do that, but it. is. not. your. responsibility. I might want to still do what I can to help my brothers, but it is not my responsibility. It's not fair to put that weight on myself. What about caring about them? What about worrying about them? I can still think of them and check in with them, but I don't stress myself out with things that I can't control. I still feel bad that my brothers are stuck at home, and I'll do what I can to help them, but my care for them doesn't keep me up at night. I have not started caring less about them or thinking of them less, I just don't put unnecessary stress on myself.

I do the most I can to be a good person. I educate myself and make sure I am aware of current-day affairs. I practice self-introspection, to make sure I am not putting more negativity out there. I don't beat myself up over past decisions because my goal is to just be a good person. I know that when I look back, I can say I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time. I've said bad things in the past, but I didn't have the perspective or knowledge that I have now. Now I can stop myself from saying bad things. Now I can help someone who is where I was in the past by explain things from the way I learned to change.

BLM still matters. I still support the protests. I still talk to people about what is going on. I still post and read new stories. I still cry at every story of a death, and ever experience. I still donate, go to protests, stand up where I can, discover new racial injustice, share more stories, discover new solutions to issues. I still feel ever single one of those emotions, but I remember that I'm doing what I can. Yes our world is in shambles. That sucks, but I AM DOING WHAT I CAN. Yes, there are tons of issues, but if you are doing the most you can, you are good!

Before I end, I just want to remind you, the gist is to do what you can and wipe your hands clean of things you can't do anything about, but remember to still practice self-reflection. Don't negate criticism by saying "I've done what I can." As much as my parents cut me off, I cut them off. My parents were emotionally abusive. I tried to talk to my dad about the terrible things he was saying in hopes to show him how his hurtful words with effect my brothers. My sister left home as well and also tried to address the exact same concerns. My dad responded back by saying "Daintysailor already called my abusive. Your lies can't effect me anymore." My sister and I didn't want to make my dad feel guilty, we wanted to get him to see the error in his ways so he could change for the future. If you get outside feedback, someone telling an issue they have with you, sometimes it is an attempt to just make you feel bad. But sometimes it is an attempt to get you to see something you're doing wrong. Don't bother with guilt or stress, but don't become blind. Learn to control your emotions, and turn your energy towards loving the person you are trying to become.

Take pride in wanting to be a good person.

[publiccollectors]

QUARANZINE #14

QUARANZINE #14: Rachel Herman. Rachel was diagnosed as a presumptive positive for COVID-19 after a test for Influenza A and B turned up negative. She's been fighting the virus for just over two weeks. Yesterday she posted this long message on Facebook about her experience so far and I asked her about publishing it in QUARANZINE. She had been thinking about reaching out to me, so we were both on the same page. The text is very long for the format I adhere to so the type is quite small, unfortunately. Here it is in its entirety: Dear friends,

This is the week many of us will get sick. Social distancing is working, but most cities waited too long to declare shelter-in-place orders and many others have yet to. So, we will see spikes in confirmed cases within the next week or so. I want you all to be armed with pragmatic and useful information if this happens to you or someone you care about.

I am on Day 14 of what was diagnosed as a presumptive positive for COVID-19 after a test for Influenza A and B turned up negative. (I am still waiting for my COVID-19 results.) I’ve had a relatively mild case, and I’m on the mend. My congestion is clearing up, I can breathe deeply again, and going up and down the stairs doesn’t make me winded. My energy and appetite are coming back though I still have had a fever of 100+ for 14 straight days. Most of us will get a mild case. 40-70% of us will get it, but so much of the media frenzy right now is focused on things that were important last week and yesterday (every day feels a year these days, though, to be fair). I have seen shockingly few articles or helpful testimonials advising how best to treat ourselves at home, and, trust me, I’ve been looking. So much of the information we’re focused on now is preventing transmission, but there is woefully little on what to do IF and WHEN we get sick.

Being waylaid during the time that so many folks have been still frantically trying to avoid getting sick has offered me a strange bubble of calm and insight. I’m grateful for that because the fear out there is palpable. I would like for this to be an offering to assuage at least some panic. That is my hope anyway.

The CDC and the WHO have labored and lengthy instructions on how to prevent transmission to someone else in the household or orders to quarantine. This creates a new problem for us as caregivers. A potentially critically ill person separated from everyone else drastically reduces a caregiver’s ability to monitor, replenish fluids, and generally take care of the person who is sick. On top of that, these two trusted sources offer only the most basic (honestly, negligible) recommendations for treating symptoms: sleep, keep hydrated, and take Tylenol (or the generic acetaminophen). This kind of bare bones advice is, well, skeletal. We all want to know how best to take care of ourselves and each other so that we can avoid having to go to the hospital. We want to be able to recuperate at home because we want to prevent putting a strain on the system and, face it, the idea of going to the hospital in this scenario is downright daunting. The better we know how to nurse ourselves back to health, the better our odds are healing well in our own beds.

So, I wanted to share what I’ve learned.

Caveat emptors/disclaimers because I’m making this public and shareable: This is based on my own personal, lived experience. I am not a doctor, so this does not replace or supplant solid medical advice from a professional you trust. I have had relatively mild symptoms but still a longish case. I am one of the freakish 5% who has had never-ending nasal congestion that went into my upper respiratory tract, but I somehow avoided the dreaded cough. YMMV (your mileage may vary). I have no underlying health concerns, I’m 52, a non-smoker, and fortunate. I have a comfortable apartment to myself, and I was able to spend $500 to stock up on essentials before the lockdown and before I got sick. (For the love of all that is holy, I swear I did not stockpile anything, especially TP. Stocking up is simply incredibly expensive. I dwindled my account down to almost my last dollar, since I’m adjunct faculty at two local universities and don’t make a whole lot.) Still, that is more than so many of us are able to do, and I am grateful for all that I have. What follows goes a bit beyond common sense, because this virus is unlike anything I’ve experienced before, even though to be clear, this is certainly a far cry from the sickest I’ve ever been. I hope it can be a boon to friends and strangers alike.

Here are the things I did that helped:

WHILE YOU ARE WELL

1) Start taking your temperature in the morning and at night so that you have a baseline.

One of the first signs of the virus can be a low-grade fever, though this virus does present in different ways. Full disclosure: I was one of those people who had to go to 3 different drugstores on Wed Mar 11 looking for a thermometer amid decimated shelves.

2) Before you get sick, change your diet.

Stop eating and drinking things that will make it harder to fight off the virus. Mellow out on the processed foods, dairy, and sugar (alcohol and gluten are in this category too, sorry).

Increase your intake of immune-boosting foods like green vegetables, fish and other omega-threes, garlic, ginger, and citrus. You don’t have to give in to the whole elderberry craze (though it does taste pretty good). Replace coffee with chaga, a fungal immune booster that you can brew into a strong, soothing tea, for a few weeks.

If you think these dietary recommendations are extreme, consider that you are in a temporary but dire situation where everything else around us is collapsing. Change your eating habits this month, even if it’s just a little for a little while.

3) SLEEP at least 8 hours a night. (I know, I wake up at 4am in a blind panic too. But, still, try.)

4) Make a pot of soup NOW while you are healthy or at the first sign of any symptoms.

This is especially important if you are sheltering in place alone. When/if you get sick, trust me, you won’t have energy to cook. You will barely want to eat anything anyway. But you will force yourself to have two bowls of it every day, and it will help. The pot should be big enough so that you can eat from it for a week. Make your favorite broth-based recipe: chicken, vegetable, or bone. Bone is most healing, obviously. Avoid dairy and noodles because these ingredients increase congestion and inflammation. Freeze it if you don’t have any symptoms at this point, so you will be able to thaw it when you start to feel oogy.

WHEN YOU GET SICK

1) At the first sign of fatigue, a tickle in your throat, aches, or a fever, go to bed and stay there. SLEEP. Don’t try to keep working. Your body needs to heal, and it can do that most effectively when you are sleeping.

Early symptoms reportedly vary. Some have aches and fever, scratchy throat, and chest tightness with a dry cough. Headaches, sneezing + nasal congestion, shortness of breath, nausea, and diarrhea have all been reported. I woke up on Mar 14 with a headache, body aches, congestion, and a fever of 101. My fever spiked to 102.5 on Day 2, and I’ve had a fever of 100+ every day since along with body aches, nasal congestion (my nose opened up like an actual running faucet on day 5), chest tightness and upper respiratory congestion, exhaustion, lack of appetite, and some lower GI distress (though not full-on diarrhea, everything just felt labored and different and, sincere apologies for the vivid image I’m about to put in your head, my poop seemed to be covered in a gauzy cloud). The two aberrations from most commonly reported symptoms: I have only had a negligible cough, and I never had a sore throat. My baseline temp leading up to getting sick was 99, but I am usually a straight-up 98.6 kind of person.

I had a dinner party the Monday before I got sick, and a friend who helped me in the kitchen came down with the same thing at the same time. My friend has asthma and has had a much harder time of things. But we are both on the road to recovery, in large part because we have been sharing what we’ve learned, checking in with each other, and doing some intense jobs taking care of ourselves while in isolation. (No one else from the dinner party has gotten sick to date.)

2) DRINK WATER, every 15 minutes when you are awake. Every time you wake up or roll over, drink. It should be room temperature, not cold. Cold liquids exacerbate the illness.

3) Drink WARM liquids like herbal tea and broth. Hot liquids keep everything in your system moving. Make soothing, healing, and warming remedies out of whatever inexpensive supplies you already have available.

4) In the giant void of an antiviral treatment that works on COVID-19, I have turned/returned to plant medicine, and it has helped me a lot.

My cousin, who is taking a Chinese medicine course in Singapore right now, sent me directions on how to make a ginger and licorice root decoction that was used throughout China during the Hubei lockdown. It’s easy to make. You bake the licorice in molasses, and then you boil the licorice root and the ginger for an hour. The ginger licorice decoction has really helped my friend who also got sick at the same time I did.

Making tea from Chaga – an Alaskan mushroom – has been so incredibly helpful. I’ve made a large pot of it every day, reserving the chaga and re-steeping over and over again for the past two weeks. Was it the chaga or the fact that I was drinking a gallon of warm soothing liquid daily, ladling out a mugful every couple of hours, that helped me get better? I’ll go with a little of both.

Other natural antiviral immune boosters that might help include vitamin C, C60, and olive leaf extract, oregano oil, and Manuka honey. Since stores are closed and Amazon has stopped shipping, we have to make do with what we already have. Make a tea with citrus peels and cloves and sliced ginger, if that’s is in your fridge.

5) The word on the street is to manage fever with Tylenol or acetaminophen or paracetamol, which are supposed to be more suited to treating respiratory illness than other alternatives. Frankly, I have been taking acetaminophen as sparingly as possible to avoid putting strain on my other organs. Cool compresses work too.

Some people are saying NOT to take Advil and its generic ibuprofen, as they have anecdotally said to propel otherwise healthy people to hospitals for oxygen. There is a lot of noise and confusion in this debate, and I’m going to sidestep this thorny conversation for our purposes.

6) Zinc lozenges and elderberry syrup help with a scratchy throat and cough. A friend of mine prone to bronchitis recommended Myrtol, a German cough syrup made from natural ingredients, including elderberry. If you have a pharma protocol in place for managing a persistent, chronic cough, you are probably already on it.

7) The fatigue is real. It also becomes really hard to think clearly. That’s why it’s so important to have soup and tea and other supportive supplies ready ahead of time.8) When you think you are getting better the first three or four times, STAY IN BED.

The arc of this virus is really rollercoaster-y: up and down and up and down. After the initial alarm passes, (and it is alarming at first because you don’t know which way it’s going to go and that seizing up can make everything feel worse), I was able to focus on getting better, calmly. I made it through the first scary fever spikes, but right when I thought I was feeling better, I would get knocked down again. There were critical junctures around days 3, 5, and 7 where I was certain I’d turned a corner, and, well, yesterday.

I’d get up and do dishes, take out the trash, take my dog for a walk around the neighborhood (face covered), and try to get some work done (end of quarter grades were due at both my schools and my departments have been preparing like mad to take our classes online in the spring). Then I would feel hot and light-headed again, taking my temp only to see it had sprung back up to 101.5. You will feel better and want to get back up and do things only to get knocked right back down. The moment I ease up on drinking water and tea constantly, I start to feel horrible again.

Remember: YOU ARE ESSENTIALLY PREVENTING YOURSELF FROM DEVELOPING FULL-BLOWN VIRAL PNEUMONIA. I would say the new mantra needs to be SLEEP + DRINK WATER. Start now, to the extent that you can. Please resist the urge to get up and do things. Rest. Do your Zoom meetings from bed with a virtual office background, if you absolutely have to be on a call. But, truly, you shouldn’t because this is the time to sleep sleep sleep and binge watch The Good Place (my choice for existential dystopian laughs/insert whatever makes your socks go up and down). For the past few days, my temp has been normal in the morning only to spring back up to 100+ if I try to do too much (e.g. read: ANYTHING). When I let myself sleep, my temp goes back down.

9) A humidifier has helped. Some recommend running a hot shower and sitting in your own makeshift bathroom sauna. Steam eucalyptus or rosemary, if you have any, and inhale deeply. I just made a homemade vaporub with a base of coconut oil and a few drops each of clove, thyme, rosemary, and peppermint oil. It is wonderful.

10) My breathing never got dangerously shallow. But this virus can potentially fill your upper and lower respiratory tracts with mucous until you feel like you are drowning. A physical therapist wrote with life-saving advice about the importance of Postural Draining, a method of draining mucous from the lungs using gravity and percussion. It involves physically moving your body so that you tilt your lungs and bronchial tubes upside down and then firmly clap the back or chest. This allows the mucous to flow up out of the lungs along with deep, prolonged exhales. Then you can cough it the rest of the way out. You can do postural draining alone or have someone perform it on you. Google postural draining diagrams – there are different for positions for each of the five lobes of your lungs. Do these exercises for 3-5 minutes a day before you get too sick. You can get into position in a chair or laying over a yoga ball, bean bag, or pillows for support.

Failing steps 1-10, if you have difficulty breathing or your temperature spikes beyond what you and your doctor are comfortable with (I’ve heard different numbers), please go to the ER immediately. Some of you will develop dramatic and dangerous symptoms quickly. Please do not wait to seek care if your lungs are struggling beyond what you can manage at home. My advice is geared to keeping as many of us comfortable for as long as it takes to heal, but that obviously is only going to go so far for those who suffer from chronic conditions, are older, or are immunosuppressed. If you have a finger oximeter, and are able to monitor your oxygen levels numerically, then you will know when you have to go to the hospital. But very few of us have those, and they are way sold out.

THE OTHER SIDE

Healing from even a mild case (and mine IS mild) takes about two weeks to a month.

As my dad would day, take it easy. It is unclear how immunity works with COVID-19. Some have said that there was a patient in Japan who tested positive a second time. There is speculation that this, in fact, was a relapse and not re-infection. We need more time to learn about the virus. In the meantime, please give yourselves time to heal.

We don’t know how long immunity lasts, and we don’t know about immunity to slightly different mutated strains even if we have recovered from one of them. I do hope that we get to develop a fair amount of herd immunity in the next year, but, again, there is a lot to learn. We will obviously still need to protect our vulnerable populations, and our society will continue to bend and contort itself around the virus.

But I hope to be in a position to assist when others get sick. I will happily help you to the best of my abilities. Looking to a future I can hardly conceive at the moment, I anticipate learning more about plant medicine. Scientists will develop new antivirals, retrovirals, and vaccines. I look forward to donating plasma as part of a treatment for those who get sick in the future, whenever that near-distant moment may be.

And thank you, friends. I am good. I have everything I need. My inner circle is incredible (I love you, mom!). I have been quarantined since developing symptoms and went out for a half hour only to get tested (thank you, Howard Brown for your invaluable service). No one else I spent time with beforehand has gotten sick (except my one friend whose illness coincided with mine, and they are also struggling a bit today with the ups and downs. Please hold them in your thoughts).

May you and your loved ones stay healthy. Or, more to the point, may we all get well and stay well. Sending love to all corners.– Rachel Herman