#then i nearly lost my shit because it’s been a bad day and i’ve been looking forward to having burgers and corn on the cob

[voulezloux]

v

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie III

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: oops, more slow burn

Warnings: I have a feeling you will all be requesting a much FASTER update. Angst, fluff, shitty ex-boyfriend, the usual. Some violence which could b triggering. Please be kind to your mind.

Summary: Harry hates Kael. To be fair, most everyone hates him.

“Did y’bring your skates?” Harry asked. He was taking shots into the net for about an hour and a half at the time she had arrived. She was just a little over half an hour early to their practice. He paused to skate over to her. She was putting water bottles into place, clipboards, and other things that her uncle needed for a successful practice. Once everything was where it was supposed to be, she took her camera and took a practice shot of the ice behind Harry littered with pucks.

She frowned and looked away at her camera using it to divert his attention ever so slightly. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “They’re in my car...”

Her unease wasn’t lost on Harry. “Do y’want t’go get them and I’ll help y’for a bit before practice?” He asked, leaning on his stick propped against the board.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

He tilted his head at her. “C’mon, Rookie. You’re not going t’learn if y’don’t try.”

She sighed. “It’s not that... it’s just...” she looked up at him. “I’m still pretty embarrassed about it and I don’t want to do it here in front of everyone and everyone try to help...” She explained. “Like Uncle Charlie will give his two cents and honestly, I’ll be overwhelmed and I’m already nervous about it. The whole team watching would be even worse.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of that. But he wished he had because that meant that he could have a private lesson with her. One-on-one time with her was easily his new favorite thing. It happened a little more frequently since the night he followed her home. When he brought the used skates to her, she ordered pizza, and they played several rounds of Cribbage together. On a morning off from practice, he happened to be going by her place (of course going out of his way to be nearby) he did yoga with her before ordering breakfast to be delivered to her. Evenings where she worked at Louis’ he placed himself at his regular table and smiled at her as she came and went from kitchen to fluttering around the room waiting on everyone.

But on game days, whether they were home or away, she stayed her distance. He suspected she knew about his habits and his hookups. Which made him feel bad in a way he hadn’t worried about in ages. Harry was very comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex. He enjoyed making someone else come and yeah, he enjoyed that aspect for himself too.

But since he met the pretty photographer, he didn’t like it as much. Didn’t find it nearly as satisfying. Even though he wanted to.

Harry had a pond out behind his house. A pond that was very frozen in this chilly winter air. She hadn’t been to his place yet. Her pretty being all over his house seemed like a brilliant idea. It made him want her more.

Harry never wanted a girl the way he wanted her. For him it was always a one-night stand at their place, so he had the freedom to leave. They knew what they signed up for. But she invaded every little part of his mind. Thoughts of camera flashes and smiles. His picture on her fridge. The picture she texted him of herself that he saved as her contact photo. Her wearing Niall’s jersey. The cookies she made for her neighbors. Her rundown car. Her piece of shit ex.

“Would y’want t’come t’my place? I’ve got a pond out back.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Harry,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but she made direct eye contact with him. She always did, even if the conversation was difficult.

He frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because... you’re... you.”

“What’s that mean?” His eyebrows pulled forward as he tried to think through her logic before she said it.

“It means...” she looked at the ceiling like the answer would appear there. “I am not going to be seen with you at your place when you’ve never brought a girl home.”

He blinked. “How do y’know that?” She shrugged but busied herself with her camera taking pictures of the bench. She took Harry’s gloves from him and put them in a specific place. He felt utterly annoyed when he realized why she might have known. The frustration came over him before he could stop it. “Did your stupid ex tell you ‘bout m’reputation or something? Is that it? S’why y’don’t let me in fully? Y’think m’a piece of shit too?” He asked quietly. It sounded a little too accusing. He didn’t mean to. But it was unfair. Plus, he thought they were friends. The kind of friends like he was with Niall.

Because honestly, Harry didn’t think he could be good enough for her. Maybe he was projecting what he felt. She deserved a good boyfriend who would be able to devote all his time to her. She didn’t deserve someone that got a crummy five months to be in a relationship who had to worry allthe time about him because he had never had a steady girlfriend before.

She brought the camera from her face down to rest against her stomach on the strap around her neck. Once more, she looked him straight on. It was intoxicating. Brave. Beautiful, of course, always.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Harry Styles,” she said very clearly.

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“Why would I think that? Because you sleep with women who clearly want to sleep with you? You’re entitled to whatever you want with whomever you want as long as they fully consent, Harry. I don’t really give a shit. I just refuse to date a hockey player because an actual piece of shit cheated on me for who knows how long which I did not consent to. It’s obvious you’re charming, talented, intelligent, and very handsome,” she paused briefly, took a deep breath. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Harry Styles. I just won’t be her.”

She brought her camera back to her face. She seemed unaffected by his stunned expression. He swallowed and it felt like a rock was in his throat. “That was an awful lot of compliments, Bunny,” he hummed. She continued taking pictures, but Harry saw the way her cheeks turned another shade of red under his gaze. He leaned closer towards her. “You think m’handsome?” he teased.

“A blind person would know you’re handsome, Harry. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Charming?”

“Are you getting off on this or something? Is your ego not big enough?”

“I just didn’t know you thought that ‘bout me. I thought y’jus’ kinda tolerated me and m’overbearing presence.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

“No reason.”

But he answered too quickly. It was the reason that hung in the air over and over. She turned from her camera and caught his gaze again. “You’re nothing like Kael, Harry. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that you were,” her voice was extremely gentle, like she was speaking to someone with a baby napping in the room. It made him feel all over. Every cell in his body vibrating with emotion.

The breath he released was more relieved than when he found out he was being drafted to the Chargers. Harry wanted her all over his house. Wanted her in his room and not even for sexual reasons. He just wanted to see her there after any game. Wanted her to wear his jersey. Teach her to skate better. Hang any of her photographs in his house like a museum paying tribute to her talent. More than that he wanted pictures of her in his house—so many pictures of her.

*

On nights when the team had curfew because of early morning practice or a game the next day, she did not of course. Harry broke curfew almost every single day after learning where she lived. He asked her to move in almost every time he followed her home ensuring she got home safely in her crappy car.

You shouldn’t break curfew. You’ll get a big fine. Marc and Michael keep an eye on my arrival.

It’s fine. I have the money.

Harry was territorial about her and especially her safety.

Look, I don’t want to be weird, but we’re friends... Evander said you... had plans tonight with someone...

Harry wanted to kill his teammate. Who? He tried for the funny remark so he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind at the thought of her thinking about his late night hook up.

You’re ridiculous.

Making sure you get home safe is more important than having an orgasm.

...

Sorry, FRIEND. Thought we could talk about orgasms.

R I D I C U L O U S

😇

Go puck yourself Harry.

God, you’re hilarious Rookie.

Good night, Harry. Thanks for worrying about me. It’s... actually kind of nice.

Yeah, of course. Good night, Rookie.

Harry didn’t have plans that night. Not unless pining over his coach’s niece in the privacy of his own bed was a plan.

*

Charlie was currently taking his anger out on the guys, which was extremely unfair because they had no idea it was because of her. She wished she could have been surprised. Instead, she quietly took pictures, feeling bad for their poor lungs. They were breathing hard and heavy as they struggled with the conditioning drill.

“Five minutes!” Charlie snarled.

They all collapsed on the ice in their spots. Players on the bench were slumped and moaning in pain and they were already on a rest. She glared at her uncle holding two six-pack water bottle carriers as she stepped onto the ice. She nearly slipped twice. Harry didn’t even move to help her, which meant they were in really tough shape.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Asher heaved.

“Coach, is something wrong?” Niall asked, chugging his water. Off to the side of the rink Callie was throwing up into a trash can. A quiet ‘pussy’ came from an equally green-looking Lang. Only Niall could get away with asking because he was the nice one of the group. But even still, Uncle Charlie silenced him with a glare.

“He’s mad at me and taking it out on you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry guys. Uncle Charlie, can you stop punishing all hockey players on my behalf?”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he shook his head once paying no mind to the team that was half dead on the ice before him.

She sighed heavily. “You’re being mean, Uncle Charlie. It’s not their fault!”

“It’s the reputation they’ve given the game,” Coach Wheeler agreed.

“What reputation?”

“Uncle Charlie is mad he picked me up from my apartment. He’s not keen on where I live.”

“It looks like a meth lab.”

“My apartment is not a meth lab.”

“You have a drug dealer living on the first floor.”

“Michael is super nice! He watches my car and—”

“Jesus,” Niall murmured. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t even bother, Horan. I tried everything. She is insistent, she doesn’t want a single hand out from anybody. Which is why you’re all paying the price. What kind of asshole makes someone as sweet as her—”

“Uncle Charlie, can we not air my relationship out in front of the whole team?”

“If we’re doing suicide sprints because of fucking Kael Crowe I want to be moved to the Lightning,” Callie groaned referring to the minor team affiliated with the Chargers. “What the hell, Coach!? Take it up with Crowe!”

Exhausted agreements resounded from the ground. “You all better treat women with respect. There is zero tolerance for it,” Coach Wheeler grumbled.

“Sweetheart, do something please,” Lang begged standing to where Callie was previously, vomiting promptly into the trash.

“Uncle Charlie, can you cut them a break? They didn’t cheat on me.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Asher moaned. “Permission to cross-check when we play him?”

“Permission granted,” Uncle Charlie shrugged.

“Jesus,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Harry was still breathing hard, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. She was certain he would have something to say about Kael or her stupid choice. Everyone seemed to.

“First one’ll be for you, Sweetheart. Second one’s for me,” Asher winked.

“Why’d he pick y’up?” Harry asked quietly. It was interesting, it was the first thing he said after all the time spent trying to remember how to breathe. It was like he already knew the answer. He also didn’t rat her out for knowing beforehand about where she lived. Although she suspected he knew the punishment would be far worse if Charlie found out that Harry knew where she lived and said nothing.

“Car wouldn’t start,” she shrugged handing him a bottle of water. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s all I can afford,” she admitted quietly. The conversation was just for the two of them. “I’m on a budget,” she reminded him.

Harry liked how open she was with him. When she told him and Niall that she couldn’t skate and that she got nervous about it, it was vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. He liked how she said she wouldn’t date him (even though it broke a piece of him) and still managed to compliment him. Each time she mentioned she wasn’t swimming in cash made him feel like she trusted him. He thought of her cold apartment, her used skates, and her broken down car.

It was a shame she wasn’t going to like him as much after her next comment.

“Coach, if I let her borrow one of my cars while hers is in the shop, can we call practice early? I’ll drive her to and from games. Won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely in the building.”

“I’m not convinced it’s a safe building.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweetheart, where are you living?” Niall sighed.

When Coach said the name of the building and the street just into the bad side of town, everyone moaned again. She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s the right price and no one bothers me. I use you all as a threat.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Callie groaned. “Coach, we’ll take shifts, anything. Make it stop,” he begged. Lang returned from throwing up in the trash can and took water from her.

“I don’t need shifts of you guys watching me,” she rolled her eyes. “No one bugs me, they know I work for the team and that I could have twenty scary hockey players there in a matter of minutes.”

Harry smirked. It was obvious he liked the sound of that. “Coach?” Harry prompted.

“Harry, I’m not taking your car, for God’s sake!”

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Sweetheart,” he snorted.

“Uncle Charlie! You’re not getting one of your players to babysit me!”

“Then you’re responsible for their lungs bursting.”

She pouted, glared at her uncle, and marched off the ice. Snagging her camera from the bench as she did. It was childish, petty, and made her look like an idiot, but she was too mad to care. Harry sighed. “Coach, she’s a grown woman... y’could have at least asked her if she was okay with that...” Harry reminded him. Charlie leveled Harry with a stare.

“She’s the best person I know,” Charlie explained. “That piece of shit Crowe never deserved her. It kills the whole family that she doesn’t see her own worth. We watched her take care of him and put her life on hold for him. She doesn’t let people take care of her. Maybe because she doesn’t know how,” he shrugged. “So if she needs tough love to do that, then so be it.”

Harry followed her off the ice. He walked slightly awkwardly on his skates but found her outside one of the offices sitting on a bench, putting her items away in her bag. “You’re not giving me your car,” she grumbled.

“Rookie,” he sighed.

“I don’t need you saving me! This is just like when you yelled at Kael.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “We’re friends, right?”

She glanced at him. “...yes,” she said tentatively.

“Y’know how y’always worry ‘bout me drinking water? Making sure I eat dinner? Texting me t’make sure I get home after following y’home?” She didn’t look at him and fiddled with the laces of her boots. “Y’can ignore me all you want, but s’what friends do. We care ‘bout you and want t’do all the nice things y’do for us.”

It looked like she was piecing together what he was saying. But not fully wanting to accept it. “You’re really going to let me borrow your car?”

He smiled.

“I guess I could... have a skating lesson... assuming your car is at your house?”

Somehow, he managed to smile wider. “Yeah, Rookie? Great... I’ll go change and tell Coach. Be out in a minute.”

“Don’t be weird about it, Harry. I don’t want anyone to think you’re my favorite. Because you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Sure thing, Rookie.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and opened the door when they arrived at his house. She grabbed her stuff from the back—it was everything she had to pull out of her car and toss into her uncle’s when he picked her up. Harry grabbed his duffle bag, as well as a small bag of groceries of items she needed to make the hot chocolate she promised after the skating lesson. “M’gonna put this stuff away and sharpen your skates,” he said holding the pair by the laces tied together as he opened the door. “Here’s the key if y’want t’throw your stuff in the car,” he grabbed it off the hook near the doorway and then headed further into the house. With the key in hand, she headed back outside and unlocked an extravagant car she would never be able to afford. Sighing, she put her stuff in the trunk, locked it, and headed back toward the equally luxurious house.

To be fair, it wasn’t a mansion. It was a nice home. It was clear Harry took great care of it—or paid people to take great care of it. Following the sound of something scraping against the blade, she found Harry in his kitchen, sitting on a breakfast bar stool at the island. The kitchen was stunning. Marble countertops, white backsplash, black hanging light fixtures, white cabinets with black hardware. There were green curtains in the window. The appliances were all black. It belonged in a magazine. It was practically pristine.

The only thing she found interesting was Harry’s sink was filled with dishes. The dishwasher looked clean, it was open and completely full as well. How many dishes did a person living by themself have? She spun the key on her finger as she approached him, setting it on the counter. “When’s your birthday?” He asked randomly.

“February eleventh,” she blinked.

Harry smiled that really beautiful way of his. The one that made the dips in his cheeks deepen. His eyes seemed brighter. “S’near mine.”

“I know.”

“You keeping track of me Rookie?” He was full-on beaming.

“No, but I added everyone’s birthday to my calendar after Ray’s. Figured I would make treats if I had the time,” she explained. “I remembered yours because it’s in February like mine.”

“Can’t y’jus’ let me believe y’like me?”

She ignored him. “How do you do it?” She asked pointing to the skate.

He held the little tool out to her—a little rectangle with a space for the blade to slide between. “They don’t sell skates unsharpened, even used ones. So they’re already pretty good, but I feel better doing it myself. I wouldn’t want t’put y’on skates I haven’t ensured were good to go,” he explained and waited until she lined up the blade with the tool. “Jus’ stroke the blade in the same direction a few times. You’ll feel a little resistance. S’how y’know it’s working. The duller the blade the more resistance you’ll feel.”

“Like this?” She asked making sure she didn’t mess up her new skates.

“Yup, that’s good,” he monitored the motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Course, Rookie. S’what friends are for,” he shrugged simply.

But it wasn’t that simple. Kael would never sharpen her skates for her. Wouldn’t even offer. It’s why she basically stopped skating—didn’t bother to continue because he didn’t care. He never asked if he could help teach her. There was no way he would willingly give his car to her either or offer to follow her home from a game. Most of the time they were at the same arena he didn’t go home with her. In case he wanted to go out with friends.

She felt the emotion building in her throat because she knew Harry had plenty of options. But she didn’t want to be an option. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t... the right time. She was too broken and fucked from her ex. Harry was too talented and charming to deal with a steady girlfriend and he shouldn’t have to. He was young, handsome, and had ample time in his career and life to have fun before he settled down.

“Ready?” He asked interrupting her sad thoughts. Harry was sweet—really sweet. The kind of sweet she always wanted Kael to be. She shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of how nice it would be to be Harry Styles’ girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. He replaced the guards on her blades. “Pond’s out back,” he told her gesturing to the back slider that led to a porch.

“Your house is beautiful,” she told him.

“Thanks, Rookie, love,” he smiled. “Mum was insistent it be my first investment,” he explained.

“Smart lady.”

“The very best,” he affirmed.

Nope, she wasn’t going to fall for a man who was kind and adored his mother. Not one bit.

The back deck overlooked a decent sized yard, but it was the pond that was by far the feature of it. She could picture beautiful sunsets, and she wished she brought her camera with her. There was a layer of light snow on the ground, the bare branches. It was like a Christmas movie scene. It left her a little breathless and Harry paid no attention to it. Totally used to the beauty of his own yard.

“Y’okay?” He asked over his shoulder. He noticed her pause as he continued walking toward the little pond. Harry kicked his boots off and put on his skates while sitting on a little wooden bench. They weren’t the pair he wore at the rink. These looked a little more worn in and scuffed. Well-loved, was the best description. He laced them quickly and expertly. It must have been second nature to him. With the guards still on his blades, he stood in front of her. “Put these on,” he handed her a pair of socks from his sweatshirt pocket. They weren’t the ones he bought her, which meant they were either his or another set he had bought her just for the occasion.

Nope. Not falling in love with him. Not at all.

“Your backyard is beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.” She untied her boots and stuck her feet in the skates. Almost immediately, Harry carefully hoisted her left skate between his thighs. He held her foot in her new-used skate (with the guard still in place) and tied the laces tightly.

“I can grab it after the lesson,” he offered and worked on the laces. “S’that feel good?” He asked. “Or is it too tight?”

“No, I don’t like my ankle to move.”

He chuckled. “Y’want it t’move a little, Rookie.”

She shrugged while he tied the other skate. Once done, he pulled the guards off and held his hands out for her to take. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how large Harry’s hands were and wrapped around hers so easily. They were warm and comforting. He bent and took his own skate guards off. “I know y’can skate a little, so I don’t want t’push you,” he headed for the ice. “Jus’ do what feels comfortable.”

She barely skated at the rink. Skating on a pond seemed like a bad idea. Sitting on that little bench watching Harry? Maybe taking pictures of him as she did? That seemed like a good idea. Comfortable, to his point. “Is the pond deep?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned and waited at the very edge as she stood just off the ice. “Bunny,” he hummed gently. “I would never let y’get hurt, so no,” he promised. “S’not deep. S’very safe,” he assured her. “C’mon,” he held his hand out. Tentatively, she took it. Fortunately, she was used to him holding her elbow while she walked or skated around.

“Harry, I really don’t want to embarrass myself,” she warned.

“M’not going t’make fun of you, Bunny,” his voice didn’t have any teasing in it. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray sweatshirt. He looked cozy and pretty as always. His voice was too soft and made her feel safe. Which wasn’t a bad thing except for her heart. “Jus’... take little steps. M’not going t’let you fall.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was too late for that.

She listened, taking small steps. Harry skated backwards while facing her, holding his hands out for comfort but not holding onto her. “You’re leaning too far forward, Rookie. Y’want t’keep your weight over your skates while y’step. S’going t’change a bit when y'take your steps but s’what you’re trying to maintain,” he explained. He watched her feet as she adjusted to what he said. “Don’t stare at your feet,” he offered kindly. “I know s’hard, but it’s tough on the balance,” they glided silently for a few minutes. “Y’okay,?” he asked glancing at her face. She nodded. He smiled gently. “Okay,” he took hold of her hands again and tugged her gently. “When y’stop, just tilt your foot inward just a little,” he used his own feet to demonstrate. “You’re doing great, Rookie,” he promised. “Feel easier on the figure skates?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely easier to balance.”

He grinned, excitement covering his features and all she had done was take fifteen little steps or so. “Okay let’s keep going. We’re jus’ going t’focus on keeping y’comfortable today. Getting used to the balance and stopping,” he continued facing her and skating backwards as he pulled her.

“How do you skate backwards?” She asked.

“You gotta walk before y’can run, Rookie,” he chuckled knowingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I meant you, Harry.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been skating m’whole life.”

“Since you were three and before you could walk?” Most every hockey player she knew had the same story. Skating was more important than walking. It was romantic in a way. A first love of sorts. Harry seemed no different in that respect.

He nodded with a shy grin. “Something like that.”

“You’re very graceful.”

“You’re so forthcoming with the compliments today, Bunny. S’nice,” he pulled her toward him. She wasn’t really skating since Harry was just guiding her, but it felt nice to be on the ice without fear of making a fool of herself. “Try stopping.”

“I’m supposed to be skating not stopping Harry.” He smirked and looked at her pointedly. So she executed her little stop and Harry’s smile brightened.

“Lovely, Rookie. Do you want t’try on your own?”

“Sure,” she sighed feeling defeated before starting but it was the only way she’d get better. Harry let go of her hands but stayed the same distance from her (which was no more than five inches away). She took little steps moving at a glacial pace. She really wondered how she could have been using the wrong skates for so long. It felt so much safer and easier to be on the figure skates than it ever had been on hockey skates.

“You’re doing great, Rookie,” he assured her. She felt embarrassed because she was in her late twenties and Harry was treating her like a child. Not his doing, though. It was in her head it felt that way.

But they skated for a while quietly, just listening to the gentle cutting of the blades on the ice. Harry put his hands out just in front of him as a gentle reminder he was there, letting her have the comfort of grabbing him if she needed.

Naturally, her toe hit a divot in the ice at that moment which made her lose her footing. Harry snagged around her waist quickly to keep her upright. “Whoops,” the entire front of his body was pressed to hers. “Y’okay?” She nodded, not wanting to think about how nice Harry was and how warm his body felt. She pulled away as quickly as she could once she regained her footing. “The ice doesn’t get resurfaced like the rink,” he admitted shyly. Like it was his fault.

“You don’t own a Zamboni?” She gaped. “I can’t believe it!”

He chuckled, moving away from her slightly. She couldn’t believe how much colder it felt even though he only held her for no more than forty seconds. “Do y’want t’keep skating?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Because honestly? She didn’t want to leave just yet.

*

Eventually, they got off his little ice rink. She didn’t fall thanks to Harry catching her two more times around the waist. Each time she sent an electric current right through her heart. He was gentle, kind, and encouraging. Imagining him doing the same thing with his baby niece made her ovaries ache so much she had to think about anything else.

“Did you have a dinner party?” she asked pointing to his sink.

“No,” he sighed. “I jus’ hate dishes,” he shook his head.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at her and headed down the hall toward another room. She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make hot chocolate with a mess in the sink,” she called.

“Don’t make it then!” He sounded far away. She couldn’t believe he stayed at her tiny little apartment when she could hardly hear him from a few rooms away. “We can go out t’get some or we y’can jus’ stuff from the dishwasher, Rookie. But don’t touch the sink!”

She rolled her eyes and shifted, through the clean dishes, pulling a sauce pan from it. Harry returned with a bag. “Can you get me chocolate chips, sugar, and cocoa powder? I don’t want to dig through your cabinets—what’s that?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Y’can go through the cabinets,” he shrugged. But it was starting to feel a little too domestic. Now they were at Harry’s house which meant she was done for. At least when they were at her place, she wasn’t subject to the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Harry. He found the ingredients and placed them on the counter. “Open it,” he shrugged.

It was a large bag from the pro shop at the arena. She peered in and then looked up at him. “Harry.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie. Don’t make it a big deal,” he suggested. “What do y’need for whipped cream?”

Inside the bag were jerseys. Langford, Calloway, Asher, and Styles. Her heart felt too warm. Her eyes stung a bit over the thoughtfulness yet again. Skates, jerseys, socks. Harry was too sweet. He wasn’t fighting fair. “Sugar, vanilla, and heavy whipping cream...” she mumbled. Swallowing the emotion she felt, she opted for a joke. “No Horan?”

“He already got his turn,” he grumbled slightly bitter.

She looked at the jersey brushing her fingers over his last name. “It’s too much, Harry.”

“I get a discount,” he shrugged. “On behalf of the team, throw out all your Glacier Wolves stuff,” he grabbed the next set of ingredients and eyed her from across the kitchen island. “What?”

“Even the sweatshirt I’ve worn so much I’ve got it to maximum comfort?” He pressed his mouth into a line and stared at her pointedly. “Alright I’ll throw it out, you’re so bossy.”

He smirked and turned to the stove, turning the dial to light the burner. “Okay Rookie, time for my lesson. Show me how t’make hot chocolate.”

*

It felt like Harry was becoming her very best friend, which scared her. Kael took up so much of her life it left her very little room for friends. The friends she did have... ended up not liking her and talking behind her back. “Hey Rookie,” Harry smiled entering the locker room to drop his stuff for game day photos. “Ugh,” he sighed looking at her jersey and the smile melted.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved with an impish grin.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Asher greeted. “You look beautiful today,” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Asher!” Harry yelled from the other side of the door. Asher winked at her and headed inside the locker room.

“He’s so jealous,” Callie shook his head. She smiled, shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks heating up with color. “Nice jersey, Sweetheart!” He shouted, no doubt enjoying his number on her this time. Only she knew that Callie would be more extra about it than Niall ever could be.

“You can shut the fuck up too,” Harry growled from near the door.

“He must not think I look beautiful,” she laughed quietly.

“Oh Jesus,” Lang snorted filing inside.

“What did she say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Lang chuckled.

“Those are fighting words, Sweetheart,” Niall chuckled heading in after his team.

After the game day pictures were posted to the appropriate social media outlets, she headed inside the arena. She filed down to her spot near the other media. She smiled and waved to people she had been chatting with regularly. They all greeted her as if she was a real media presence and not just the coach’s niece with a camera.

She took a few pictures of the empty ice adding it to her mental portfolio of this sports series she was looking to do. It was peaceful for a moment, the images forming in sequence, her ideal lighting. The way everything would come together to tell a story. It was something she was really excited about—

“Hey, baby.”

She didn’t turn immediately. Surely, she misheard. Her body felt a wave of anxiety run over it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. For several seconds, she focused on her breathing and nothing else. A minute. She just needed a minute to collect herself. Turning slowly, she smiled politely.

“Kael.” His feet were on top of the seat in front of him. Some of his teammates were milling behind, a few rows back of him. He looked relaxed and uncaring of how fucked up it was that he was there. Coming up to her while she was alone. “You guys are in town early,” she stated.

He nodded, standing up and heading to her. She busied herself by inspecting her pictures making sure they looked okay on the screen. Her hands were shaking. Not because she was worried about what Kael might do but because she was angry. Kael was her least favorite person and he made her uneasy because of all the fucked-up things she let him do to her. “Nice jersey. Sleeping with Calloway?” He asked, sweeping his hand across the top of her back. It made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“No,” she clenched her jaw. She wanted to leave as little to the conversation as possible. But she couldn’t. Because Kael didn’t own any part of her privacy anymore. Part of her wished she was sleeping with Callie if only to rub it in his face. But she couldn’t pretend that any more than she could say she didn’t have a crush on Harry. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right, sure...” he smiled slowly. “You look beautiful, baby. Even in an ugly jersey.”

She loved this jersey so much. The only jersey she would love to wear more than Callie’s, was Harry’s. Not that she would ever say that. “What can I say, orange and blue just wasn’t my color,” she shrugged. “And Kael? Stop calling me baby.”

He put his hands up. “Just wanted to say hi... I’m in the area today... tomorrow and the following day, too... thought you might want to catch up.”

“Sweetheart!” Uncle Charlie called.

She turned looking at her uncle, Ray, Callie, Niall, and a couple of the younger players staring at her from across the ice. “That’s my cue,” she said making her way back the way she came.

“You work for the team?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yup.”

“Good old Uncle Charlie helped you out?” He wondered.

“Uh-huh.”

She walked around the edge of the ice noting every pair of eyes of The Chargers following her.

Kael followed her as well. “Do you want to get dinner, love?” He asked.

“I have to work tonight; thanks though,” she said over her shoulder wishing she could have cut across the ice. It would have been nice if she could have shown him that she could skate a bit now.

No thanks to him.

“What about tomorrow after the game?”

“Working again,” she shrugged.

“Lunch?”

“Busy.”

She was much closer now to her uncle and the guys. Their gazes felt warm on her, so she looked at her camera as she walked.

“C’mon, baby. You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“To get my stuff back, Kael,” she sighed without looking at him. God she wanted to be done with the conversation. Why couldn’t he take a hint?

“Technically it’s my stuff.”

Ugh. That would do it. She spun on her heel. He was right behind her so now they stood only inches apart. This was the guy she seriously saw herself marrying because they had been together for so long. She was going to have children with him. So many days and nights spent at his arena wearing ugly orange and blue. Taking care of his every need and not asking for anything in return. All the other things that she didn’t even want to think about let alone speak into existence. Putting her life on hold for him because he deemed himself more important than her hobby. Now, he was going to continue holding her stuff hostage? Just for some weird power trip?

No. Not anymore.

“I don’t want anything you bought me, Kael,” her tone was biting. Teeth clenched. “I want my stuff back.”

He snorted. “Then go to lunch with me, baby,” he grinned sweetly.

“Hey Kael, we need her for pre-game pictures,” Charlie came up behind her putting a hand on her shoulder gently. She shrugged it off, she was independent, goddammit. She didn’t need her uncle or a hockey team to defend her in front of Kael. He already thought she was weak. She didn’t need to prove him right.

“I am not negotiating for my stuff,” she told him, her tone still angry.

“Sweetheart,” Charlie grabbed her shoulder a little more securely.

“Hey Charlie, sorry. Just trying to catch up with our girl here,” he smiled charmingly at her uncle. She rolled her eyes and marched around Charlie, toward the tunnel back to the locker room. “Tell Callie he’s a lucky man, baby,” he shouted.

“Fuck you Crowe!” Callie was immediately moving toward him as she pushed past. “You’re a piece of trash!”

“Hey!” Ray yelled. The other players yanked him back and away from one person who could fuck up the simplest of things with just a couple words. Kael smiled walking back the way he came. Like he didn’t cause a scene or anything.

*

Callie got three penalties in the first period. Lang had to talk him down because he wanted four. But that would have been bad for the team, and they weren’t even playing Kael.

Harry was fuming, bouncing his knee as he sat seated in front of his locker. “I hate that stupid prick,” Callie growled. She was seated on a chair outside the locker room looking at her camera. It didn’t seem to bother her much that Kael was around. Or maybe she was just continuing to be brave. It was kind of hot the way she stood up to him outside the ice rink. He wished he had known. He would have loved to have punched Kael. He was lucky Harry didn’t hear until he heard Callie yelling.

They lost the game one to nothing. No one blamed Callie because the goal wasn’t even during his penalties nor when he was on the ice. “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow,” Asher sighed. “Still allowed to cross-check?” He asked looking at Charlie and Ray.

Ray shrugged. “If you must.”

Harry wanted to strangle him. The moment he heard one of the younger players say Crowe’s name, he wanted to run to her, shove her behind him, and punch his stupid fucking face. “Harry?” Niall asked quietly from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“You good?” He asked.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Look, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her,” he explained. “Maybe you.”

“He doesn’t know I like her,” he mumbled.

“You do like her?” Niall chuckled. “I knew it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Everyone decent?” Her voice called.

Harry perked up hearing the voice of the sweet girl he was falling for rapidly by the second. She entered holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re good, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her.

“Bummer,” she muttered dropping her hand. Harry smirked despite how mad he was as a quiet chuckle sounded throughout the room.

“Gross, Sweetheart. They’re my players,” Charlie shook his head.

“Well, you and I have the same taste in men then, Uncle Charlie.”

Another round of laughter. “You okay?” Charlie asked leaning against his office door.

Harry was staring, Niall beside him staring as well. The whole team was watching to be fair. “Yeah... he was just... hovering, signing autographs and stuff...”

“Fuck him,” Callie growled. She glanced at him briefly. Harry wanted to kill him for getting her attention today in the form of his jersey on her. It shouldn’t have been such a concern for Harry, but it was. He liked her so much and it was so unfair he wasn’t good enough for her. At least he was the one that bought the jersey for her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged looking anywhere but someone else’s eyes.

But it was a big deal, Harry was fuming in his seat. His leg still bouncing.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, if—”

“Can someone walk me to my car?” She asked.

“I can!” Callie chirped.

She frowned. “Callie, really, any other day. But... with the jersey—”

He frowned. “I hate Crowe.”

“Join the club,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I’ll walk you out,” Harry quickly tossed a sweatshirt over his practice shirt and a pair of sweats on over his compression shorts.

They didn’t speak as they walked to her car. Harry’s car. She put her belongings in the back seat. “I took the night off. I’m pretty exhausted,” she told Harry leaning against the driver door. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

But he did. Because it seemed to be the only thing he did. “Oh. S’nice,” he murmured. “Are you… do y’want company or are y’jus’ going t’bed?”

“Probably just bed,” her voice was tired. “Maybe Marc and I will watch a game so he can study.”

At least there was one man in her life he didn’t have to be jealous of. “Well, we have an early curfew anyway,” he mumbled. “Do y’want me t’follow y’home?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Rookie,” he gave her arm a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re home,” Harry ushered her into the car and let her go on her way. He headed back for the arena feeling fairly defeated. But at least she was safe.

*

Eliana lived close by and expected very little of Harry. She was a nice person. She was a nurse at a local hospital and had hours that lined up with Harry’s every so often.

Harry was a fucking mess.

“Are you okay?” She asked

No. He wasn’t. He wanted the pretty photographer. Wanted to know she was home safe. Wanted to go to her apartment and wake Michael and Marc up and murder them for not protecting her when they said they would. Even though she was in all reality probably fine.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s not you.”

She smirked. “I didn’t think so, Harry. I hope you’re alright.”

 “Jury’s out.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled the covers up to her neck. “Just lock behind you please.”

Harry tried calling her. Not even caring how ridiculous he was. He was past the point of caring. He couldn’t even sleep with someone else, and he’d done nothing more than hold her hands or her elbow. He refrained from cuddling her at their sleepover beyond feeling the heat of her body while she slept.

Harry had called her every hour since he walked her to her car. Hopefully she was just asleep. She did say she was exhausted. Maybe if he drove by and saw her car, he would feel better?

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He couldn’t follow her like that. It was different that first time. He never intended to follow her into her apartment building. His rationality left him because he was so worried about her. Now that he was okay with her living arrangement, he didn’t want to look insane.

A drink. One drink and he would be home by curfew. Something to take the edge off. Make him forget about his worry.

Harry parked in the first available spot at The Locker Room. He waved to the regulars, said hello to some fans, and headed to his usual table. Force of habit. “Hey Harry,” Louis smiled bringing Harry a drink. “Didn’t know you were coming in; she figured you had curfew.”

He tilted his head at Louis, his thumb pausing on her name in his message threads once more. “Hmm?” He hummed. “She’s... here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Louis pouted slightly. “She’s been here since five,” he hummed like it was obvious.

“Hey, Louis!” She called from the other room. Her voice hitching slightly in alarm.

Why would she lie? Louis raced to the other room. Harry followed quickly because the apprehension in her voice was enough to bring all his worry immediately back to the forefront of his mind and he expected the worst truly. Because she didn’t seem to be very scared of anything. She lived in a seedy part of town and worked with violent hockey players.

So what could be in the main room that would make her sound so worried? A drunk guy who was getting into it with another person? A handsy guy who thought she was pretty? A girl who didn’t like her decision to cut her off?

None of his thoughts had considered it might be Kael. Who had her wrist pinned to the top of a table, his hand wrapped tightly around it keeping her in place.

Harry’s vision turned red.

She gaped meeting Harry’s gaze. “Oh fuck,” she whispered.

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[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s having a strange day.

For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.

In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.

And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.

Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

And hey. What the hell was that?

Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.

But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.

But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.

Doubtful.

Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.

“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.

Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.

“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”

Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”

Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.

Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”

“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”

Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.

“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”

“He did what?”

“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”

Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”

Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.

They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”

Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.

As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.

Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”

Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”

“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.

He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”

But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”

It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”

There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.

Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”

It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.

Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.

“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.

As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.

The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.

[thegreatmousebafoon]

( y’all this is a long one- but trust me it’s worth it lol )

5 y/o Rosie ( in a strangers car ): You said my dads where at the hospital?

Kidnapper: Oh, yeah-… he was in a car accident. They just wanted me to take you home.

Rosie: right… and um, which one is it?

Kidnapper: um… the.. tall one. Your other dad is staying with him.

Rosie: hm, ok!… so, you drive a mini-van.

Kidnapper: uh.. yes? So?

Rosie: but you have no kids?

Kidnapper: …. No, I don’t- how did you-

Rosie: hm and no ring… can’t find a husband?

Kidnapper: Hey listen here you little-

Rosie: It’s probably because your well past your prime. I suggest some surgery. Not even working out or a touch if make up will help you-

Kidnapper: HEY- you- this is not worth it- I’m stopping the car- GET OUT!

Rosie: … I know what you’re trying to do.

Kidnapper: … what?

Rosie: We don’t have a car to get into an accident with and my dad, the taller one, thinks hospitals are a waste of time. My OTHER dad is a doctor, so if he was hurt he would probably take care of it.

Kidnapper: ok well… what are you gonna do about it? I’ve still got you.

Rosie: ( slowly hold up something in her hand )

Kidnapper: … you have a phone?

Rosie: No im too young for a phone, this is a pager.

Kidnapper: oh yeah? And who are you gonna page?

Rosie: my dads. About 45 seconds ago.

Kidnapper: …

Rosie: judging by your complete lack of skills, you where not hired by any of my parents various enemies, therefore you do not know who they are. I’ve been sending them Street names so they know where we are. I say you have about ( checks her hello kitty watch ) 15 seconds until they get here.

Kidnapper: …

Rosie: since we have some time, here are some critiques of your technique. First of all, actually do some research before you go into-

Kidnapper: you’re giving me advice? Shouldn’t you want to prevent me from doing this again-

Rosie: oh well, one of my dads, Sherlock Holmes by the way, in case you’ve heard of him, hasn’t had a case in a week and he’s just about lost his mind. If you where to manage getting out of this alive, I was hoping I’d have a case to give him, and I wanted you to make it interesting for him.

Kidnapper: … that’s… morbidly sweet.. I think?

Rosie: yeah, well, it’s kind of pointless now judging by the red dot on your head.

Kidnapper: Wha- ( turns around to see a laser pointed at their forehead ) … Oh shit-

Rosie: ( checks her watch again ) 20 seconds, they’re getting slow. By the way, my other dad, the shorter one, and the one that I’d guess is pointing the snipper at you right now, is a retired military veteran from Afghanistan, with nearly perfect aim. He has killed about-

Kidnapper: I THOUGHT YOU SAID HE WAS A DOCTOR-

Rosie: He had bad days. Ok! Byeee-

Kidnapper: Wait- if you knew what I was doing, why did you stay in the car?!

Rosie: I was really hoping you’d be able to get my dads out of the house. They’ve been driving me crazy. Sorry you where such a disappointment. Have fun in jail!

[ditzyredrobin]

Tim Drake (The Spleen-Less Wonder)

My second Bad Things Happen square in as many days because I can’t control myself. 😅

Prompt: Bundled Up in Blankets

-

“Jason, put me down, now!” Tim snaps, trying to wrestle his way out of the blanket burrito he is currently rolled into. He’s currently slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and pissed.

Well, beyond pissed.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the raging fury he’s currently feeling, being carried around like an oversized toddler. He kicks hard at Jason’s chest with his slippered feet, trying to gain some leverage to escape.

Jason isn’t even phased at his wriggling and kicking, he just keeps walking up the driveway. “What did I tell you, kid? Fuck around and find out.”

“It’s not that big a deal, seriously. It’s just a cold.”

It was. He hadn’t even broken 101 degrees yet which was barely even a fever and a total win in his book. If he was careful and took his antibiotics (which he had been, there was a timer set in his phone and everything) it would go away in no time.

“Like I said, you fucked around and now you’re going to find out. You could have stayed home but nooo. Tim Drake, the spleen-less fucking wonder, decided tonight was as good a night as any to hit the streets, never mind the sleet and windchill.” Jason mocks deadpan, renewing his grip. “Suck it up, buttercup. You did this to yourself. Deal with it.”

Tim rolls his eyes, “It’s Wayne.”

Jason pushes right through the front door to the manor without knocking. “What is?”

“My name. It’s not Drake, it’s Wayne.”

When he had been adopted, he’d officially become a Wayne. When he had taken over as CEO of Wayne enterprises after Batman had been lost in time, it only renewed that belief. He was a Wayne through and through and if the tabloids caught wind of his being carted around by strange men, he was going to have to send his publicist an apology bouquet again. And maybe a bottle of wine.

As much as Damian may have been opposed to it, he was a Wayne.

“Always a dramatic little shit,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Drake or a Wayne or something else entirely. What I do give a fuck about is someone ruining the lead I’ve been working for over a month because he decided not to stay in bed like he was supposed to.”

“And I’m the one being dramatic?”

“Yeah, you are. You know, I’m really glad you’re finally taking the time to self reflect. You should try journaling or some shit when you’re feeling big feelings instead of passing out and nearly braining yourself.”

Really, it hadn’t been that bad. He just needed a minute to sit and then he would have been fine. If Jason hadn’t overreacted, he would not have almost lost his lead.

“I did not. I’m fine. Now can you put me down?”

“You passed right the fuck out, Replacement. That sounds pretty bad to me.” Jason says but doesn’t budge.

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

Tim groans, giving one last weak kick. This was getting him nowhere fast other than wanting his bed. The DayQuil and Red Bull were starting to wear off and the drowsiness was setting in again to bone deep exhaustion. The kind that makes him want to curl up for the next 24 hours and just sleep.

Not an option, unfortunately. He had a board meeting in just over six hours. If he manages to go to bed right now, he should still have time to get in a couple of hours of sleep before he needs to get ready.

“Bruce! Get out here and take care of your belongings.” Jason calls into the otherwise silent manor. It was just after six am meaning Bruce wouldn’t have been in bed for very long.

Tim grimaced at the way Jason’s voice echoed through the halls. If Jason’s complete disregard for the alarm didn’t wake him up, his shouting definitely did. “You really don’t have to do this.” He beds quietly, like that would help matters at all.

One could hope.

“Like hell I don’t.” Jason’s snaps back and opens his mouth like he’s going to yell again when Bruce comes running around the corner.

His eyes are panicked and he’s dressed in a robe, the tie is caddywhampus, and honest to god fuzzy bunny slippers. “Jay, what's wrong?” It takes him a long moment to process what he’s holding. “Is that-?”

“Yours.” Jason finishes, meeting Bruce half way. Without warning, he dumps Tim unceremoniously off his shoulders, earning him an indignant squawk.

If it had been anyone other than Bruce, Tim would have worried, bundled up so tight, he couldn’t stop himself before he hit the ground. But this was Bruce after all.

He caught Tim swiftly before he hit the ground, cradling to his chest. “Tim? What’s going on?”

Jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Next time, take care of your little birds, or I’m not giving them back. We don’t have any more mishaps do we?”

Bruce grimaces, tightening his grip on Tim, pulling him in just a little closer. “What happened? I thought he was supposed to be in bed last night.”

“He’s here too, you know.” Tim uttered but neither Bruce or Jason didn’t acknowledge him.

“Apparently someone failed to tell him that because one minute he was being an annoying little shit and the next he tried to pass the fuck out in the middle of an op. One I’ve been working for months, mind you.” Jason says. “All I know is if he fucks up like that again, it’ll be on your head. Capeesh?”

Bruce nods solemnly, looking pained. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Jason says, trying to sound annoyed but there was a fondness in his voice. “Seriously, don’t mention it. Just do better. The kid is an idiot with the self preservation skills of a wet paper bag.”

Bruce sighs, “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” And in a small voice adds, “You know you can stay too. You’re welcome home anytime, Jaylad. Alfred misses you, I miss you.”

“You know this isn’t my home, Bruce. I only came back for the kid.” Jason turns back to the door.

“Maybe so but Alfred is making pot roast on Sunday.”

Jason freezes for a moment. “I’ll…think about it.”

Bruce smiles softly, “I look forward to it. Goodnight, son.”

Jason waves him off and leaves, closing the front door behind him, muttering under his breath. Something about Tim and Bruce not being his dad and roast beef sandwiches.

With Jason gone, the entirety of Bruce’s attention is turned to Tim, examining him with big, blue eyes and a kicked-puppy look. “Did you really almost faint? Be honest with me.”

Tim looks away, feeling his cheeks flush. “Maybe? It really wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired.”

Bruce sighs again (because his sons will be the death of him) and starts towards the cave. “You could have gotten seriously injured if Jason wasn’t there.”

“I know.”

He did. There was just so much to do, he didn’t have time to sit down and rest like a civilian. Crime was an ever present entity—if he didn’t help, people were injured and bodies of the innocent filled the morgues. The bodies of good people with lives and hopes and families and dreams.

What use was he if he couldn’t help?

“Do you, Tim? What would’ve happened if you were by yourself? What if your cold gets worse or turns into pneumonia again?”

“I know,” he says again in a small voice.

He really, truly did, but crime stopped for no one.

Bruce’s sighs exasperated, “You’re benched and staying here until you’re better where Alfred and I can monitor you.”

No, no, no, no, no! He can’t—he won’t.

“You can’t, please, I can’t.” Tim begs.

“You can and you will. I will also be handling the board meeting that mysteriously disappeared from my calendar.” Bruce says, giving him a knowing look.

Tim grimaces, “You noticed?”

“I noticed.” Bruce confirms.

He’s Batman. Of course he noticed.

“And there’s no way I can convince you to change your mind?”

Bruce shakes his head, carrying him not back up the stairs to his room, but the clock and the cave. “Not a chance, bud.”

There was no escaping now, not when Bruce’s mind was made up. If they were heading to the cave, where Alfred must have already been waiting, no doubt with an endless supply of warm blankets and IV fluids. He was sure there would be chicken soup later when it was closer to any normal person's time of day.

Tim leans his head back against Bruce—his father’s—shoulder, letting his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” It’s a small thing but Bruce hears him and hugs him a little closer.

“I know you are. Let’s get you to bed and later we’ll have a long conversation about self care and boundaries, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, already half asleep. He didn’t want to but it was unavoidable. Now he would focus on the gentle sway as he walked, the thrum of his heart in his chest. “Hey dad?”

“Hm? What's up, champ?”

“I love you.”

Bruce chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his hair. “I love you, too.”

[peachhcs]

Samy meeting will’s teammate for the first time

another semi different iteration of samy meting some of will’s teammates when they’re in detroit for a game and she drives out to see them

au masterlist

“hiii,” the girl grins when she sees her boyfriend coming out of the locker room. the blonde quickly grins, already opening his arms to wrap her into a hug. “hi baby,” he smiles.

“sorry you guys lost, but you played well like always,” samy pecked his cheek and the boy smiled despite the disappointing loss.

“it’s okay, i’m just glad to see you for a second,” he hummed even though the time they had was not nearly enough for either of their liking. the sharks were due in winnipeg tomorrow meaning will’s bus was leaving in less than an hour.

“me too. how’s your week been?” the couple tried making the most of the now 50 minutes they had together.

“it’s been okay. busy with hockey,” will said not to complain because he’d never get sick of playing, just tired with how much they’ve been doing recently. samy nodded, “make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“i am, don’t worry. make sure you’re taking care of yourself too,” will poked her arm and she flushed.

“yeah, i am. don’t worry either.”

“how’s your week been now that soccer’s over?” will turned the conversation to her because he liked it a lot better when they were talking about her and not him and his things.

“it’s been a little weird, but we still have offseason stuff, so not too different. it is nice to slow down for a bit though,” the brunette grinned, leaning against the wall now. “i’m glad it’s been good for you. you deserve a break after the very successful season,” will chuckled.

“hey pup. hey hughes,” will eklund had come out of the locker room, a bright smile on his face.

“hey eklund. good to see you again,” samy offered a polite hug to the older blonde.

“you too. sorry you had to see us lose,” eklund frowned.

“it’s alright. you guys still played well,” the girl said. behind eklund came tom, jack, fabian, tyler, macklin, and henry. they caught sight of the three standing along the wall and made their way over to offer a hi to samy.

“hey little hughes,” tom greeted her in another friendly hug—his new nickname for her that everyone seemed to call her.

“oh shit, you’re hughes! pup’s girlfriend!” fabian exclaimed and the girl flushed when the other guys’ faces lit up at the revelation.

“that’d be me. it’s good to meet you all,” she grinned.

“we hear a lot about you,” henry teased a bit and eyed will. he avoided their gazes in hopes of avoiding the blush creeping up his neck.

“i’ve heard i’m the talk of the locker room sometimes,” samy raised her eyebrow.

“not in a bad way, don’t worry. we just like to poke at our rookie and figure out more about his life. it seems like you’re the one who makes him smile all the time whenever he’s looking at his phone,” toffoli teased the younger boy by roughing up his shoulder. samy watched her boyfriend’s entire face turn beet red, but she thought his blush was cute.

“well i’m glad to hear i’m making him smile that hard,” samy squeezed will’s hand.

“we heard from pup too that you just won the women’s soccer cup?” jack wondered and the girl quickly beamed. she’d never get tired of talking about her recent win.

“yeah, i did. my team and i won the ncaa championship for the first time in a few years.”

“that’s wicked cool. congrats, by the way,” jack smiled.

“thank you. oh, my roommate would want me to tell you guys this, but we loved that holiday inflatables video. best thing ever. she was laughing for hours after,” samy added which had all the guys smiling.

“ah, thank you. it got a lot of hits. we’re thinking about making rapping our day job,” fabian said and samy giggled.

“i mean, i think you guys could go far. or make another music video at least,” the boys agreed, appreciating her words. she glanced back at will who playfully shook his head.

they managed to keep her talking for at least another fifteen minutes. whenever samy got talking she talked no matter who it was. it was feature will loved and hated sometimes. he loved that she could quickly get along with any of his teammates, but it also cut short the time they had together.

he glanced at his phone again to check the time now seeing that there only 30ish minutes minutes left. as much as he loved seeing more of his teammates and girlfriend get along, will wanted a bit more time alone before he had to leave, so he eyed macklin in hopes that he’d help drag the others away.

the younger brunette took the hint fairly quickly, “hey guys, we should probably make sure we have all of our things before we head out.”

“shit, yeah, you’re right. well, it was good seeing you again,” eklund smiled, waving bye to samy. she waved to all of the players as they went back down the hallway to recheck the locker room for their things. her gaze fell back to will.

“they’re so nice,” she grinned.

“for you, yeah,” he laughed. they were never as behaved in the locker room but the blonde was grateful they didn’t say anything stupid in front of her.

“well either way, i think you have a good team. they definitely love you,” she squeezed his hand again which will reciprocated as he squeezed back.

“i agree. i like them too.”

the couple talked a bit more until will figured he needed to leave and double check he had everything before getting on the bus. the two exchanged a loving, tight hug and a sweet kiss o the lips.

“i’ll miss you,” will hummed.

“i’ll miss you too. get to winnipeg safely,” samy squeezed the boy’s biceps which made the boy flush anytime she squeezed a part of his body that weren’t his hands.

“you get back to ann arbor safely. text me, okay?” the boy made her promise and she quickly agreed.

“i promise, i will. i love you.”

“i love you. ugh, i wish we had more time,” will frowned, not wanting to let go quite yet.

“me too. fifty minutes is not enough time at all, but i’ll see you super soon, okay?”

the hockey player nodded, reluctantly letting go. samy pecked his lips one last time before walking away first because if she didn’t, will would never let her go.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Moral Support

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: slight angst but mostly fluff

Summary: It’s time to finally face reality and get your things back from your ex. He doesn’t make it easy for you, but you have three people in your corner to back you up.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: snowflake (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You stare at your barren room in thought. You’ve been away from Jack for nearly a month, and you’ve dodged all of his calls requesting to meet with you. You hoped never to see the bastard again but you need something from him. Your shit. You left a lot of it behind when you left, and you’d like it all back.

You leave your room and head to the kitchen where Steve and Bucky are. Thor moved out because he had some family thing in Australia, and the boys needed another roommate to help pay the rent. Luckily, one of their friends just got back from sailing the world and moved into Thor’s room.

To welcome him, you want to do something nice like make him breakfast. He came in late last night so you weren't able to meet him. You just got the eggs made when you move on to the bacon.

“I’m so excited to meet him. He’s going to love this breakfast,” you grin. “Sam, you said his name is?”

“No, Y/N. He’s sleeping. He got in late last night and we took him straight to the bar. Let him sleep.”

You plate the bacon once it’s done and put everything on a tray.

“I guess I’m not the new kid, anymore. I’m just one of the guys.”

“You’re still the new kid. Sam lived here before Thor did.”

Bucky watches you take the breakfast into Sam’s room with a shake of his head. You’ll learn one of these days. Sam turns over in bed and opens one eye only to see you standing next to his bed with a big smile on your face.

“What the fuck?!” he gasps and nearly falls off the bed. “Who are you??”

“I’m Y/N. sorry for scaring you, but I made you breakfast if you’re hungry.” Sam groans and pulls a pillow over his face. “I get it. I’ll just set this down over here. Enjoy.”

You set the tray down on the dresser and leave his room. Bucky drinks his coffee and shakes his head in disappointment.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The school season doesn’t start for another two weeks but you still get ready to hang out with Natasha. You walk into the bathroom where Steve is taking a shower so you can brush your teeth. The door opens and Sam walks in while rubbing his eyes tiredly. You spit out the toothpaste and turn to him with an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Sam. I’m sorry for waking you up like that. Not cool, bad call. I’ve been talking to the guys about boundaries, so I totally get it.”

“It’s fine,” he yawns.

“I hate to ask this when I don’t even know you, but do you have any clothes I can borrow? It’s just that I’m really low on clothes because I broke up with my boyfriend. I caught him cheating so I grabbed, like, whatever I could.”

The shower curtain flies open and Steve steps out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel. You have to admit, all your roommates are really hot. Still, you keep your eyes on Steve’s instead of on his enormous chest.

“I’m not proud of it, but I have a lost and found from women who have slept over. You might find something in there. Come on.”

You smile at Sam one last time as you leave with Steve to his room. He has one thing that’s in your size so you take that and finish getting ready. You walk to the kitchen where Bucky is still in and pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“When are you going to get your stuff back?”

“What if I didn’t?”

“Y/N…”

“You don’t know what it was like, Bucky. It sucks that it took him cheating on me to open my eyes. He was controlling. I did everything for him. All my friends were his friends. I wore stuff that he liked. I ate what he liked. For six years, he made every decision for me. I never saw it because I thought I was in love with him. I don’t want to see him.”

“Y/N, if you want to move on from that part of your life, you have to talk to him.”

You look down and sigh. You know he’s right. If you want to make this new chapter in your life work, you have to close the page on the last one. Instead of going to his house, you figure meeting up with him in public will be better. One message from you and he agrees to meet wherever you want to meet.

You pick the park because it feels like a neutral ground to you.

Twenty minutes pass when you see Jack arrive. You straighten your spine and prepare for a mentally draining conversation. He opens his arms for a hug but you don’t stand to greet him. He clears his throat and sits next to you on the bench.

“It’s good to see you.”

“I want my things back, Jack.”

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t you think you’re being a bit ridiculous?”

“You cheated on me. You’re the one who threw six years down the drain.”

“You want to talk about when problems began because I can guarantee you that it was way earlier than this, and it wasn’t my fault.”

“Jack, I want my stuff back. I can come over to get it today. What time works for you?”

“There’s no point to all of this. You’re just having one of your tantrums. Let me know when you’re done, okay? You can come back.”

“Jack, I don’t think you’re hearing me.”

“It was good to see you, Y/N. Really. Listen, call me when you’re done being mad, okay? I gotta go. I have a doctor’s appointment. It was good to see you.”

“Jack!”

He leaves before you can say anything else. Did that really happen? There is no talking to someone like him. If it doesn’t make him feel or look better, he doesn’t want to hear it. You drive back home and hesitate to walk inside knowing Bucky is going to see you don’t have anything.

You open the door and frown when you see Natasha standing in the living room practically yelling at the boys.

“Why would you go tell her to see Jack? Do you know the kind of person he is? She isn’t going to get anywhere with him.”

“Nat, it’s okay,” you sigh and shut the front door.

“What happened?” Bucky asks and stands.

“Well, he wouldn’t hear me out. He still thinks we’re together and I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“What did I tell you?” Natasha groans.

“He said what?” Sam asks, shocked.

“Yeah, so I think I’ll just save enough money and buy everything I’m missing.”

“No, fuck that.” You look at Bucky. “You want your things back? We’ll go with you. He might be able to say no to you but he won’t be able to say no to all of us.”

A blush creeps up your neck but you try to force it down. “You’d really come with me?”

“Yeah. You’re part of this now, and we take care of our own,” Steve says and stands.

“Yeah, I’d like to put this fucker in his place,” Sam nods.

“We’ll all go with you,” Natasha says.

“Okay,” you smile. “Thank you.”

You take one car over to Jack’s place knowing he’s home. He doesn’t have a doctor’s appointment. He always made that excuse whenever he didn’t want to talk about something. You pull up to the house and look through the window to see Jack inside. Having your roommates and Natasha here is giving you the courage you didn't know you had.

“Wait here.”

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Bucky asks.

“I have to. I’ll holler if I need you.”

You get out of the car and approach the front door with a heavy heart. This is it. You’re not going to let him control you anymore. You knock on the door and he answers it with a smirk.

“Come to apologize?”

“No, I told you before. I want my shit back.”

“Come on, you’re being a bit dramatic. I miss you.”

He tries to hug you but you push him away from you harsher than you meant. “Don’t touch me. I’m getting my shit back.”

You storm into the house and Jack doesn’t hesitate to follow you. Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Steve watch from the car and wait. Ten minutes go by without incident. Then, you come out of the house carrying everything you own. Well, you’re trying to. You’re dressed in all of your clothes and carrying not only a TV but a computer, a few bags, and your favorite lamp.

“Get out. Everyone out,” Natasha says.

They scramble out of the car to help but it’s too late. You look back and see the snowflake shirt you made with your students on Jack. No, that’s too special for him to keep. You trip over a rock and everything falls from your arms just as your roommates get to you.

“Come on, Y/N, why don’t we just talk about this?”

“No, there’s nothing to talk about. We’re not together anymore.”

“What, now we can’t talk about things?” he sighs in frustration.

“That’s my shirt,” you say to Jack.

“You gave it to me.”

“No, I didn’t. Give me my shirt back.”

“Oh, we’re playing this game? Okay, I gave you all sorts of crap. Are you going to give those back to me?”

“Give her the shirt back,” Bucky says with his arms crossed.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“You don’t want me repeating myself.”

“Give her the shirt back, man,” Sam says. “Her name is painted on it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re living with these people, Y/N.” You don’t say anything. “Seriously? Sweetheart, come back and live with me until you can find a better place to live.”

“You have some real nerve after what you did,” Bucky growls. “Don’t think I’m afraid to--”

“I got this.” You put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder and he nods. “I have a place to live, Jack, and it’s not going to be with you. I spent the better part of six years trying to figure you out. You made me feel stupid, and I had no control over anything. Honestly, I’m happy you cheated on me. Thank you, because if you hadn’t, I would have ended up marrying you. Then I honestly think I would have lost myself.

“I’m not going to lie. I was scared to start over. I didn’t know what to do. Yes, I’m living with three men I met on the internet. Yes, stranger danger is real, but I love these guys. I barely know them,” you point to Sam, “I just met him, but I love them. All of them. We’re done, Jack.”

“I’m going to go in and get the rest of your things,” Natasha says.

As she walks past him, she glares at Jack who just rolls his eyes.

“Now, I don’t think you want him to repeat himself, so give me my shirt back.”

Jack might have gotten away with things if it was just you, but he can’t take on Steve, Sam, and Bucky at once. With a sigh, he takes off his shirt and all but throws it at you. Bucky catches it before it can hit you, and he glares at Jack.

With all of your things back, you’re able to finish with your room in the way you want to. There is a bunch of things everywhere but it’s all here. Now you can finally move on with your life. You’re going through your clothes and folding them when someone knocks on your door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, Y/N.” You turn to face Bucky with a smile. “I’m glad you were able to get your things back.”

“Me too.” You walk over to him and pull him in for a hug. “Thank you for giving me the courage to do it.”

Bucky just smiles and hugs you back.

x

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[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

[jazzy-art-time]

Thanks

CW: cooties

It’s that Turkey thanks day here where I’m at. So I figured I would be that cringe fucker who gets overly insightful on today for a change.

But I figured I would sit down and tap for a second for anyone who would glance over at me today.

This past year has been, a lot for me. Good n bad and stuff but.

I wanted to say thank you to my friends. My dear friends.

I don’t think I would be the man I am right now without you and your support.

Like literally, prolly wouldn’t have been Raymond without you. You helped me test out everything and become comfortable with becoming Raymond. I can never be thankful enough for that, I’m closer to who I am and want to be even. I cannot express my thanks enough for that.

You guys support my artwork and my characters so much. You guys let me yap for so long and you let me send so many paragraphs for hours about my shitty ass stories and OCs. You’ve listened to so much Jolene Bennet and Pinky BrainRot you deserve awards. It seems silly but it means a lot to me that you guys are willing to listen to me insanity. I’m not that interesting of a person, so my characters are all I’ve got going on, it just means a lot that you are willing to listen.

You have also had to bear witness to the Birth of Jarble as well as its continued development. Which is very special to me due to why I made Jarble to begin with. It means the world that I can feel comfortable sharing it, developing it, getting tips and bouncing ideas back and forth. Jarble went from a shitty AU I made to escape from everything into something I hold dear to me. It’s special now, it might have died out and fizzled. So thank you for helping me create something special. Also the fact that I’m willing to share my writings with you guys show how much I trust y’all, my writing sucks and you are the few who get to witness it. I will say however, fuck you for the sheer amount of Jeden emojis, he haunts me and you do this to me I’ll get you /silly

As well as you guys aren’t afraid to call me out on my shit. If I’m doing something wrong, if I’m being out of line or overreacting… you call me out. You come to me and talk and help me get better as a person.

You were in the trenches with me when I became a Aggressive, Distrustful person who snapped and was going crazy because I was being stalked. Helped me gain the courage to speak out when I got doxxed by Travis. Stuck with me when I had to change antipsychotic medications and I went absolutely batshit and had to go to the hospital. When I was stuck in bed for nearly two weeks because I was practically almost dying. You guys… for whatever reason. Stuck with me.

You didn’t have to stick around, I never would’ve judged you if you did. But you stuck around, you came to me and laid it all out on the table. You told me when I was being unreasonable or that I was hurting you with my actions. You helped me when you didn’t… really have to.

And you continue to help me, I’m a better person now and I know that. I don’t think I would’ve gotten as better as I am without you.

You support me, you help me when I’m lost or confused, you talk to me… you share Garfield things with me or if I’m upset you send a picture of your dogs or just.. you do so much for me.

I am forever thankful for everything. I’m not good at expressing emotions, I never have been. So perhaps it’s all just nonsense what I’m saying or maybe I’m repeating myself, I don’t know.

But thank you.

For everything.

I love you guys and I wish I could be better at explaining it… that way I’m not dropping a mile long scientific paragraph on you every few months

And a thank you for my Followers as well.

Which sounds like, cocky or something to say. I don’t know, feels weird standing here going “AND TO MY FOLLOWERS” but it’s hm.

ANYWAYS.

Thank you lot for sticking around!

Within the past year and a half I’ve… been different! I cut off all social stuff for the longest time and then went radio silent a lot posting wise. Almost all my blogs kinda went nonexistent. I deleted a lot.

And then I randomly went “hey guys look at this story I’m working on called Jarble. I will tell you absolutely nothing about it.”

But y’all still? Stuck around.

Which I know I’m just like, another guy on the dash posting stuff. So perhaps it isn’t that deep as I’m making it sound? I don’t know.

BUT REGARDLESS. You guys stuck around!

You guys watched as I went insane over a AU that I never said anything about. Which might’ve been annoying when you guys asked and I just never answered because I got self conscious lmaO. Yet you guys still showed interest and shared support!

When I decided to update my blogs again, welcomed me back and showed support when I expressed interest in doing stuff again.

Even welcomed me back when I decided to attempt to be social again and join discord servers! Which was… hard for me and a 1000% awkward! Cuz I went insane and then shuffled back like a fool. Yet! Here I am!

You guys keep supporting me, sending me asks and supporting me and my work despite it all

And I thank you for that! I appreciate it and it makes me feel special when you guys appear to show genuine interest in my dumb characters and stories…

I know I’m just another idiot on the feed, but it means a lot to me that you stick around and glance in my direction.

So all in all

Thank you guys.

To everyone.

End of cooties

Edit: also thanks to my fiancé I guess. Whatever. You’re sitting right across from me and I might throw a cracker at you. But you alright I guess. 🙄🙄 don’t choke on the Turkey BabyGirl

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Okay,since I’ve just randomly randomly just reblogging Thanatos things,I decided to actually post things,more specifically an LO rewrite because f it.

At its core I do think LO is a good story,just that bad writing has squandered any potential it has to be good,so please have my take on this.(more specifically my take on Persephone,hades,and Thanatos because I have to stay on brand)

Anyways-

(The sequel)

Persephone:

She’s older.shes physically in her late 20’s/early 30’s and about seven to eight centuries older.

Her AoW only extended to those ransacking the garden.(I swear,it would have been so much more understandable to root for her if it only extended to 4-5 people instead of an ENTIRE CITY,since we know other gods have done much worse)

Her work in the underworld was mandated by Zeus as community service for the AoW.

This is more or less Zeus hitting two birds with one stone,he gets perse to make community service and maybe(hopefully) gets hades to open up to the smucks outside of the underworld because he now has an employee not from there.

Due to her guilt about the AoW,she decides that while she’s working in the underworld she’ll set out to be the best her she can be and make up for the souls she took.

At first nobody really likes her and they just think she’s someone who needed to be dragged here by Zeus and won’t amount to anything,but she ends up being the hardest working of the staff and getting a fairly infamous “employee of the month” streak,her only real fumble being Sisyphus(of which she rightfully corrected totally not being getting Hermes to drag his ass down back to the underworld and give his his infamous punishment,of which instantly gave her back any respect she lost.

She’s the type of person you think you can disrespect until she gets genuinely mad at someone,in which case everyone goes out of their way to be nice to her even though it takes a lot to get her mad.

Demeter never sheltered her,just that she heard from her mother and brother(oh yeah Plutus is in this au their twins) about the shit that happened up their(even saw it for herself a few times)and decided to nope out of that drama.

She likes the underworld a more than Olympus due to the fact people don’t get butthurt nearly as much,due to them needing to deal with crap from other gods and sometimes mortals(like Sisyphus)

Demeter was an amazing mama and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Plutus told her about the underworld so she does know a bit,but otherwise it’s a cultural shock.

She brings homemade baklava in every day of work.

She actually sent a letter to Demeter telling her about the community service…however she never got it thanks to a certain daughter of Nyx always dead set on causing discord.

Hades:

It took him two solid seconds to realize what Zeus’ plan was with Persephone so he initially looked for any reason to fire her,until he learned she was here for community service and just decided to wait out her punishment(jokes on him Zeus forgot to tell perse what her sentence was so she worked in the underworld for like a year until demeter found her when in reality she was supposed to be there for like two months)

He does eventually soften up to her(obviously) but it takes a while and a lot of baklava.

Honest to god I have no idea how to incorporate minthe in this au

Leuce is his dead wife,she died fairly recently so he’s still hesitant to connect with anyone.(“I miss my wife,Thanatos,I miss her a lot I’ll be back-“)

Recently he’s been coping via sinking into his work,Hecate and the others have taken notice but they don’t really know what to do.(their the ones that CAUSE death not deal with it)

He slowly started distancing himself from the rest of his family after the titanomachy and even more so after leuce died.

The only person he acts openly soft around is Thanatos,who he views as a son.

The only part of his extended family he interacts with is Hermes,who he actually has a really good relationship with(albeit still strained since leuce)

Fuck it.everyone has flowers symbolism.

Hades is white lilies(subject to change),perse is asphodels,thanatos(and Hypnos) is poppies,leuce is forget-me-nots,Demeter is daylilies,Plutus is orchids,Hecate is nightshades or cow parsley.

Thanatos:

He genuinely finds it hard to focus on doing his job,so people just call him lazy,so he doesn’t really try to set the bar high in return because he knows he’ll just end up disappointing everyone.

The only person who doesn’t have low expectations and wants him to try his best at his own rate is hades,who understands he finds it hard to focus but still wants him to try his best anyways.

Rotates between living with hades and Nyx(who is an extremely doting mother.

Hypnos still resides within the hr department and Thanatos helps him hide because the last thing he needs is a grumpy Hypnos.

He deals with peaceful deaths while Hermes and the keres deal with the rest.

He’s the type of person to tell himself one moment he’s gonna be really productive today and then spend the next fifteen minutes chatting away with a butterfly.

Also he can talk to butterflies.but nobody believes him except Hermes,perse,and Nyx.

The moment he finds out what Eris did she gets the “WHY WOULD YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?!?!!?” Of her life.then queue Thanatos and the other Nyx children present trying to get her to explain why she thought this was a good idea and her just saying “bc it’s funny”

Erebus = dad with no physical body who still interact with me via shadows.hades = dad with physical body who I want to impress but I don’t know how.

(If you didn’t catch on he has adhd)

[thekingofthenameless]

New Merlin lore!!!

First off, I’m retconning his schizophrenia for several reasons:

I somehow keep forgetting about it. (It doesn’t really seem like a permanent trait, I guess? Not sure how to explain it, but it doesn’t cement itself in my head like Charlie’s autism.)

I haven’t really written anything about him with it yet? Besides hearing voices, and I was never sure how accurate that is, because I didn’t want to just do it for whump/angst/plot purposes.

I also don’t want to mix up magical and mundane too much, and incorporating real magic occurrences vs. hallucinations might be harder than I thought.

I was on the fence about it for a few days, and I felt bad about doing it because my brain said I’m a coward; retconning mental illness is bad; things like that. I also felt like people would mock me and/or get mad at me, so I didn’t tell anyone at first.

I kind of thought it might be better if I gave him a different disability, but I wasn’t sure what to do at first.

But then I remembered a thought I’ve had before, even back when I was writing Emerald Embers! It was kind of a crack idea, so it stayed in my head and I never yapped about it. 😌

This was way before @aroace-edward-elric’s hyperfixation on Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), and seeing an oc with a prosthetic arm and leg.

I think @fate-is-a-lie showing me her new Earthspark oc (who has a prosthetic arm) a few days ago made me remember it! It also could have been FMA 03 worming its way into my subconscious again. Both of you, how dare you /silly.

Merlin now has a prosthetic right leg!! (I originally imagined it as his left, but I chose that one to differentiate from Ed and the oc lol. @aroace-edward-elric pointed out that Hiccup also lost his left leg.)

His amputation is above the knee, and nearly a full limb loss like these photos.

He also still has anxiety, C-PTSD, and misophonia.

I already have some funny scenarios I’ve thought about: him, of course, going to sleep without the leg so he gets a break. He forgets to put it on when he wakes up sometimes… resulting in him falling on the floor if he can’t regain his balance fast enough. Charlie gets worried even though he reassures his baby that he’s fine.

Also him somehow breaking it, and nonchalantly being like: “Oh, I broke my leg. Again.”

Everyone freaks out until he says: “The prosthetic one...”

And if I ever write the Merlin crossover thing, somehow people end up talking about how most Merlins are rather skinny? TKN Merlin, who either starts leaning against a wall or conjures his crutches (which he uses to give his leg a break besides sleeping), answers: “I’d still win the thigh gap competition, I fear.”

Looks of confusion from people who don’t know

Makes sure he’s secure in his position before snapping his fingers, unhooking his leg with his magic

It falls to the floor with a thump. Everyone who doesn’t know starts freaking out as he laughs.

He’s a dad, and he makes dad jokes. Charlie’s enjoyment of them sometimes varies.

I got inspired by this TikTok ⬇️ lol:

He’d also do that.

“How’d you even lose it??” someone asks when he reveals it.

“Reason I have yet to figure out!” finger guns

Sometimes if he tries to kick a particularly strong door in, the leg kind of breaks. “Shit. Maybe I should’ve used the real one.”

“What?!”

He’ll have other comedic moments like these, but it’s equivalent to “he’s disabled, and it’s funny sometimes” instead of “being disabled = funny”.

It’s so easy to give him a prosthetic without needing new art beside a leg design, actually! Even with how much his design has changed, you wouldn’t know since his legs are always covered. Besides that, I can say he wears wide fitting pants to hide the leg since his outfit as a whole is flowy and loose lol.

Since he has bigger thighs from being fat, it wouldn’t match like the above shown second image.

I’m also getting a prosthetic for him designed already!! The first two are some of the references I sent Specter7art (on Reddit), and the third is a suggestion he had for Merlin’s foot! It’s going to be made of iron and mostly gray. :D I’ll post it here, with a link to this post, when it’s done!

Artist credits, in order of each image: Soberana Art (on Artstation), yaasidraws_17 (on Reddit), @biposi, @thenegoteator, @cat-gh0ul, @honeyxmonkey, Soberana Art (on Artstation), @hawkes-art, @honeyxmonkey, @azurewildflight, @gaylightisminetocommand , @azurewildflight, @theeio, @honeyxmonkey, @croxovergoddess, and @isa-ah

Original posts (if applicable): Forest, Meme Redraw, Current Merlin, Cuddles, Chibi Drawing, Sploot, Meadow, Embrace, Outfit Design, and Doodle

TKN Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @taag-the-withering, @mxxnlightwriting, @lets-zofifi-stuff, @aroace-edward-elric

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

plz ignore this if it's annoying or you don't want to answer questions like these abt your fan fic anymore, but what would have happened if Paz was alive during the "main" part of The Cabin in the Woods ? Like, let's say that instead og having died Paz simply ended up in a coma while losing her unborn kid. She stays in that coma long enough for Quaritch to lose total custody of Spider. How would she react to waking up ? How would Quaritch and Spider react to her waking up ?

Not annoying at all! I love getting questions about my fics! And I think this is such an interesting concept.

So if Paz lived but was in a coma and Quaritch still went after the drunk driver that hit her, went to prison and lost custody of Spider, first and foremost he’d be Paz’s caretaker when he got out of jail. He’d have a whole set up for taking care of her in their bedroom and teach himself everything he needed to know to best care for her. He knows there’s only a slim chance she’ll ever wake up but it’s a chance he’s willing to take.

When Quaritch puts his plan into action he takes Paz up to the cabin first. Z watches over her while Quaritch is off kidnapping Spider. The first thing Quaritch does when Spider wakes up is show him his mom. Spider had never gotten a chance to visit her before since Quaritch was her care taker and Spider had a restraining order against him. So it hits him really hard to see her. If it wasn’t for all the monitors it’d be like she’s just sleeping. But then his dad lifts the covers and shows him his mother’s mangled torso, thick red scares trailing up and down her stomach like rivers. Spider doesn’t even know how someone could survive something like that. And it infuriates him seeing the damage that was done, knowing that his mom might never wake up but still having a little hope that she might. It instantly gives him a shred of sympathy towards his dad because yeah the bastard that put his mom in a coma definitely deserved it.

Because Quaritch hopes that Paz will wake up one day, he doesn’t go about breaking down Spider in the same way he does in Cabin. Because he knows damn well that if Paz woke and saw that shit he’d be dead and buried so damn fast. So Spider gets locked in his room at night and is free to walk the house during the day though the front door is locked. Anything he could possibly use for escape is locked up and hidden. He picks fights with his dad all the time both verbal and physical. Quaritch doesn’t yell back during the verbal fights but he can come up with some extremely cutting clap backs that have nearly made Spider cry on multiple occasions. The physical fights definitely don’t go well for Spider either. Spider may be taller than his dad and packed with muscle but Quaritch is stronger and more skilled. Quaritch never hits Spider just puts him in a hold until he calms down.

The only time they’re civil with each other is when Spider is helping Quaritch take care of Paz. Spider does everything he’s told without a word. They’ll both sit with her. Talk to her. Quaritch will say how happy he is to be a family again. How she’ll be just as proud of their son as he is when she wakes up. Spider sits there, all his father’s compliments feeling like slaps to the face. He’s boiling mad and wants to hurl insults at his father but something about being in his mother’s presence makes him bite his tongue. It’s when Quaritch leaves him alone with Paz that he’ll talk to his mom. He’s cried over her a few times, wishing she was awake, admitting that he’s so scared, that he wants to go home. He even wonders aloud if his mother would approve of this. If she’d be just as bad as his father. After all they are husband and wife. Quaritch always eavesdrops on these conversations.

It’s such an amazing day when Paz wakes up. Father and son are tending to her needs, Spider is just kinda idly chatting with his mom, (“hi mama, how are you? Same as yesterday? I get that. I’ve been doing the same thing for weeks because of your shit psycho husband…” ) when Paz’s finger twitches. Father and son pause, both in disbelief over what they think they saw. Then Paz’s whole hand moves, her eyelids fluttering. Quaritch and Spider are holding their breath. And then she opens her eyes. Quaritch rushes to her side, taking her hand. He’s so deliriously happy that this day has finally come but also terrified that her mind might be gone after the accident. “Darlin’.” Paz is so confused. With her other hand she touches his face as if making sure he’s real. Quaritch closes his eyes relishing the touch he feared he might never feel again. “Honey? What happened.” Her voice is so hoarse from disuse but her words are clear. Both Spider and Quaritch sighed with relief. “There was…a car accident. You were hit by a drunk driver. You’ve been in a coma…for a real long time.” Paz is in complete shock. She looks around the room, her gaze falling on Spider. “Who’s that.” There’s a hint of fear in her voice because deep down she already knows but doesn’t want it to be true. Quaritch beckons Spider forward. The teen is too in shock to do anything but comply, letting his father take him by the arm and gently lead him closer. “I know this’ll be a shock. But it’s Miles jr. This is our son.”

Paz stares at him in total bewilderment. Her breath hitches as she reaches towards him with shaking hand. “No,” she gasps out her sobs starting in full force. “No. My baby. My baby…” Spider breaks down hearing her calling him that and practically falls right into her hands. She strokes his cheek and it fills him with more emotions than he can name, “I missed so much..” an anguished scream rips from Paz’s throat. She’s so utterly heartbroken to have missed seeing her son growing up. She also knows without having to be told that the son she was pregnant with is dead. Otherwise her husband would have called him in. She wept for both her children clutching her remaining son close as they both sob onto the other’s shoulder.

So big bittersweet family reunion. Once everything calms down Quaritch asks Spider to help him get some food going so they can have a celebratory feast. In the kitchen Quaritch throws on some music so that Paz can’t overhear the whispered conversation he has with his son, “do not tell your mama why we’re here, y’a got me? She’s been through enough today and she’s already weak enough as is.”

“What the hell do you plan on telling her!”

“The truth.”

Spider scoffs, “your truth. Not the truth.”

“Are y’a gonna do as your told or do we need to go downstairs and have a lengthier discussion.” Spider doesn’t want to find out what’s in the basement but more importantly he doesn’t want to stress his mother out and possibly put her back in her coma in her weak state. So he goes along with it for now. When his mom is stronger he’ll tell her the real truth.

So Paz has to go through a lot of physical therapy. Quaritch had Ja come up to do a physical on her and he pronounced that other then the severe muscle deterioration Paz was actually in good health. All her vitals sounded good and she wasn’t in any pain anywhere. Quaritch helps her slowly build her strength back, doting on his wife like crazy. Spider is always by her side, wanting to talk to her, get to know her, soaking up all the love his mama gives him. He sees how his father treats her, like she’s his queen, and he can’t help himself from smiling over it. His parents are just so happy together. And because Spider doesn’t want to upset his mom he plays the loyal son, talking openly with his dad, all smiles. He lets his dad ruffle his hair, pat him on the shoulder and even hug him. And as the days go by being a “happy family” Spider starts to forget it’s not real. The first time he got caught in the moment, losing himself to his feelings of safety, contentment, and love, he jolts back all emotions leaving him as he reminds himself, he’s your kidnapper and a murderer. Soon he starts losing himself multiple times a day. Then catching himself starts having less impact. And soon he’s taking walks in the woods, laughing with his parents as his dad pushed his mom in a wheelchair. Talking about his day with his parents at the dinner table as they enjoy a home cooked meal. Letting his dad help him with his homework. Sitting with his mom as she brushes and braids his hair for the day.

And then it’s time to tell Paz the “truth”. They’re all gathered around the table. Quaritch prepped Paz by telling her there was something really important for her to know. Something they’d kept from her until she was stronger. “After your accident I went after the man who hurt you. I nearly killed him. I went to jail for one year.” Paz wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. “The courts didn’t let Z or Lyle take custody of Miles,” “What!” Paz is pissed. “They took custody from me when I got out. When I knew the courts would never give him back to me, I took matters into my own hands. This cabin is built on top of a mountain. No one will ever find us here. I never stopped lookin’ out for Junior when he was in the system. We talked even though I wasn’t allowed near him,” Spider’s eyes widened. “Once I finally finished this place I brought you here, then I told Junior all about it. A place where we could be a family. He was more than happy to run away from his shitty foster family.” So this is his “truth” Spider had to admit it was a nice way of selling their isolation to his mother.

His mom turns to him, “is that true?”

Say no, part of him screams. But then what would happen. His mom was still too weak to walk. And his father had made it clear plenty of times that Spider was no match for him. If he revealed the truth and Quaritch got violent he wouldn’t be able to defend his mother. So he forces a smile and says, “yeah ma, it’s true.”

Paz smiles, “It’s almost like the whole world wanted to tear our family apart. Well fuck the world. We won! We’re together now. Nothing will ever tear us apart again.”

Father and son side eye each other. “Yeah ma,” Spider says, “nothing at all.”

Thank you so much for the question! This was a really fun concept for me so I hope you enjoyed it.💙

[biohazard-inevitable]

Thinking so much about CrocFoxx ALWAYS but specifically recently i’ve had the idea of being a bastard and giving buggy heart attacks in the cross guild.

Like, at first Buggy just think I’m some new rookie recruit who is always getting lost and so he obviously tries to impress me anytime we run into each other cause hes all “i’m a goddamn emperor everyone respects me!” And hes REALLY not used to “weaklings” brushing him off so casually and stuff so everytime he makes himself huge and tries to look scary and intimidating hes met with a glare and an annoyed flick of my ear before i simply walk past him.

And then, one day, hes just exited crocodile’s office and hes just thankful he SURVIVED because that man is HORRIFYING and croc had clearly been in a horribly bad mood and would probably kill the next person who even slightly annoyed him and then buggy sees me walk up to the office and stuff and I go “is crocodile in today?”

And buggy nods a bit and then goes, “ah- but you really shouldnt go in. Hes in a horrible mood.”

And of course I completely ignore buggy because i refuse to take the clown seriously and waltz right into crocodile’s office, tail wagging happily.

Buggy of course nearly screams and is CONVINCED hes about to watch some idiot die a horrible death right before his very eyes as i scrabble myself on top of crocodile’s enormous desk.

Buggy watches timidly from the doorway as i calmly smile and say some things to croc just out of earshot, and the clown is even MORE stunned when instead of murdering me, the big ol horror of a man pulls me into his lap instead and starts petting me gently before going back to his work, saying a few soft things under his breath and I give a shit eating bastard smirk at buggy in the doorway, practically mentally flipping him off as Buggy realizes hes got a whole *new* problem on his hands considering the way some of his staff may have treated me

[taxman-talkman]

🕯️

One day. Maybe soon. You’re going to realize how horrible of a person I am. I’ve been kind of putting it off because I like having friends who didn’t have to see me at my absolute worst. Who didn’t have to be snapped at, who didn’t have to watch me swallow my pride and relearn how to walk with new prosthetics. Who don’t have to deal with the worst parts of me all the time. You’re forgiving and you’re kind but you’re not that forgiving. I know there’s a line somewhere and I don’t know what it’s going to take to cross it for you but I know I will. I know I will. Eventually. I will.

There’s never been someone who has had it so bad and who has come out of it trying to be. Nothing like. What they wanted us to be like. You got dealt a shit hand in life again and again and again and you’re still. You don’t want to hurt anyone. And you’re not. Mad. And I want you to be mad because the shit that’s happened to you isn’t fair. And the only way that I can think to. I don’t know, deal with that is to be mad. And I guess I worry that maybe you don’t think it was so bad or maybe that. It’s okay that it happened to someone as “low of a station” as you and I don’t want that. I want you to treat yourself like a person and I want you to be mad. Or at least. Something. It wasn’t fair. It’s not fair.

I think about the line that I’m going to cross with you a lot. I watch it. From where I am. I can’t see it but I always look at the next shitty thing that’s going to come fumbling out of my fucking mouth. I don’t expect you to love what I say every single time. I know it’ll happen. You’re my best friend but I know it’ll happen. I had it so good compared to you and I turned out like this.

I don’t have enough time left to make it up to you. For how I am. I’m going to say shitty things and there won’t be enough time for me to. Take it back or. To apologize or anything. You’re going to go on and I’m really, really not.

I’m scared that I’m going to cross that line and you’re just going to accept it. I’m going to step clear over that line and you’re going to act like it’s normal. Or I’m going to step over that line and you’re going to. I don’t. Know how to do this. I don’t know how you do it. How you’re not mad all the time. How you’re not just. I want you to know that you’re a person and that you get to be mad and frustrated at how things are, how they were, how you were treated.

How you are now scares me a little. I want Florix to be Florix. Not Infestation but, yourself. And I’m. I don’t want you to lose more of yourself. I want you to be yourself. I want it to be you. I want Florix, my friend. My best friend. And I can’t tell you. I don’t know how you live day in and day out with that. I’ve lost so much of myself, I nearly lost my fucking mind in shelving and I don’t know how you do it. How you feel yourself being pulled apart, pulled thin over many different places all at once. Aren’t you afraid that it isn’t you anymore? I want it to be you. I don’t want to lose you. I was scared. I know what I said. I can’t apologize.

When the time comes when I inevitably fuck this all up and I’m stumbling over myself to apologize or take it back or whatever it is that I stupidly try to come up with, I hope you pick yourself. I was ruined by what happened to me and you’ve managed to come out of it. A better man than I ever could. So I hope you pick yourself.

Good luck.

[nerves-nebula]

if i may ask, what's your writing process like for when you create a story ?

Bad and weird. Mostly I just think about it a lot, scribble down a few basic essential plot skeleton things, and then go over them and fill them in. And I do that multiple times on occasion when I’ve got more ideas. I’ve also got like 6 docs for loose stitches. One is the actual script, one’s an outline/plot skeleton, one is backstory & world building notes, one is like character speaking quirks or something- idk I’ve lost count at this point I really only refer to like three of them

Also, unless it’s like a short comic or one shot story, I don’t finish the script. If I waited to finish loose stitches script before I started it I’d never have started at all. Already, a bunch of stuff that’s supposed to go down in part 2 & 3 have been altered since I started drawing loose stitches 2 years ago. Partially because I wasn’t sure where things would go and partially because I’ve gotten a better hold on the characters & their backstories & motives since then which changes their arcs a bit. I still don’t know how loose stitches is gonna end, but I’m getting a better idea if it every day and I just write down one potential ending.

I picked up something interesting from the author of the webcomic Sakana, which is that I need to leave space in the script for me to improvise stuff so im not horribly bored. For me, a lot of stuff is vague. I make up a lot of character designs nearly on the spot, and I allow myself to change shit around so long as the main beats are hit on. It’s all good.

Also, when it comes to comics, your script is supposed to be written however you want. Any font any format as long as it’s good for you. Mine is prose-like but very informal and with interjections to remind me of stuff (character is holding x or puts y thing down, character makes a certain face, a description of a visual I don’t want to forget)

As for the writing side of things outside of comic scripting, it’s basically the same. Write a skeleton and fill it in. Main difference is that the prose are way more formal. I really don’t consider myself a writer, even though most of my art includes dialog and storytelling. Guess I don’t think I’m good enough at writing yet? Idk. It’s probably because I consider my sister The Writer in our family. Anyway hope that’s what you wanted.

[theoddcatlady]

Nearly lost my temper at work yesterday

For a bit of background, I work at an insurance company. I’m not exactly changing the world, but it pays well and it’s usually pretty chill. Except for yesterday, which I just really need to rant about. It was a bunch of little things that stacked up to my… almost explosion.

The water cooler was dripping nonstop. Citrix servers had gone down and that was the main program I use for work. I had a pounding headache from the bright lights in the office and my skin was all dried out from the artificial air. And for fuck’s sake, Barbara would just not leave me alone.

I’m not a people person. I can answer the phone and be amicable enough, but I’ve never been like BFF’s with my coworkers at… any of my jobs. Most of my coworkers get I’m here to do my job and get paid. Barbara though, good god. She just doesn’t get the hint. And I can’t exactly mouth off to her because she’s been with the company for like two decades so if she complains I’m the one in trouble… not like she’s done work for the last five years, but I digress.

“So is this your boyfriend, Ellie?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek as Barbara plucked one of the pictures in my cubicle up, cooing and aww’ing. I hated being called Ellie. “He’s so cute!”

“Andrew is my brother, actually. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” One of the only other people I can tolerate in this world. I grabbed the picture and not so gently snatched it back, setting it down. The vein in my forehead probably popped out another good inch as I saw that Barbara had left a greasy thumbprint on the glass. I’d need to clean it when she was gone.

“Oh!” Barbara cocked her head to the side. “You don’t look alike!”

“I’m adopted.” Desperately I stared at my computer, willing Citrix to get its shit together so I could tell Barbara I was busy working. I was not going to be that lucky.

“You know, I have a son about your age.” Barbara started fiddling with the other things in my space, my notepad, the pens. “He just broke up with his girlfriend, and I was wondering, I bet the two of you would love to have coffee together…”

“I’m sorta preoccupied with other things at the moment than dating. And I hate coffee. I’m more of a tea person.” Jesus Christ, I was at the point where I was begging the clock to speed up. Even with the systems down, I still wasn’t allowed to leave until four. Just in case they came back on, even though they never had in the past. I wouldn’t mind getting paid to sit on my ass and do nothing if fucking Barbara would leave me alone.

“At your age?”

Oh, here we go. I rolled my eyes as Barbara tutted her tongue at me. “You need to get on that, honey, otherwise you’re going to be unmarried at thirty! After that it’s all downhill, not to mention how this could effect your future children- is something wrong with your arm?”

Shit. I hid my hand under my desk. “No!” I spared a glance and almost starting cussing. Of all times to start shedding, this was not a good time. “Bathroom emergency, move it!”

I shoved past Barbara, accidentally pushing her to the ground in my haste. I heard her snap after me but I didn’t care. I scooted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

I held my hand in front of me to see more skin start to flake off, revealing the putrid muscle and flesh underneath. Fuck me. Today had to be that bad, huh?

My brother used to call it my ‘zombie mode’ to make me grumpy, but it’s not really like that. I keep my sanity, but I just start rotting and falling apart at the seams. It’s been like this since I was a kid, though I do tend to rot quicker when I’m having a shitty day, so Barbara can get fucked.

There’s really only one way to speed up the process so my skin grows back normal and healthy, and it sucks.

I sent Andrew a text, telling him to come pick me up as soon as he could and to bring my large coat. He knew what I meant. With a sigh, I double checked the lock before I pulled my shirt off, bra following onto the floor. Where the underwire was pressing against me the skin was already starting to come off. I gritted my teeth, grabbed on, and yanked.

It doesn’t hurt, not when my skin’s already dead. Sometimes a bit of the live skin comes with it and oh that hurts like tearing a hangnail, but it’s hardly lethal.

Pus and blood spattered into the sink as I ripped more and more of my skin away, both lumps I once called breasts slapped on the ground with a wet sound. I could see tumorous, bulbous growths starting to form in the fat. With most of the skin on my torso gone, I moved onto my arm. I groaned with relief as I finally scratched away at the sore, ripping away more skin and flesh.

I had skinned my entire upper body and was finally starting to feel relief when I heard a timid knock at the door.

“Sweetie? Ellie? Are you okay?”

Barbara’s voice made my blood boil, but right now she was exactly what I needed. I cleared my throat before approaching the door. “Sorry, Barb, I… I threw up. Everywhere. On my clothes, on the sink. It looks like a horror film in here. I called my brother to come get me, but could you please bring me stuff to clean up? I am not leaving this for Willis to clean up tonight, he’ll probably quit.”

“Oh, of course, sweetie! Don’t worry about work, I’ll handle it.”

She even was nice enough to cover her eyes as she handed me the cleaning supplies through the crack in the door. I scrubbed that floor and counter spotless, filling a garbage bag with bloody paper towels and gore so that no one would assume I butchered someone in the bathroom.

My brother gave me my trench coat when he came to pick me up and acted like he was helping me out of the building as he escorted me, in reality he was making sure I wasn’t bleeding over everything.

Now I’m home, enjoying a few seasons of Friends as I heal up. Andrew is a coroner and if I didn’t have him, I probably would’ve lost my mind and eaten Barbara on a bad day years ago. Whenever I’m done ‘shedding’, he brings me home a few human body parts so I can eat. I usually add them to whatever junk I’m eating, but Barbara was nice enough to bring me some chicken noodle soup. Now it’s chicken noodle soup plus a kidney, but hey, what can you do.

Whoa, feels good to get my shitty yesterday off my chest. Thank god it’s Friday.