#there was one other that emailed me back to tell me the property they were advertising (that is still listed as available) isn't actually

[fiona-fififi]

...

[translatemunson]

save the date

top gun pilots x female!reader blurb cw: mentions of a dress. i believe this can be read as any of the daggers, minus nat (i'm writing something special just for our girl); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve gotten the ‘save the date’ months ago. The invitation only came through the mail a few weeks back, but it was 100% set in stone: you were attending your best friend’s wedding with your aviator boyfriend as your plus one. What you forgot to take into consideration was deployment.

It was like playing in a casino: you could get lucky and he wouldn’t be called for a mission until the wedding, or he would be god knows where doing whatever mission the Navy had for him, and you’d be missing him during the wedding.

And since you were never the luckiest person in the room, he got deployed. For six weeks. One month before the wedding date. Good luck telling all your friends you didn’t get dumped, it was just that your boyfriend was government property and they needed him overseas doing some good for the country. It was honorable, but still: you wanted to walk around the venue with a pretty aviator by your side.

It didn’t help that his internet access was limited, nor that you were having second thoughts about attending. Well, if not having someone with you was a problem, he told you he could get one of his friends to take care of you — just so other guys wouldn’t take a chance on his hot girlfriend. But it wasn’t just the lack of your boyfriend that was undermining your presence at the wedding.

One week the dress wasn’t good enough. The next one, just before his deployment, you weren’t sure about the tickets and hotel you booked — he said to keep them, even if he wasn’t going anymore, because you could use the extra space on the plane and the bigger bed. Your first email to him, while deployed, was about how nerve wrecked you were feeling now that your bestie asked you to do a speech. A few days later, you went through it with him, and he reassured you were doing amazing. 

“Gosh, this would be so much easier if you were here,” you admitted on your phone call.

“I know, baby. I promise to take you to a fancy event as soon as I’m back so I can have the chance to see you in that pretty dress.” He was trying his best to cheer you up.

But a phone call across the ocean wasn’t enough. You needed him there, with you, saying you look pretty even though your make up is nowhere near as done. Or telling you look like those old Hollywood stars when your hair was still on the hair curlers. Or saying you need to hurry up before it’s too late to get a nice parking spot at the venue. Or checking if you need a drink or something else during the reception.

You looked down at your phone, hitting “send” on another email, with pictures you took from the party. The whole place is covered with flowers and fairy lights hanging from the trees and ceiling, and you miss him so much it hurts more than your high heels.

You gave your speech minutes ago, and had one of your friends filming it for you. It was a nice piece about your best friend, how she was always the one saying you were gonna be married first but hey, look at you, alone at her wedding. Of course you made fun of the lack of a plus one, but it was fine. You brought back a few embarrassing memories, also spilled some tea on the fact that she had a list with the names for all of their babies. And if one of those names was not inspired by yours, you would be seeing her in court.

“Hey, do you wanna grab another drink with me?” Your friend nudged your arm. “I hate seeing you down.”

“Can you call the Navy and file an official complaint for me? I’ll give you his full name and call sign, so then later I can show up to the courtroom and use those as proof.” You threw your cell phone inside your bag. “Sorry, I’ve been under the weather since the news broke.”

“I know, babe, and I don’t blame you.” She gave you a soft smile. “I think a drink might help you. And maybe I can convince that waiter I’ve told you about to sneak a few sweets for us.”

“Just one more drink, then I’m going back to the hotel.”

“You’re no fun, you know? Maybe something good is happening tonight.”

“Unless you have a teletransportation machine here somewhere to bring me my boyfriend, you can’t trap me for another hour with the promise of good booze alone.”

At the bar, you got yourself your favorite drink. It would be better if he was there, his hand on your waist, making comments about the party or asking you the little details about the people there. It would be his first time in your hometown, getting to know the place you were born and raised. You loved San Diego, but a piece of you would always love your hometown.

“I just wished they had decent Wi-Fi at the ship,” you murmured. “I’ve sent like a hundred pics since I’ve arrived, but still no reply. I can’t believe my own boyfriend is going MIA on me.”

“Hey, maybe it’s just bad connection. And based on what you’ve told me, I bet he’s pissed he’s somewhere in the ocean instead of by the side of his gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Please plan a wedding in the next few weeks so I can attend one with him.”

“Why don’t you plan your own wedding?” She turned the idea around.

“And throw a surprise wedding? I’m crazy, but even I have limits.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t take him too many deployments to pop the big question.”

“I might have to ask him to divorce the Navy before we can get married. Sorry, but I won’t be the mistress in this,” you laughed.

Halfway through your drink, your friend ended up going to talk to one of your colleagues from high school, and you went back to your table, staying up and trying to swing your body in the rhythm of the song — just to get your mind off of things.

You checked your phone, one notification from your email’s app. You clicked on it as fast as you could, blowing out in frustration when you saw it was just a marketing email.

You saw someone approaching from your peripheral vision, and you heard “Tough night?”

“Don’t even get me started.” You pushed your face into your hand.

“Try me, honey.”

You turned your face. And, magically, your boyfriend was there. You blinked a few times, not believing he was really sitting next to you, in a suit. You held tight into his arm, and he said “Did she let you have way too many drinks?”

“No. I mean, are you real?”

“Yes, baby, I’m real.”

“How?”

“Finished the mission early, called in for a few favors, got on the first plane here, and asked your friends to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my, you’re really here.” You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. The last time you were this close, it was the morning before his deployment. You always took the days up to the deployment as a chance to spend all the time together. Ok, you had to work, and the house chores wouldn’t magically disappear, but as soon as you were both at home, you’d stick to his side as glue.

“Sorry I missed your speech,” he hugged you back. “I’ll watch the footage later.”

“That’s ok. I’m so happy that you’re here,” you kissed his cheek.

“C’mon, let me take a look at my stunning girlfriend,” he took a step back and, with your hand in his, made you spin on your toes. The flowy dress and high heels were far from your daily clothes. “You look better than in the pictures, honey.”

Your cheeks blushed, and you could bet even the make up wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Thanks.” You took a look at him, finally noticing how good he looked in a normal suit. The color suited him like a glove, and you were considering finding a good excuse to see him wearing it again. You kinda begged him to attend in those pretty white suits the Navy had, but he was always saying those were only for special occasions.

“Should we take a picture?” He rested his hands on your waist.

“Sure!”

Now that you officially had your arm candy with you, it was time to walk around the party introducing your boyfriend to your friends. They were all very friendly and excited to meet him, but also kept the Navy related questions to a minimum. He was all smiles and handsy, keeping you close to him as much as possible.

You got your picture, on the balcony, with the gardens as a background to your affection. Your friend convinced one of the photographers to take a few official pictures — she used the “He’s Navy and flew all the way here to be with her!” card. On the first pic, you were close, side by side, smiling but keeping your hands to yourself.

And then the photographer asked you to look each other in the eyes, and it was like your lips had a magnet of some sorts. He pulled you closer, and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “Hold her like that!” the photographer said.

Once you had the pictures taken also on our phone, he took you to the dance floor. A slow song, something your parents would play in the car when you were younger, was telling the steps you were taking. Swaying slowly in the middle of the small crowd, soaking in that moment. You snuggled in closer to his chest, leaving him to lead you. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you confessed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything before.” He pressed his lips on the side of your head.

“That’s ok. You know I like surprises when they come from you.”

“I know. And I like being with you.” Another kiss on the side of your face. “And I love you.”

You  tilted your head back, connecting your eyes, “I love you too."

[hunterthecharmer]

Unexpected - Part 5

Summary: You work for an events company and end up being assigned as a talent handler for a 2 week long convention. Your co-worker ends up assigned to Glen Powell, but you catch his eye. Can you remain professional and keep him from knowing you're actually a pretty big fan of his?

To catch up, here is my MASTERLIST

Days have passed with the convention, with all the handlers speeding to and from all of the trailers on property to get the talent to all their events. You and Savannah had barely been able to catch up with each other and before you know it, you’re waking up on the last week of the con. It had been a great weekend, Dylan dividing his time through almost all the events offered each day. You were going to miss the banter with him and his easy going attitude.

The feedback from all the attendees was also starting to pour in, your email inbox full of them each day from Anne. It was getting you excited for the next event, which got you wondering if you’d be able to be a part of it again. You tuck it into the back of your mind, wanting to bring it up to your boss once you are back at the office.

You slip into the shower to get ready for the day, throwing on some jeans, a white flowy blouse and some sneakers before jumping on your golf cart to meet the other handlers before an event that day- everyone needed to grab and set up the materials needed for a sip and paint going on that day, that all of the talent were invited to. “Savannah! Hey, wait up!” You call after her, and you watch as she stops in her tracks, face lighting up at the sight of you.

“There you are, stranger! Get over here,” she pulls you in for a hug. “I don’t care what our guys need, you and I are not going to leave each other’s sides today!” You giggle at her playful seriousness, tugging on her elbow to grab the boxes inside the warehouse. 

“I actually have a lot to tell you.” You say discreetly to her, once no one else is within earshot. Everyone is scattered around the lawn building the easels for today’s activity, setting out all the brushes and paint colors nearby. Savannah bites her lip in excitement, “Spill!”

You tell her all about your rainy night at Glen’s cabin, and how you haven’t spoken to him much since last week. Savannah is quiet for a moment, processing all you’ve said. “Look, the friend in me wants to scream to everyone here that you kissed your celebrity crush but, the coworker in me wants to smack you back to reality. What were you-” You cut her off, “I get it, I get it! I know it was risky, okay? But it isn’t like I came onto him. You know I would never do something like that. I tried to leave, but he was a gentleman to let me wait out the storm..” Your voice trails off, your mood suddenly deflating. Savannah frowns. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Glen’s one of the nicest guys I have ever met, but we don’t know if he’s a player or not. Same goes for Dylan, and everyone else here! I hope you get where I’m coming from.” She searches your face for a response, but when you remain silent, continuing to busy yourself with setting up, she offers a wink and a nudge. “But enough with the pessimism. Was he a good kisser or what?” 

You meet her eyes again, smiling wide. “The best!”

--- Savannah’s POV---

Savannah drives up to Glen’s cabin, debating whether or not her idea was a good one or not. She really cared about you, and celebrity or not, you deserved to know if he thought of you as a one nighter or actually had some type of real feelings. Once he’s on the cart, he instantly begins chatting her up, just like usual, but Savannah is quiet. “Earth to Savannah. Are you even on this planet right now?” Glen’s chuckle breaks her out of her daze, causing her to swerve the cart into the grass, pushing the break to bring them to a stop. “Glen, I’m gonna level with you here, but I need you to be honest,alright? Off the record.” She questions, eyes narrowing at him.

Glen nods, “Yeah, sure off the record. What’s going on?” he asks, clearly confused.

Savannah takes a deep breath, “When I was sick, my coworker took over your schedule and everything, right?” 

Glen nods, “Right.” 

She continues, “And the night your dad got sent to the hospital, you were communicated with about that in a timely manner, right?”

Glen’s eyebrows stitch together, unsure where she’s headed with this. “Yeah…”

“So, you didn’t read it online or anything, right? I just need to be sure, because I have a thread of texts regarding that night and I just don’t want it to seem like I didn’t do my job. Yes I was sick, but..if this were to be an issue I could lose my job!” Savannah fakes her reasoning for the question, trying to see if Glen will expand on how he found out, or even give more details.

Instead, he just shrugs. “No, you don’t have anything to worry about. Your coworker let me know immediately, hell she even drove through the storm to come and tell me since I didn’t hear my mom or sister’s phone calls. Trust me, you’re good.” He smiles at her, and Savannah feels her heart sink a little bit. “Okay, good. So she came to tell you the news, and that was it? She showed you all the communication from your assistant and stuff,right?” She presses a final time, hoping he’ll crack.

“Yep, she told me everything. She waited for the storm to ease up a bit and then went back to her cabin.” He replies cooly, before reaching into his back pocket for his phone to turn off his ringer, mindlessly reading his new notifications. Savannah concedes, putting the cart back into drive and returning to the path toward the event.

 “Wait, did someone say something about her leaving my cabin so late? I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble for relaying the message to me. I know it wouldn’t look good for her job either.” Glen speaks up, and is looking at Savannah now, a hint of alarm in his voice. “Oh! No, no, I don’t think anybody saw her. At least, I haven’t heard anything.” She quickly replies, still mythed that he didn’t mention the kiss. Guess she had her answer.

-------

“Here’s your paint colors, and if you need a refill on your drink  just give me a wave or something.” You pat Dylan on the back, and he grins. “Thank you, bartender. This should be a good time! I promise you this is going to look like a toddler’s masterpiece when I’m through with it.” You both laugh, your eyes landing on a certain someone as they stride across the grass, drink in hand and Savannah hot on his heels. You turn your attention back to Dylan just as the instructor turns on their microphone. “If I could get everyone’s attention, please! Helloooooo Tennessee!”

You wave goodbye to Dylan as you both giggle, the loud noise of the mic startling just about everyone on the lawn. Savannah weaves through the crowd to grab your hand, pulling you over to the chairs for the handlers. You brush past Glen, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a small smile on his lips. You return one to him before Savannah tugs you into a chair. 

“I will be your art instructor for today, just want to go over a few housekeeping items.. Your materials have been all laid out for you by the lovely Ignite Team, so let’s give a round of applause for all their hard work; they’ve been out here since 7am this morning to make this space ready for you all.” Everyone applauds your team, and everyone waves to the talent on the lawn, everyone grinning from ear to ear. 

“Now, the special brushes with the finer tips will be up at the front, as well as texturing tools, glitter…” the instructor continues on before switching the music on and letting everyone get started. 

You turn to Savannah, “Who do you think will paint the best mountaintop?”

She smiles weakly at you, “Oh, I don’t know. Probably one of the girls…hey, want to run to the bathroom with me? Cassandra, can you keep an eye on our boys for us while we run to the restroom real quick?”

Cassandra agrees, the two of you quietly sneaking away to the restrooms down the hill.

“What’s up, everything okay?’ You question her as soon as you close the door.

Savannah swallows before placing a hand on both sides of your shoulders. “Don’t freak out on me, but I kinda sorta asked Glen about the night you guys kissed, and don’t worry I didn’t bring that up, I just acted like I was scared of losing my job over being sick to see if he’d mention anything about you.”

Your jaw drops open, heart rate quickening as you realize that whatever she is about to tell you is going to dictate your mood for the rest of the day. “And?” you ask slowly.

“He didn’t bring it up. He was concerned someone had maybe asked around or mentioned the fact that you left his cabin at such a strange hour, but…that was it. He didn’t blush or stutter or anything. It’s like nothing happened between the two of you at all.”

She shrugs before disappearing into a stall. “I actually did need to go, sorry!”

You slump against the wall, unsure of how to feel. Maybe he was just protecting the interaction? Or, it meant absolutely nothing to him and you just so happened to be at the right place at the right time. His observation rings in your ears, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Except this time, it doesn’t make your heart swell, it kind of gives you an icky feeling. What if he didn’t mean it in a sincere way, but an assuming, cocky sort of way? What if he was just fishing to boost his ego? After all, you’d like to think you had been discreet and professional this entire time when it came to interacting with him, longing glances from afar or not.

Suddenly feeling nauseous, you step out from the bathrooms to get some air, the sun shining through the gazebo overtop the building. Savannah soon appears next to you, slinging her arm over your shoulders as you both head back up the hill. “I promise I was just trying to look out for you, alright? We don’t need a replay of last year with Jeremy-” “Fair enough!” You let a laugh escape you, shaking your head. “Jeremy and Glen are not even close to being on the same level, Savannah. But I get what you’re trying to say and I love you for it.” She rolls her eyes. “The feeling of disappointment would be the same.” She states, squeezing your shoulder as you take your seats. 

Everyone is watching the talent paint- some struggling, some just chit chatting while barely getting anything accomplished on their canvas, and others seemed to be thoroughly concentrated on following the instructor.

A sudden wave atop the heads in the crowd catches your eye, and you grin to see it’s Dylan trying to get your attention. You bounce over to him, taking in his progress. “Wow, not too shabby! Are you having fun?” He smiles at you from behind his black Ray Bans. “Hell yeah! Thanks for the support, I really need it for the next section. Would you mind getting me another drink please?” You take his empty cup away from him, “Sure thing! Be right back.” 

You carefully maneuver through the easels, being sure not to knock over anyone’s stuff. Handing the cup to the bartender, you wait for them to make Dylan a new drink. You look out into the crowd to try and find Glen, and when your eyes land on him your cheeks heat immediately. He’s chatting up another guest, her dark hair thrown back in a fit of laughter at whatever he’s saying. They’re both leaning over their easels to talk, and you are suddenly reminded that you are very much not a gorgeous, rich celebrity model at this convention, but simply a girl from LA who is here to work. You make your way across the grass to Dylan, breezing past Glen and the mystery girl who has his attention to try and hear what they’re talking about. All you can catch is her mentioning New York City and Glen’s response is muffled by all the chatter happening around them. You drop off his drink and return to your table, Savannah shooting you a knowing look. “Want me to go over there? He probably needs a refill too.” You sigh, hands in your lap fidgeting with the fray on your jeans. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Really.”

In a huff only noticeable to you, she stands and makes a beeline for Glen. Her appearance stops their conversation, Glen putting his hands up in a gesture that he’s all set on needing another drink. Savannah completely ignores the girl as she walks back to your table. You raise an eyebrow at her. “I’m getting friend vibes. Seriously, she’s wearing a studded leather jacket with heeled boots while Glen’s wearing jeans and a hoodie.” You roll your eyes with a laugh. “So? He probably likes her style. Can we just drop it, please?”

Savannah nods and changes the subject. 

Another half hour passes by, and the event is almost over. Everyone’s moving to the final details of their project, the lawn mostly quiet as everyone locks in. You decide to stretch your legs and find some interesting tools for Dylan to use, making your way over to him when a hand grabs your elbow. “Hey, could I borrow one of those?” you are jolted out of focus, head snapping behind you to see a grinning Glen Powell. “Sorry, no can do. These are for Dylan, but I think I saw Savannah at the table, just flag her down so she can grab one for you.” You smile curtly at him before wiggling out of his grasp and fast walking over to Dylan without ever looking back.

The event finally comes to an end, all of the staff swarming onto the lawn to clean up the mess. The guests disperse to the event hall to eat dinner, some milling about the property to chat. 

You toss a heap of paint brushes into your trash bag, a familiar voice reappearing behind you. “Need a hand with that?” You spin around to see Glen bent over to grab some paint covered sponges, and you gasp. “No! Glen, you’re not supposed to be cleaning anything up. You go enjoy the live music in the hall!” You open the trash bag wider for Glen to successfully dunk them in, a hand running through his fluffy hair. You liked seeing it without any styling creme in it.

“Back to being professional, huh?” He squints at you as the sun shines on his face. You sigh, head leaning to the side. “I work here, remember?” You offer a small, playful smile to him as you shake the lanyard hanging around your neck, and his expression softens. “I just thought that, well..you know..” He steps closer to you, voice lowering to a whisper. It takes everything in you to step backwards from him, his cologne wafting over you. He looked and smelled so good. “You thought what? Honestly, never mind. It was late, we were both exhausted--” Glen interrupts you softly, “I was there.” 

He places his hands on his hips as he stares at you, and you glance around at the other staff members cleaning up, a few of them taking notice of the two of you conversing.

“Anyway, it won’t happen again. How’s your dad doing? Is he home yet?” You ask, before continuing to collect the trash from the ground. Glen sighs before shrugging it off. “Uh, yeah..yeah he’s home. He’s gonna be just fine, thanks for asking.” He pauses for a moment as he watches you continue to clean. “What did you mean by --” 

“Glen! Hey, Glen! Time to head out, you have a conference call in ten minutes!”

Savannah’s voice rings out from across the lawn, and you are grateful. You look up at Glen, a sad smile on your lips. “I’m really happy to hear that about your dad. Really. Now, go! Don’t be late for that call. Good luck!” You shoo him off, and he nods in agreement, a look of uncertainty crossing his features before he turns away to jog over toward the golf cart. 

That evening is the first of many campfires that week, s’mores and hot chocolate the only two items on the menu. You change into leggings and a sweater before jumping back onto your golf cart to pick up Dylan one last time for the day. 

You wait out front for him for five minutes before calling his phone, and when he doesn’t pick up you start to worry. 

“Dylan? Are you ready?” You knock loudly on his cabin door, trying to peer in through the tiny window of the door. Suddenly it swings open, a very pale Dylan O’Brien standing before you, his body weight leaning on the doorframe. “Please stop yelling.” He groans, shoving his palm into his right eyelid.

You stifle a giggle, taking in his sweatpants and hoodie that cling to his body, hair a mess. “You don’t look so good buddy.” You rub his arm.

Dylan grimaces as he nods, “I think I had a few too many drinks at the event. Needless to say I need to sit the campfire out, hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, rest up! Do you need anything?”

You offer, but Dylan shakes his head. “Just go have fun, I’m going to go to bed early tonight.” He shoots you the weakest little wave before closing the door.

The debate with yourself on whether or not you should go to the fire tonight lasted about 10 seconds, the desire to see Glen winning you over. As soon as you park, you spot Savannah and join her group that’s huddled amongst one of the many firepits.

“You made it! No Dylan? Here, have a s’more!”

Savannah welcomes you, motioning toward the empty chair next to her. You greet everyone else and happily accept the dessert, savoring the gooey marshmallow and chocolate combo after the long day you’d had.

“He turned in early for the night. Isn’t it gorgeous out here?” Admiring the stars above you, the others agree. 

You slowly direct your gaze from the fire in front of you to the other pits, eyes quickly finding Glen’s chair. He’s amongst a mix of men and women, but he’s so far away that you aren’t able to make out if any of them are the one from earlier or not. 

A few hours pass before some of the talent begin approaching the staff to turn in for the night, Glen being one of them. You recognize his voice approaching in the distance, stomach knotting as you brace yourself to see who he’s walking with.

The tension in your shoulders dissipates when he stands next to Savannah’s chair, a male figure departing in the other direction. “Ready to roll?” He grins down at her, his green eyes landing on you for a few seconds. You want to get out of your chair and kiss him again, the flames illuminating his features. His charcoal crew neck and joggers make him look so cuddly and warm. You wonder what it’d be like to snuggle up with him.

Savannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “You bet! I actually need to fill the cart up with gas though, and there’s a pretty long line. Would you mind taking Glen back tonight?” She looks between the two of you, and you nod quickly as you stand, “No problem at all.”

He gestures toward the carts allowing you to lead the way, “After you.”

 You shoot your friend a look from over your shoulder, mouthing ‘thank you’ to her as you fall into step with Glen. 

The cicadas and crackling fires fill the air, a cool breeze sending a shiver down your spine as you drive down the dirt path. 

“How was your day?” You ask him, desperate to have a non-awkward golf cart ride.

“It was awesome, I really enjoyed that painting class. Even though it’s not worthy of hanging in my house, I don’t think I did too bad of a job.” He laughs to himself as he picks at some fuzz on his sweatpants. You force a small hum in response, eyes fixed on the path ahead. 

“Are we cool?” Glen speaks again, this time his entire body turning to face you in his seat, one arm extended up to hang onto the top of the cart.

As you peer over at him, the moonlight illuminates the small smile tugging at his lips. If it weren’t so dark out, you might have thought you detected some concern in his expression. 

You nudge him softly, “Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well we kissed a few nights ago and ever since then I feel like we haven’t gotten to talk at all.”

You feel chill bumps rise on your arms at his statement. Did you really expect the kiss to never come up again? Maybe, but ever since you saw him getting cozy with the mystery girl from earlier your opinion had changed.

“Are you blaming me for that?” You feel him tense at the bite in your tone, his head cocking to the side. His eyes still fixated on you, he reaches over you and presses a foot to the brake abruptly, your bodies lurching forward as he turns the key to switch the cart off. 

“Woah,hey! I’m not blaming you for anything.”

You scoff at his words, eyes rolling at his stopping of the cart. He seems to forget that you’re still on the clock, and very much not alone out here. A few carts pass by, the both of you offering polite waves to them. A moment passes and you remain silent, fearful of eavesdroppers.

Turning the key quickly you press down hard on the gas pedal toward Glen’s cabin.

Once there, you cross your arms over your chest. “Goodnight Glen.”

Running a hand through his hair he slides off the golf cart, the only noise between you the gravel beneath his feet as he rounds the front of the cart to crouch at the steering wheel. He places a hand on your knee, shaking it playfully. “Look at me.”

His tone is earnest and you allow your eyes to lose themselves in his. 

“It was leather jacket girl, wasn't it?” he chuckles in the dark, eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“So you did notice?” You mumble, face on fire. He stands and outstretches both hands to you, and you oblige without another thought.

Glen places a hand on the small of your back to lead you up the stairs first, your mind swimming in wonder of what’s about to happen. 

“Yo, Powell! Turning in so soon?”

The two of you freeze, Glen’s grip tightening on the bannister. Out of instinct, you drop on all fours. He mouths for you to go inside, slipping his key card into your palm. You nod quietly, crawling across the porch toward his front door.

Glen turns around, backing up the staircase to try and hide your body. 

“Yeah man! I have an early call time in the morning. Why, what am I going to miss out on?”

The man laughs, “Your loss! We’re about to start an intense game of charades in my cabin. All good though, see you tomorrow!”

You eavesdrop from the window, giggling as Glen appears through the front door. “That was close!”

He nods as he locks the door behind him, closing the curtains. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see a thing.”

And just like that,you’re standing inches away from him in his living room again - alone.

“Fun fact for ya, I actually think leather jackets are tacky. Especially ones with studs all over them. They’re spikey and they hurt.” Glen feigns a serious face, his tone humorous.

“You’re ridiculous.” You grin wide at him as you throw both arms around his neck, tugging him even closer to you. Your confidence surprises you once again, but in this moment you’d do anything to feel his lips on yours again. He was undeniably attractive 24/7 but even more so right now as he makes you laugh. He had seen you. He knew you were jealous and yet he tried to talk to you at the event. You felt even worse for being rude to him earlier.

His arms wind around your waist as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“While you were jumping to conclusions, I was admiring you look out for Dylan and everyone else around you. Watching you do your job and keep the place organized.”

Eyes shining at him as you learn that he’d been observing you, he leans in to kiss you. You relax into his grip, fisting your hands into the soft material of his crewneck.

“We’re cool now.” you say before kissing the tip of his nose. He hums in response as he kisses you one more time. 

You talk with him for a good while about his schedule the next few days as well as other projects he’s slated to begin next year for work. He asks about your job back in California and you talk a bit about how you and Savannah got so close. 

When the two of you start to yawn, you stand to your feet from his sofa and he groans. 

“Don’t leave me!” He teases, tugging on your arm. You back away slowly, palms raised as you bite your lip. “It’s time.”

He kisses you, whispering a ‘no’ against your lips. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

You blush under his gaze and wave your phone at him. “Text me! We’ll figure it out.”

Accepting your answer, he unlocks the door and swings it open for you. 

“Goodnight pretty girl.” 

His compliment causes you to turn back to face him from the porch, his body leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. He looks so handsome it feels like a dream.

You blow him a kiss before quietly sliding onto the golf cart to drive back to your room.

[skullamity]

Need to veeeent.

So we are almost a week without internet. We were with Rogers for TWENTY YEARS, and over those 20 years every interaction we had with Rogers was a huge fucking mess, stemming from the fact that, waaay back when we were in college, if you wanted their normal services AND their cell phone services, it was two separate accounts. Eventually they decided to merge those two accounts and informed us after the fact. Whatever they did to merge them? Completely locked us out of being able to view and pay bills online through Rogers' interface.

Over the years, we would call Rogers for one reason or another (just switching around and then eventually slowly cancelling all services with them except for internet) and every single time they'd be like "so we see you are still receiving paper bills. we are going paperless and phasing this out, so can we get you to pay through the online portal?" and every time we would have to explain that no, we needed paper bills because their broken ass system made even logging into the portal impossible.

Without fail, whatever intrepid techie would say, "don't worry, we will walk you through it, I'll get this fixed!" completely sure that they would be the one to hold our presumably tech illiterate hands though baby's first reset password sequence and then tell us to hit okay and watch the magic happen! Only for us to get the same error message that every other tech over the years got, have us read it out to them, have them be stumped, have them tell me that they have never encountered this before, that their supervisor is also stumped, and how about we just put a pin in that and see if there's a solution in the future! We will keep sending you paper bills for as long as we can (eventually they did stop and we had to have them email our bills to our personal emails directly as a work around solution).

We first encountered this issue when we were 19 years old and living with roomates. We have both recently turned FORTY.

Anyhow, flash to last week. The internet goes out after a day where we had freezing rain, no big deal, it happens. Oddly, I'm not seeing anyone complaining about internet outages in the local Facebook communities, which makes me think, 24 hours later when it still hasn't come on again, that it might just be us. We call Rogers and a nice lady on the phone tries to walk us through cycling the router (a thing we have done in the past 24 hours about 50 times and have been doing for years), and in the process of doing this, we discover that the issue is that our old ass Rogers router has kicked the bucket when she has us unplug it and plug it back in and it just...doesn't turn back on. We tell her the model, she says OH BOY THAT'S ANCIENT, LET ME SEND YOU A NEW ONE! Just let me confirm your address!

And here is where the problems start. You see, a decade ago when we bought this house after living in it and renting it from my inlaws, my inlaws split the property down the middle and sold the other half to someone else. Even though our house shows up on Google maps, even though uber eats and various other delivery services have no problem finding our very real house with our new, updated house number (went from something like 1234 Main St., Unit 2 to 1232 Main St., no unit), Rogers tries to update our address in the system and their system is like...that's not a real house or address. We assure them that it is, and has been, for like a fucking decade. They tell us that they can't send us a new router until they have someone physically come out to our house and confirm that it is 1) real and 2) in their service area.

I need to be so clear that our house is in the exact same place it has been for over a hundred years, and that up until the router broke while tech support was trying to get us to cycle it, we had a 20 year old Rogers account for which we were paying bills! We had internet last week! And they were sitting there telling us that before we can have internet again, they need to send someone physically to our house to be like that's a house all right.

So Shay was like...you know what? Fuck this, please close our account, we are looking into your competitors. The dude on the phone (to be clear was just doing his job, I get that) offered to cut our bill down from $126/month to $50/month if we would reconsider, which only made Shay more pissed, because like...way to tip your fucking hand? Thank you for admitting you overcharge us for a service that you could have offered us better rates on literally any other time over the past 20 years? Fuck you, we aren't doing business with Rogers anymore!

So we close our account and call a competitor who offers us a better plan for $40/month, says they will have a router to us to self set up by today and didn't make us wait on hold for 45 minutes to do any of that.

The router arrives this morning at 9:30am, we set it up, and....no internet. Tech support is like not sure what's happening? So we explain the lot severence again, and they're like...okay so we run off of Rogers system. So we have to call Rogers, and have them send someone out to your house to physically confirm it is a real house, and we have to wait on them to do this because otherwise our system will refuse to believe that your house exists. So now we are waiting on a Rogers tech to be like yeah that's a house!

I just want internet, man. I have work to do, Shay is still trying to apply for jobs. My phone data for the month is almost completely used up and it is only the 6th!

Love that we left this bastard ass company and are STILL haunted by the spectre of their incompetence!

[joshsindigostreak]

O, Pioneers

Chapter One

“We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way.” - Walt Whitman

Sam Kiszka x F!OC

What started out as a series of emails snowballed into Sam Kiszka having the one person in his field he could not stand to staying in his house for a few days. It’s only for a few days. Can he survive having her around him 24/7 or will Natasha Delaney end up being the one to foil all of his plans?

Authors Note: Hey y’all!! Sorry for leaving you hanging so long with this story I wanted to get the other three stories established before I got back to this just for consistency sake. But I do hope you like Sam’s story. I have so much planned for it ❤️ if you need to catch up on the Prologue you can read it here!

Disclaimer: *Set in the months prior to ISHIYE, so in the same universe but can be read independently. It’ll crossover the most with Running Through the Garden and there will be references to the other fics but not to the point of confusion. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,793

Warnings: Some swearing but that’s it for now.

The Kiszka Estate as it was often referred to was truly a sight to behold. The grounds weren’t massive, but the Manor itself was a four-story English Tudor that danced the line of being over the top while reeking of Olde Money. The family had been living on this property for generations, and depending on what you thought of them it was either referred to as the Manor or the Compound.

Natasha stood in the circular driveway, her luggage sitting idly beside her as the Uber drove off, leaving her alone outside. She could tell whoever designed the house intended it to be visually intimidating, but it wasn’t working on her. 

Of course the mother fucker couldn’t actually pick me up from the airport, she growsed in her head. He did however, set up her Uber for her, so she didn’t have to pay for it, but it was the principle of it all. She squared her shoulders and picked up her bags, listening to the gravel crunch under her shoes as she approached the front door. 

As she ascended the steps to the Manor, the massive front door swung open to reveal Sam Kiszka. Natasha stopped in her tracks as she took him in. The Sam before her was significantly different than the last time she saw him on graduation day. His hair was still long, but looked like a professional had finally started cutting it, his forehead was frustratingly blemish free, and those Sanpaku eyes stared right through her as they always did. But the biggest difference was the surprising amount of facial hair on him. He couldn’t grow a thing on his face back in college, and any attempts were so patchy and thin that it was never worth it to even try. But now? Now there was a thick mustache sitting on his top lip, accompanied by an equally thick tuft of hair sprouting from his chin. The way his chin hair was creeping up his jawline, it was clear he was letting it do its own thing and not actively trimming it to stay in one spot. He wasn’t as willowy as he was either, having finally started to fill out. He looked so different yet so…Sam at the same time. He looked goo-

“I thought you said your flight was coming in at two, Nat?” 

Mood ruined. That smart ass tone was still ever present in his voice. 

“It did,” she replied flatly. 

“It's nearly 4:30 PM.” 

“I’m glad you can tell time, Kiszka,” she rolled her eyes and continued towards the doorway. He scoffed under his breath as she walked past him and into the house. 

“I’m just saying that keeping someone waiting like this is rude,” he remarked as he shut the door behind them. 

“Well it’s not my fault that it takes well over an hour to get from the airport to these…hallowed grounds,” Natasha gave him an irritated look over her shoulder, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

Sam rolled his eyes back at her, and the conversation he had had with his best friend Daniel a few days prior ran through his mind.  

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be having a guest at the house this weekend, she’ll be flying in around 2:00 PM,” Sam threw out before taking a bite out of his bagel. 

Danny stared at him from across the little table they were sitting at. Every few days they’d have breakfast together before going their separate ways for the day, and on this particular Wednesday morning, Danny was taken aback by what Sam had just said. 

He leaned forward towards Sam and rested his elbows on the table, “you’re having a guest…at your house?” 

“Mmmhmm,” Sam replied, still chewing. 

“...and this guest is a girl?” Danny tried to not smile but his eyes twinkled anyway, “is there someone I don’t know about?” 

Sam finally swallowed and looked up at him, realizing how he made this sound, “Oh don’t get that look on your face this is strictly for professional reasons. She won’t be here for very long.” 

“Professional reasons,” the skepticism clouded Danny’s voice. 

“Yes. You know her anyway,” he added before drinking more of his coffee. 

Now Danny was even more curious, “I do?”

“Yeah. It's Nat Delaney.” 

The Wolf blinked several times at Sam before answering, “Delaney is staying…at your house?”

“Yeah it’s just for some of her own research. There’s an artifact she needs to get her hands on and I refused to risk it through the shitty mail system so she came to me instead,” at this Sam had finished his meal and sat back in his own seat. 

Natasha was a frequent subject between the two of them in college. She was the only student at that university to get better grades than Sam, which pissed him off to no end. Danny had no issue with her, as she was always nice to him and her exceptional grades didn’t matter to him. Even though his best friend bitched about it constantly, they were both still the top of their class. He also thought that a little competition for Sam was good for him. It wouldn’t keep him humble by any means, but it would keep him on his toes. 

“How did this happen?”

“We exchanged some professional emails and she explained her dire situation and I, just happened to be the solution to her problem,” Sam didn’t even try to hide the smug look on his face. 

The two friends stared at each other for a few minutes, but with entirely different trains of thought. 

“So is she just going to stay in one of the guest-”

“I’ve already got the corner room cleaned up for the most part, just have to get some of Jake’s shit out of it.” 

Danny had been wandering the halls of Sam’s house since he was 14 years old, and he knew exactly what room Sam was referring to. The ‘corner room’ was what they called one of the many rooms that was intended to be for guests, but over the years each of the kids started using it as a storage room given its proximity to their bedrooms. The proper guest rooms were on the first floor, just off the kitchen. The corner room was also a literal description, as it was at the end of the hall on the second floor. The corner room was also directly across from Sam’s. 

“Why that room?” Danny asked, his eyes twinkling again in curiosity. 

“It was the closest room I’d need to clean out and the rooms downstairs and who wants to stay in the rooms downstairs that my parents' weird friends use?” 

“Ok,” Danny said, elongating the letters and not believing a word that came out of Sam’s mouth but playing along anyway. “Are you going to put a chocolate on her pillow?” 

Sam gave him a look, “totally and I have so much of it around the house since you can’t eat it.” 

Danny frowned in offense, “I can eat chocolate, Sam and you know it.” It was a common stereotype that since Wolves were in fact, Wolves, that they couldn’t have chocolate like regular canines couldn’t. It also had been at the center of an incident where Sam’s mom had brownies left out on the counter and Danny dove in and shoved a corner piece into his mouth, and Sam panicked that he was going to get sick from it. But no, the young Wolf was fine. After that it became a running joke between the two friends.

“Anyway, she should only be here for a few days max and then she’ll be off to whatever it is she’s been doing,” 

“I’m definitely swinging by. I’m not going to miss the two of you kill each other.”

“I can assure you, Daniel, that she won’t be there long enough for that to happen.”

“Sure. I believe that. You couldn’t even go five minutes in Professor Reid’s class without snapping and correcting each other. Or all the times you started arguing in the library and nearly got kicked out for being loud. Or when you’d fight over that one bench under the will-“

Danny. It’ll be fine.” 

Sam was snapped out of his memory by Natasha’s voice. She had walked into the main corridor of the house, right next to the grand wooden stairs and the archway into the formal living room.

“So where in this palace am I going to be staying? How many bedrooms is there? Eleven? An even dozen?” 

“Seven. And your room is upstairs.”

She looked up the stairs to her left, noting the carpet that ran down the middle of the steps, the solid wood rail and banisters. The whole manor was the definition of ‘they don’t make them like this anymore.’ The family clearly spared no expense preserving the integrity of the architecture over the decades. 

“Lead the way, Kiszka.” 

She stepped back to let Sam get in front of her and before she could reach for her bags, long slender fingers curled around the handles. Sam didn’t say a word and began up the stairs, taking her heaviest bag with him. She stared at him momentarily, surprised by the gesture, but quickly recovered with the rationale that it was the least he could do at this point. 

At the top of the stairs Sam took a right down the open hallway that led down a corridor that split off in two opposite directions. He took a right and Natasha counted three doors on either side of the hall before Sam stopped at a final fourth door on the right. There was a door at the very end of the hallway, right between the final two doors on either side. 

Sam used his free hand to twist the doorknob, revealing the room behind it. 

The first thing Natasha  noticed were two nearly floor to ceiling windows on the wall that was opposite the doorway, flanking a large four poster bed. She followed Sam into the room and spotted another door on the far wall on the right, which she guessed was for a closet. There were antique-looking amber lamps on both nightstands, and as she turned to view the wall next to the door, she saw one of the most beautiful rolltop  desks she had ever seen, pushed up into the corner with a few bookshelves on the right of the desk leading back to the doorframe. 

It was another antique, and the craftsmanship and details in the wood was so intricate that it had to have been done by hand. She wanted to run over and push the lid back to reveal the actual writing surface and the little drawers for writing supplies. 

Sam's voice cut through your thoughts, “it’s not much but it’ll work while you’re here.” 

Natasha turned around and gawked at him, it nearly irritated her how privileged he sounded, “Sam this is a beautiful room.” 

He blinked at her, not used to hearing her verbalize positive sentiments. After a few moments of eye contact he looked around the room and asked, “so, where do you want me to put your stuff?” 

She pointed to the foot of the bed, where a small bench sat just in front of the frame, “there is fine.” 

As he situated the bags, she turned to walk over to the large windows. The view was almost better than the room itself. The lush lawn stretched out on the grounds below, a thick blanket of trees stood off in the distance, fencing in the grass. She looked to the right of the window and her eyes went wide at the sight of what appeared to be a small but ambitious garden. Several raised beds were lined up in neat little rows, along with a few ground-level beds off to the side. 

She looked over her shoulder at Sam who was still standing there with his hands in his pockets, “is that your garden?” Maybe the light was playing tricks on her but she could’ve sworn that Sam’s cheeks reddened at the question. 

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, “you garden?” 

“That’s typically what one does in a garden, Nat.” 

Her brows fell at his tone, there was the Sam she knew. 

“I was just surprised because you never took any of the horticulture classes at Lakewood, at least from what I remember.” 

He shrugged, “I didn’t really get into it until after we graduated.” 

The image of Sam Kiszka gardening was an image that would remain locked in her head. Nope, no one was going to know about the way she instantly envisioned Sam of all people gently watering a tomato plant. 

“Well, hobbies are good,” she said lamely. What the fuck, Delaney? Hobbies are good? You simpleton.  Desperately needing to change the subject, she turned on her heel and pointed over to the roll top desk in the corner, “that’s really pretty.”

Sam looked over at the antique, he wouldn’t tell her that he spent the better part of an hour the day before dusting and polishing the wood. He wouldn’t tell her that he was on the floor making sure to get all the nooks and crannies of the legs, clearing out any cobweb he saw. There was no way he was going to let any piece of furniture be the subject of her scrutiny. Natasha Delaney, knowing he had a dusty house? That would be humiliating. Right? 

Right? 

“Oh, yeah, that was my great-grandmother’s. It was a present from my great-grandfather to make up for him being stuck in France for a lot longer than he intended because of a hunting job.”

Natasha nodded in response and walked over to the desk. She turned back to Sam, “can I…”

“Go right ahead,” he replied while walking over towards his rival. 

She smiled and turned around to lift the roll top, but it didn’t budge. She tentatively tried again, but it would not lift at all. Well shit. 

Sam saw her struggle and reached around her to help, their arms brushing against each other. 

“Sorry it gets stuck sometimes,” he mentally cursed himself by not double checking before she got there. His large hand nearly wrapped around hers to get a grip on the small handle. Her wine-colored nails stood out to him. The undertone of the polish complimented her skin perfectly. The same skin that felt so soft in comparison to his. The image of Natasha meticulously painting her nails flashed in his mind but he quickly shook it away by focusing back on the desk. In slight frustration he jerked at the handle one final time and it immediately slid up and into place, revealing the rest of the desk. 

A small gasp left Natasha’s lips as she saw the gorgeous inlays on the writing surface. 

Sam refused to acknowledge the physical reaction he had at the sound, or where on his body it happened. It didn’t happen. Nothing to see here. 

“This is so pretty! It had to be done by hand given the time period and the attention to detail. A machine could never do this,” she explained while lightly dragging her index finger along the edge of the main inlay in the center of the desk. She didn’t even realize she was rambling because of the proximity to Sam. He was still bent at the waist next to her, leaning his one hand on the desk. If she just turned her head to her right, ever so slightly, their cheeks would touch. 

The two rivals stood there, rooted in the spot, waiting to see who was going to blink first in this standoff. Sam did not want to acknowledge how the loose spiral of blonde hair in front of her ear was just barely touching his face. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his lips could brush that same ear if he turned to his left just so. The silence was deafening. 

They were so distracted that they didn’t even hear one of the doors downstairs open and shut. 

They didn’t hear the footsteps on the stairs. 

They didn’t-

“Natasha-fucking-Delaney,” a familiar and deep voice called warmly from the doorway. The sudden noise started them both and caused them to jump and spin around. Sam couldn’t even focus on the second sharp gasp that his house guest made so close to him. She had already taken off to envelope Danny in a hug. Sam stood there in front of that roll top desk, suddenly by himself.

For the first time since he was fourteen, Sam was disappointed at the sight of his best friend.

Tag List:  @roving-blade , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty ,

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not allowing someone to look at the serial number on my PS5 or the PS5 box to confirm it is not someone else's?

Okay, so, last month a now ex-family friend (I will call him M, late 30s - early 40s) got kicked out of a shed he was living in, in the back of his brother's garden. So he asked my dad (73) if he could keep a couple of things in our garden, and my dad, despite me (29F) and my ma telling (ma is also in her 70s) him it is only going to lead to trouble, and he also already had a storage locker that he could take it all to. He didn't listen to us and said that M could. Ma and I weren't very happy about it, but you can't really tell dad anything without getting snapped at.

So M put his electric tricycle in our back garden on the decking, some other electrical bits for it in my dad's shed. He also asked us to keep his son's PS4 for him safe as he doesn't trust his family (his brother and the people living in his brother's house would steal from him all the time, and his parents, and other brothers who live with them are drug dealers and M doesn't trust their customers or them to not steal and sell it.) And he asked us to keep his PS5 which he put in a blue suitcase because he didn't have a PS5 hard case to carry it with.

We left the PS4 and the PS5 alone. The only time we touched either was to put the PS4 into a bag because he never put it in one, and to move both the PS4 and PS5 into the shed, which is secure while we had the living room floor ripped up to fix it as it was rotting away. But other than that, no one touched it.

Now three weeks ago, more like four at this point, he came over to collect his PS5 and PS4 routinely like he always does (he also leaves his things unattended at his parent's house while he goes out to smoke weed or to sell drugs. He also used to live in a group home after leaving the shed he lived in, and now currently lives in a caravan outside his parent's home, which is opposite our home.) Anyway, he left with his PS4 and PS5 and back a couple of hours later yelling at my dad.

M said that my dad, me, my brother (30M), and our long term family friend (B. Male and I think either late 40s to early 50s) of logging into his PS5, changing the email address, changing his password, deleting all of his games and pictures from it and swapping his PS5 for someone else's.

To clear things up, me, my brother and B have our own PS5s. B has a digital one, I bought one back in March because Microsoft banned my account and wouldn't get in touch with me for 4 months (this was because I added my phone number as a security message.) And my dad bought my brother one because I got one.) So we have no reason to swap PS5's at all since we all have our own, save my dad and ma who watches me play mine when I sit downstairs with them. And if we didn't have a PS5 we wouldn't do anything to someone else's property, and we also do not have the money to just... Randomly get a PS5 to switch with someone else's PS5.

He said that we must have done something because he's just left it here. Forgetting he takes it back to the group home, he took it over his parents, he took it to the caravan site he used to have his caravan in and would often leave it there where he leaves the doors unlocked and anyone can get in. M left when my dad told him to take his stuff and leave and that he (my dad) wants his tools back.

M came back 5 days later, told us that he called the police and that he handed the police his PS5 AND now his PS4 over to the police because "now the 1tb hard drive in the PS4 is missing, and you took it! That or your friend did because you told me that B was having storage issues in his PS5" when B never even knew that we were keeping his PS4 and PS5 safe. And neither of us have a PS4 either, no reason for us to even touch ANY of this PlayStations. My brother and I told M that he's not going to find any of what he's looking for here 'cause we have our PS5s.

So M asked to see our PS5s to make sure. And ma and I said at the same time, "no you can't. If the police are involved then the POLICE can check the PS5s." To which he turned around and called us assholes. But this was 3/4 weeks ago, and we still haven't had a visit from the aforementioned police.

So... Are we Assholes?

TLDR; M accused me and my family of swapping and stealing things from his PS5 and PS4, "called" the police on us, and called because we said no to HIM checking the serial numbers on our PS5s. (3/3)

What are these acronyms?

[thedreadvampy]

My housemate is moving out in January

She told us this a week or two ago, when she sat down and, after sitting with us watching TV for over an hour, said "hey so I bought a house and I'm moving out. We agreed on 2 months notice so I won't move until the end of January."

The last time she talked in the immediate terms about buying a house was in 2021, when the sale she was working on fell though and she was unemployed so it was a "when I'm back in a position to look I'll start looking again." Since then I've occasionally asked her how she's doing on the house buying front and she's been like "oh I'm getting there financially" but hasn't mentioned anything concrete.

She didn't tell us she was looking at places. She didn't tell us she had put in an offer. She told us when the offer was finalised. A week AFTER she emailed the letting agent about getting out of her part of the lease. And, it increasingly feels like, only because the letting agent's response was that we had to agree to change the lease.

The letting agent's response (which our housemate obviously didn't copy us into; we had to follow up separately and they copied us into the email chain) also includes that when we change the lease, they're empowered to change the rent, quote, "no cap". Rent was already going up in January - there's no possibility of Sam and I paying her share of the rent.

The really fucking upsetting thing is we're not strangers. This isn't a casual "housemate we found on flatshare" thing. She and Sam have lived together literally their entire adult lives. Me and her have known each other well over a decade. I lived in her and Sam's flat when I was homeless. We were the first people she came out to as trans. We're not super close but I thought we were fucking friends. And she's literally gone out of her way to not talk to us about this for what must have been months while the sale completed - which means she's lied to my face at least once cause I've asked her about her finances in that time (cause she's in a job she hates that she only took to get the house money, so it's like. when we've been commiserating about work stuff I'm often asking 'are you almost free?'). she literally went out of her way to talk to the letting agents before talking to us about putting us in a situation where we could lose our fucking home.

And she keeps. trying. to pretend nothing's happened. Every time I've seen her since then she's not mentioned anything or apologised or anything, she just keeps chatting away and offering hugs and fistbumps like nothing's happened. Like we're still fucking friends.

All it would take for us to still be friends and to be happy for her would have been one fucking sentence in the groupchat like "hey, just put an offer in on a house" or "I'm looking at properties, just so you know, that might happen in the next few months". Like nobody begrudges her for buying a house! It's very cool for her! She's 31 she's worked really hard to get the money I would love to be happy for her! Unfortunately she decided avoiding conflict is more important than giving the people she fucking LIVES WITH (who btw fronted her a month on the rent here while she was unemployed and agreed to take on a larger proportion of the move-in cost back in 2021, if we're still holding ourselves to shit we said 2.5 years ago), so no, you are not entitled to our friendship or to going back to normal.

like if she'd been honest with us it would have been something to process but we'd have had time to figure out our next steps. instead she's left us in a position where we have to find a new roommate before she gives her one month notice, which means finding someone by the end of December, which oh look that's the middle of the fucking Christmas holidays. and she didn't tell us anything until the START of December, or copy us into her conversation with the letting agent, meaning we still don't know what the rent on that space will be so we aren't yet in a position to advertise it. Has she offered to help find a roommate? Has she fuck. Has she offered to help out by moving her move-out date? Nah, she's moving as soon as she gets the keys because, quote, "that means her finances won't have to change". SOUNDS LOVELY. NOT HAVING YOUR FINANCES SUDDENLY CHANGE. I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY REASONABLE FUCKING GOAL.

Thirteen fucking years she's lived with Sam. Four fucking weeks over Christmas she's left us to figure out a way to not turbofuck our living situation. And she's got the fucking nerve to try and pretend we should be interacting like nothing's changed. Jesus Christ. What a fucking unhinged way to treat...anybody, honestly. never mind the friends-your-entire-adult-life part. literally cannot imagine a scenario in which I would buy a house without telling the people I lived with.

(haha actually this is what my parents divorced over so apparently it's not unusual. although at least my dad had the decency to tell the woman he shared finances with at the point he put in an offer not the point the fucking sale went through.)

Like we'll be fine. It's a huge city centre flat with decent rent and queer housemates, hopefully even when the rent goes up it'll be an easy sell in a city with a huge housing shortage and big queer community. We've got a couple of people interested already, sight unseen - worst case scenario we have to live with someone we don't get on with. And it's given Sam and me a push to look at our own finances and as of today, we've got a mortgage decision in principle and can start looking at flats in the area - mind, we'll be transparent upfront and tell any prospective housemates that yeah, we're looking to buy and move out in the next 6-12 months, and we'll tell them if we put an offer in, because we're decent fucking people who aren't going to spring that on someone out of the blue.

But it's been I think 2 weeks and I'm so fucking angry I could spit. It's such a fucking betrayal. And frankly you know selfishly like. I just had a breakup a couple of months ago, I'm in the middle of moving jobs, both me and Sam have a history of housing instability and this has been the first decent, stable, safe, not-mouldy not-freezing home I think any of us have had, and this is so fucking triggering and upscuttling I could just start biting. like I was talking to my friend about it last week and it's just like. Can I have One Fucking Thing of the three main tentpoles of survival - home, work, relationships - that are fucking stable right now? because shit has been In Flux lately. and at least the work and relationship stuff has changed because of my decisions. going through all that work to make myself short-term unstable to gain long-term stability has been really hard and draining and then just as I was reaching the crisis point with work stuff BOOM, IT'S HOUSING INSTABILITY WITH A STEEL CHAIR. fuck. seriously fuck this and fuck her. we're going to make something good come of it but what a deeply, unbelievably shitty thing to do.

[gregorygerwitz]

Other Moustead + I will give you a treat if you just lay down and go to sleep.

hello, love! you already know this, but this is a follow up fic to a simple distraction. it expands on a story that Mouse tells in that fic, and deals with the aftermath of the events of it, so I do recommend reading that one first!

[ i’m in a Will/Mouse prompt mood ]

[ text | from: Will ] I know sneaking out in the morning is your thing but I wish you had at least finished the water [ text | from: Will ] how's the hangover? [ text | from: Will ] alright I know how to take a hint [ text | from: Will ] you don't have to respond to any of this if you don't want to [ text | from: Will ] but you know where to find me if you want to talk [ text | from: Will ] stay safe, okay?

[ text | from: Jay ] hey, haven't seen you since the party [ text | from: Jay ] wanna meet up for lunch this week? [ text | from: Jay ] I was hoping to ask you something [ text | from: Jay ] you can pick the place if you want [ text | from: Jay ] if you're too busy it's okay, just give me a call

[ text | from: Will ] I know you hate it when he does but Jay is really worried [ text | from: Will ] text him back, please [ text | from: Will ] you can come over for a drink after if you want [ text | from: Will ] do I get any brownie points for warning you that his question is wedding related?

[ text | to: Jay ] sorry, life's been hectic [ text | to: Jay ] what's up? [ text | from: Jay ] you're cutting it close [ text | from: Jay ] I know there's less than a month until the wedding [ text | from: Jay ] but you weren't exactly getting back to me [ text | from: Jay ] wanna be a groomsman? I can swing it so your aisle partner is Kim [ text | to: Jay ] I'd be honored [ text | to: Jay ] get me all the info [ text | to: Jay ] I'll clear the entire weekend for it [ text | from: Jay ] hell yeah [ text | from: Jay ] take it easy until then, alright? [ text | from: Jay ] I don't need you looking like shit in pictures because you're pushing yourself too hard [ text | from: Jay ] I'll email you everything and make sure all the reservations get updated [ text | from: Jay ] I love you, man

[ read the rest below or on ao3 ]

Mouse had managed to avoid anyone from his previous life in Chicago for almost four months. He could ignore texts and phone calls, focus his attention on finding an apartment and a job, and pretend there was no old life to acknowledge in the first place. But there were only so many texts and calls he could ignore before they started coming from other people, too. It was probably only a matter of time before officers showed up at his door for a wellness check.

Besides, even using what disposable income he had to buy something that would get him around the city didn't completely distract him from the ache he still lived with.

He could have taken the offer to ride out to the property with Kim and Adam, meet their daughter during the drive that would take a few hours, but he was still trying to stick to his plan. He didn't want to get comfortable in that old life again, not when he would be ignoring everyone again after the wedding. He didn't even really want to go to the wedding, but it would have been cruel to deny his best friend his support, and he was hurt, not cruel. Just the weekend around everyone would be too much, and he was thankful that he'd have a hotel room to himself - a perk of not having a plus one to bring along.

Instead, he took his impulse purchase of a motorcycle on the road. He had to drive from Chicago to Wisconsin, to the cabin he'd actually been to once. It was hours of feeling the wind, listening to nothing else but the rush of air, and feeling the hum of the bike underneath him. It was great, more than enough to focus on that wasn't where he was going and what he would be there to do. It wasn't a perfect distraction, but it wasn't like he could go around hooking up with random guys all over the city. One rejection too many had stopped that habit in its tracks.

Riding alone to the property also meant that Mouse could time things so that he was a little late. Being late meant he could avoid seeing anyone when he showed up. The wedding and reception would be at the cabin, and from what he understood, Jay and Hailey would be spending their honeymoon there, too. But that meant everyone else had to stay off site, both before and after the ceremony. The details were vague, but the hotel rooms were a treat from Will, something about some reward from an FBI investigation, not that he'd asked any questions about it. If he could help it, he wouldn't talk about or to Will Halstead all weekend long.

At least, that was the plan until he met Jay in the lobby.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for the last two hours."

"I can't see my notifications when I'm on my bike. I was focusing on the road."

"Yeah. Thanks for being safe," Jay said while he stepped forward, holding out a key card with a small frown. "That doesn't change the fact that there was an issue with the booking. I told Will to add another room, and he said he did, but then the hotel was overbooked-"

"Jay, hold on." Mouse took the key while he shook his head, his helmet tucked under his arm. "What does that mean? Who am I bunking with? Please don't say Kim and Adam..."

"First of all, Mack is more than old enough to sleep through the night, but no. We already had to put Kevin with them. We're three rooms short from what Will booked."

"Okay. So who am I stuck with?"

"Will."

The answer made him pause, and he almost handed the key back so that he could go back out to his bike. He would find his own motel room down the road for the weekend, get the solitude that he needed, and have minimal interaction with the rest of the wedding party. But that would be really hard to explain to Jay. What would he even say? No, I can't room with your brother. I tried to hook up with him and he rejected me so I can't actually look him in the eye ever again, let alone be alone in a room with him.

"And it was the last room they had available, so it's not very big. Not even a kitchenette."

"Okay? I'll eat plenty at the reception, then, and order in if I need to."

"Are you sure? It's really small. There's no couch or anything."

"Jay, I have shared a bunk with you under worse circumstances. I'm sure it will be fine. We'll barely be in there anyway."

"And there's only one bed."

No.

He probably could have handled sharing a hotel room under most circumstances. Will was the best man, and Mouse had his own tight schedule with being a part of the wedding party himself. They wouldn't have any time to be alone together when they were actually awake. Falling asleep in the same room and sharing a bathroom wasn't anything more than he'd done with members of his unit overseas. He'd even done it more than once with Jay when they'd come home again. But sharing a bed with the person who had pushed him away and rejected his advances was too far, even for him.

The second to last thing he wanted to do was be stuck in a room with Will Halstead all weekend. The last thing he wanted to do was get back into the same bed as him. He wouldn't survive the weekend if it came to that - at least, he wouldn't want to survive the weekend. Mouse would be watching the man who loved him get married to someone else, and have to sleep next to the man who had rejected even a single night of his company the entire time. Every new piece of information he got about the weekend only made things so much worse.

"Jay, when have I ever had an issue sharing a bed with someone? Besides, as a groomsman, I have a duty to the universe to get laid this weekend."

-

After using the card to open the door, Mouse leaned in the doorway itself so that he could peer into the room. He faced exactly what he expected to find there.

Will was sitting in the middle of the bed, his laptop perched on his knees while he held a pencil between his teeth. There were sheets of paper and a notebook on top of the blankets, spread out so that every scribble on them could be seen. He didn't even look up when the lock clicked or the door creaked open, at least not that Mouse could tell. He was entirely caught up in what he was doing, not even lifting his gaze when he opened his jaw to drop the pencil into his lap, and it was more attractive than it should have been. It wasn't fair.

"Jay, you might just have to consider that he won't be here tonight. Mouse is a grown adult and he's allowed to be late if something came up."

"I had to stop for gas. I'm not that late, am I?"

Familiar brown eyes finally looked up at him, tearing away from the computer screen for the first time since he'd entered the room. He still hadn't entered, really, lingering half in the doorway and half in the hall. Entering the room fully was dangerous. He could be told to leave, or rejected again, or told off. Leaving in the morning was his oldest habit, but he knew it could hurt from the other side of things. He'd gotten that rant in the middle of a bar before getting a drink thrown in his face. He hurt people, and he felt bad about it, and it would be more than reasonable if Will wanted nothing to do with him.

"Thank god you're here." There was some scrambling, ruffling of papers, long legs in grey sweatpants emerging from the form on the bed so that he could stand up. "I'm trying to finish planning Jay's bachelor party, and some asshole rode in here on the loudest motorcycle I've ever heard in my life. Can you do me a favor and figure out who it is? And tell them off for me? Use some made up army story to scare them, or something, I have work to do."

With a weak smile, Mouse straightened up so he could step into the room completely. He lifted the arm that had been hidden by the doorframe, the helmet he wore when he was riding in his hand. It was half an explanation and half an apology, the words coming out slow and hesitant. "Can't I just say my bad and buy you coffee in the morning, or something?"

Will stared at him for a long moment, blinking while he took in what he saw. The last time he'd seen Mouse, he had been drunk in his bed, wearing jeans and a patterned shirt buttoned up halfway. Now, he was sober and upright, the same jeans on, a different patterned shirt, and a leather jacket that he'd bought mostly as a joke. It just happened to look good on him, so it got worn more than he'd originally intended.

"Since when do you ride a bike like that? Last I heard, Jay was calling you a stereotype and refusing to let you even pass him the keys."

Shrugging, he walked far enough into the room to let the door swing shut behind him. They were properly alone, then, for the first time in more than half a year. It felt normal, as long as he didn't think about it too hard. "I got a good deal on it. It helped that my name is still legally Gregory Gerwitz. With the number on the end. It still means something, to some people."

"At least this time, when someone called you a parent's name, it wasn't in the throes of passion. I assume."

Mouse bit his tongue at the reminder of his weekend in Atlanta, not letting any of it show on his face while he gathered the energy to respond. If he wasn't successful, Will was at least respectful enough not to acknowledge it. "The saleswoman wasn't really my type, no."

"Well, that's something, at least."

"At least." Slowly, Mouse walked across the room to put his bag down next to the desk. He hesitated for a moment before setting his helmet on top of it and taking a seat in the nearby chair. If things between them hadn't been such a mess, he would have sat down on the bed, especially when they were going to be sharing it for multiple nights. He couldn't stop to think about that for very long, or else he'd remember how long it had been since he'd done something like that - which was never. One night was his maximum, historically, and that was something that almost everyone at the wedding that weekend knew. He didn't commit, even temporarily, and he'd left his comfort zone back in Chicago.

"If you need to rest after driving all day, I can finish party planning tomorrow. You might have more ideas than I do, actually."

Mouse watched him for a long moment, his eyes following Will's hands while he gathered up papers and closed his laptop. The last time there had been one queen bed between them, they hadn't exactly shared it, and there hadn't been any part of him that actually wanted to try to navigate that situation again. It was too terrifying to think about, especially when it would be entirely reasonable to throw him out of the hotel room. It wasn't like he was paying for a single penny of the weekend. He'd only rented his tux, and he had to give it back as soon as he was back in the city.

"What?" Will met his gaze with a small smile, shaking his head. "Am I going to wake up to you ignoring my texts and calls for six months again? I don't think that would go over well with Jay. We both have a wedding to be a part of this weekend, and that's kind of hard to do when you're avoiding me, isn't it?"

Dropping his gaze to the carpet at his feet, he bit his tongue and took a slow, deep breath. "You took up a lot of that bed just sitting on it. Is there going to be any room for me? Or are you going to go down the hall and borrow someone's couch?"

"Mouse, if this is because I didn't sleep with you-"

"You didn't even want to breathe the same air as me. It was a little offensive. But you did help prove my point, so thanks for that."

"You were drunk."

"That didn't sway you when we were making out in your kitchen."

"I made a poor decision. Those are allowed every once in a while. I changed my mind when the situation changed."

"Right, my bad." Standing up, Mouse grabbed his helmet with a frown and avoided looking over toward the bed. "You were fine with it until I reminded you that I'm just your brother's whore of a best friend. And then the idea of touching me became the worst idea ever. Fuck this. I'll get a room down the street. And don't worry about planning for me at the bachelor party. I'll make sure I stay far away from you."

"Mouse, wait a minute-"

"Why?" He stopped halfway to the door again, trying to hide how his hands shook. "It isn't enough to make me feel like ass. You have to keep rubbing it in? Can't I just leave without you drawing it out? Do you really hate me that much?"

The quiet that fell between them came on suddenly, and lingered for longer than it needed to. Mouse had plenty of time to flee, and he almost did, except he felt frozen in place. His feet wouldn't move, no matter how much he tried to order them otherwise. It meant he was standing in the exact same spot when Will finally spoke up, keeping his face carefully blank. He was good at that, not showing everything he felt. Practice had made it easy.

"Because... I know what it's like. To have someone have sex with you when they don't actually want you."

"Yeah, whatever, I heard about the failed wedding to Natalie. That's not really the same thing."

"I'm not talking about Natalie. I'm talking about the boyfriend I had in college."

That was almost enough to make him drop the bag in some kind of shock. It would be rude, but that didn't mean it didn't almost happen. After hearing about girlfriends like Nina and Natalie and Hannah, the idea of Will Halstead being in any kind of relationship with another man didn't cross his mind. After the night that ended in rejection, Mouse pointedly made sure he didn't think about anything close. A college boyfriend was further out of left field than a foul home run.

"Excuse me?"

"His name was Matt." Will let out a slow breath and looked down at his hands, his voice low. It sounded as careful and controlled as Mouse was desperate for, and it made him stay quiet so that he could just listen. "It was the first time I was ever with a guy. I met him at a party, and I was... pretty drunk, actually."

Slowly, Mouse lowered his bag to the floor again and bit the inside of his cheek while he frowned. "Like... two shots, four beers, and whatever the drink was that Adam bought us a round of drunk?"

"Not quite. More like... my first two beers ever drunk. And I let him convince me to go upstairs to his room. And it was... not great. But it was my first time, right? I thought it was going to get better the more we did it. It didn't. But, hey, at least someone wanted me."

Will finally looked up at him again when he took a small step toward the bed. He wasn't ready to close the space completely, especially when there was so little space to begin with. It was too soon, even if he could read the tone of the room, and nothing between them was actually fixed. He still wanted to run, wanted to get on his bike and go all the way back to Chicago, or further, and rushing whatever this was wouldn't make that urge any easier to ignore.

"And then what? He said your mom's name in bed?"

"Actually, he proposed to my cousin." The words were said with a small smirk, and Will actually met his gaze again as evenly as ever. It almost felt like any other conversation they'd had before the night of the engagement party, easy and natural. "And the worst part is, I was still letting him fuck me every weekend. I knew he was a piece of shit who didn't want me, and I still put myself through that regularly. And I felt worse about it every time. And I didn't even enjoy it. So, no, Mouse, I don't hate you. I just don't think that anyone should ever have to feel like that."

Mouse was the one who looked away, then, staring down at the shoes on his feet with a frown. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was like his body didn't let him. His lungs didn't want to fill up all the way, and the air stopped halfway down his throat, and he was trying to hide how much it physically hurt to stand there and listen to a story that cut into him so deeply. It hurt because he'd been there, because he knew exactly why someone would give, and give, and give, even at the cost of themselves, just to feel like they were wanted for a night or two.

He moved slowly, added his helmet back to his pile of things and toeing out of his shoes. There was no way he would be getting in bed yet, not when the floor looked perfectly comfortable from where he was standing, but he didn't really want to leave. Whether Will wanted to have sex with him or not, there were very few times when he actually wanted to leave someone. That was a habit of self preservation. Leaving hurt less than being pushed out.

"I, uh... I threw up."

Looking up from what he was doing, Mouse didn't look at Will directly while he shook his head. He didn't want to think about that weekend at all, let alone talk about it. It was something that only came up in his nightmares, especially when he pulled back from his usual weekly activities like alcohol and casual sex. Still, he forced himself to continue. If Will was going to open up to him, he should do a little bit in return, and building on what he'd already let slip was the safest way to do that without ripping open even more wounds.

"In Atlanta. He got off, I didn't. So, I excused myself to the bathroom to hide, and I threw up. And then... he was done with me, so I left. I took the hottest shower the plumbing would let me have, and... I threw up again. And I didn't sleep that night."

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets just to have something to do with them, and his fingers were shaking too much to let them stay visible. His reputation was to sleep around and not care about any of it. Countless nights had been spent in countless beds, and he had fun. He enjoyed every second of it. Thinking about it for too long didn't make him feel sick, or like he wanted to cry, or like he wished that Jay had never shown up at his apartment on that cold November night. Sex was fun, and exciting, and took him higher than any opioid ever had.

He just had to ignore how much harder he crashed back down.

Will was quiet for a long moment, seeming to wait in case he wanted to say anything else. He didn't, but he appreciated the few extra seconds to gather his thoughts. There wasn't anything else to say. The experience had lasted less than a night, and he had shared every detail of it worth forgetting. And then the quiet lasted almost too long before Will dared to finally break it.

“If you still want to leave, I can cover the room for you. You were promised a free weekend in a hotel. It seems unfair to make you pay for it just because this hotel is overbooked.”

With a weak smile that appeared no matter how hard he tried to bite it back, Mouse slowly shook his head. He could survive being a little uncomfortable for a weekend. He was there for Jay’s big day, and it would be rude to make it about himself. “That seems a little silly, now, doesn’t it? No, I’ll stay. That chair seemed pretty comfortable, and I’ve slept in worse positions. Don’t go out of your way for me.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Will stood up slowly, just enough to move his laptop and the papers that went with it to a surface that wasn’t the bed. He turned to look at Mouse, after that, confusion clear in the eyes that swept over him. “No. You’re not sleeping in the chair. I didn’t offer to share a room with you just so you could sleep in a desk chair. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mouse blinked at him and frowned at the words. Nothing had been said to him about an offer to share the tiny room. The way Jay explained it, it seemed more like they were the last two who didn’t come with a built in group of friends to bunk with.

“If I take the bed, where are you going to sleep?”

“I know you’re an only child, but there’s this thing the rest of us learned when we were three called sharing.”

He frowned at the hint of sarcasm in the words, though it probably lost a lot of its conviction when his eyes landed on the teasing smile. Mouse was reminded, ever so suddenly, that he was in a room with a Halstead. There were plenty of differences between the brothers, but a lot of their expressions were the same. That smirk, with the fond look that went with it, was not unfamiliar to him after spending so many years in Jay’s life. It was a warm thing, something that made him feel closer to home than anything had in years.

“I kind of packed to spend the weekend alone. And I had to travel light because I can’t really carry a lot on my bike.” Mouse shook his head and desperately tried to keep his frown in place. “I don’t have anything to sleep in. Just my underwear. Isn’t that gonna be a little…?”

Will, in his mostly modest shirt and sweatpants, scoffed and shook his head quickly. “Mouse, I’ve felt your dick on my thigh. I can be an adult about you taking your shirt off if you can.”

He bit down on his lip to keep from making an instinctive comment. Something about how his dick had been on Will's thigh, but it would feel even better somewhere else, probably. It wouldn't make the weekend easier if he kept deflecting the conversation away from anything of substance. Sexual jokes and suggestive comments and speaking only in innuendo hadn't actually gotten him that far with one Halstead, and he doubted it would do anything to help his relationship with this one.

"Okay. But if, at any point, you feel weird about it-"

"Mouse," Will's voice was steady and calm, everything Mouse wasn't feeling in that moment, and the tone made him feel like he couldn't look away no matter how hard he tried. "I will give you a treat, if you just lay down and go to sleep."

What kind of treat?

The question had to be bit back just like everything else, some defense mechanism turned instinct nearly stronger than him. He could behave, for a weekend, and not make things between them any weirder than they already were. He could survive three nights without sticking his foot in his mouth, surely.

"A... treat? Will, I'm not a dog."

"I'm not going to comment on that one. Take your clothes off and get comfortable."

"Wow..."

"You know what I mean." Will narrowed his eyes at him and quickly shook his head. "I have an extra pair of sweats in my bag if you want something to wear. They might be a little long, but they're soft."

Mouse opened his mouth to respond and closed it again when he realized he didn't know what he even could say in that moment. He was still stunned by the revelation that sharing the room was an intentional choice instead of a result of bad luck. The idea of getting to wear something that didn't belong to him, intentionally, instead of just grabbing the wrong shirt off the floor, had stopped all of his thoughts in their tracks. Something was going to be willingly loaned to him, something that would smell like someone else, something that would be soft. That had never happened before.

"Oh... yeah, okay."

He was too dazed to do much more than obey. He let Will get up and get into his bag, pulling out the pants and holding them up where they could be seen. Mouse really wanted to accept the offer, and he told himself it was only because he hadn’t even been in the position to swipe the wrong shirt in the morning for months. He was allowed to want proof that another person had wanted to be near to him, even if it was only for a night.

He almost felt silly, going into the small bathroom to change. Sure, he’d stripped down to his underwear, but it was only long enough to pull on the borrowed pair of pants. He felt even sillier walking out, the waistband folded down twice, because they really were long, likely because of the near half a foot Will had on him when it came to their height.

He felt like a little kid, dressed up as something he wasn’t, and he tried to keep that feeling off of his face.

Climbing into bed under the blankets, Mouse stayed as close to the edge of the mattress as he could. More space between them meant there was less of a chance that something would happen. He wanted to make sure there was as much space between them as possible, so he could leave Wisconsin at the end of the weekend without embarrassing himself further.

The blankets were very still for a moment, the only sound in the room the offset patterns of their breathing. He'd failed at preventing the awkwardness between them, that much was clear, but he didn't know how to fix it. Luckily, it seemed like he didn't have to, not when Will was going to be the one to break the silence for him.

"About that treat... you know that college boyfriend I mentioned?"

Mouse frowned a bit in confusion at the sudden shift in mood, and did his best to shrug his shoulders in the position he was in. It wasn't like it had been that long since they'd discussed it, if it had really been a discussion at all. It was all still fresh, and he almost gritted his teeth at the reminder that Matt existed at all. He'd known the Halsteads for long enough that he could barely remember a time when he didn't. If there was anyone who deserved that kind of treatment less than Will, he didn't know them. "Yeah? What about him?"

"Well..." The bed shifted with the movement of the body behind him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of it. They weren't touching, not when he was so stiff where he was on the very edge of the mattress, and he trusted that Will wouldn't force anything. That was something most people understood after knowing him for a couple hours, let alone more than a decade. "He was working at Med, for a while. They hired him on after I, you know, got fired."

"I heard about that." He stayed on his side and took a slow breath. There hadn't been any details given to him when Jay had mentioned it, just the direction to go easy on him if Will showed up at Molly's that first weekend he was back. He did, but their conversation hadn't lasted long enough for the topic to come up. In the months since, Mouse had almost forgotten about it entirely. "Not about Matt, but about the getting fired thing. I didn't hear how it happened, but that kind of thing always sucks. How are you doing with that?"

"I'm working at Med again, that's actually where this starts. I went back to working there with the condition that I would keep an eye on Matt and what he was doing. That was... actually the FBI investigation I've been helping with. I helped get evidence of him taking kickbacks from a medtech company, and all the deaths that resulted from their product because they were cutting corners and pushing it when it wasn't necessary... but. That's where Matt is, now. Rotting in some federal prison. And I got a reward check for helping to put him there."

"Good." Mouse felt himself actually relax at the idea that someone like that was getting what he deserved. It was for something unrelated to being a bad partner, but it was still comeuppance. It was still justice, in its own way. "I hope he stays there. You didn't deserve anything that he did to you. A life in prison is the absolute least he deserves after all of that."

The quiet that fell between them wasn't as tense as it had been before. When the bed shifted again, Mouse stayed relaxed and comfortable. Even if he was still worried about things potentially being awkward, they'd moved past the worst of it, and things almost felt easy again. It was progress.

"I think you hated me when we met." Will's voice was quiet, not a whisper, but low, careful. He said it like a truth he'd never admitted before, and Mouse tried to cling to it as if that changed the truth of the words. "You barely looked at me, and you didn't even shake my hand when Jay introduced us. Now, you're defending me against an ex who doesn't even pose a threat to me anymore."

"You'd moved to New York and didn't come home when Jay needed you." Mouse's tone matched Will's, steady and careful and low when the quiet of the rest of the room meant that it would carry. "You hurt my best friend. Of course I hated you. You've grown on me, since then. Even if I did still hate you, which I don't, obviously, I wouldn't wish that kind of relationship on anybody."

"Right..."

The quiet lasted so long that Mouse almost thought he'd fallen asleep. It wouldn't have been awful, laying awake in the peaceful kind of dim lighting and the hum of the air conditioner under the window. He could have laid there for hours, with his eyes closed but his mind awake, and he wouldn't have regretted a single moment of it. The bed was warm and comfortable, and the company wasn't bad. Of all the people he could have shared a room with that weekend, he didn't think there were any better options.

After a few minutes, it was clear he wasn't the only one still awake. The sound of Will's voice wasn't startling, and the gentle press of fingers to Mouse's bare back was even lighter than he expected it to be. It was brief, barely more than a brush of skin against his own, but he felt it, and he couldn't remember the last time he didn't flinch when someone was that close.

"Look, I know Jay said you're not super into touching, or anything, but..."

"What do you need?" The question was almost instinct. The Halstead family was made up of huggers, something that Mouse had learned to live with over the years. Sometimes, they needed more than he was used to giving, and he adapted to that. He liked to be useful. Being useful meant he would get to stick around longer. If that required adapting and sacrificing his comfort for a hug or two a year, then so be it.

"I kind of want to hug you, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable. If you don't feel up for it, I'm not going to push."

"Will, I can handle a-"

"I don't want you to handle it, Mouse. I'm a grown adult. I can manage not getting a hug if that's not something you're able to give right now. It's been a long day. It would be completely reasonable to tell me to fuck off so you can sleep."

With a frown, Mouse shifted so he could partially hide his face in the pillow under it, as if he wasn't already turned away. His needs and wants were never taken into consideration, not when someone else needed him. That applied no matter how long his days were, or how exhausted he was, or how overwhelmed a situation made him. Will had been talking about the worst relationship he'd ever been in, and discussions like that usually called for some kind of comfort. A hug was a reasonable request. Weighing his own comfort level with that was an entirely new concept.

"Uh..." He trailed off and licked his lips when they felt dry, breathing in through his nose slowly. Once he could actually find his voice again, Mouse gave a short nod of his head. "I think I'm good. I'm a little stressed, because of the whole weekend, and the sharing the room thing, but a hug should be fine. I'll let you know if it's too much. I might not be very receptive, but... go ahead."

The touch returned to his back, feather light and careful, and Mouse had to bite down on his tongue to keep from shivering. With his eyes closed, it almost felt like most other nights he shared a bed. It wouldn’t end the same way, but the touch moved over his skin in a way that felt familiar. At least, it was just familiar enough that he didn't pull away. He wasn't entirely comfortable, but discomfort was a baseline that he had resigned himself to.

When Will's hand settled, it was the same kind of barely there touch, a palm and fingers spreading out over his bare abdomen. It was warm, like everything else, and Mouse squeezed his eyes shut tighter. When Will gently guided him back, he went willingly, until his back was pressed to the soft fabric of a well worn tee and the chest within in. He didn't breathe, he couldn't remember how, and instinct made him prepare for the touch to wander, prepare to give up whatever his partner of the night wanted.

It didn't.

Will's hand didn't move.

He just... held him there. Gently.

Since when was being held supposed to feel good?

Mouse hesitated before shifting some of his weight and, when he lifted his head to adjust how it rested on the pillow, an arm slid into the space to cushion it instead. For a few moments, he let the muscle and flesh act as a pillow without complaint, the warmth of another body so close the soothing kind of familiar that made it easy to relax. Jay had been right when he'd warned Will about Mouse being wary of touch. There were very few occasions where he allowed it at all, and it was something that his best friend only halfheartedly complained about. Usually, it meant no hugs, very few supportive pats to the back, nothing that the Halstead family did regularly. It threw off a normally regular rhythm in the lives of the people around him, but physical affection just wasn't something he was used to.

Growing up, an arm around his shoulders was an act. A hand ruffling his hair was dismissive. A kiss to his cheek when he was too young to leave his mother's side at fundraisers was something for the cameras. Physical affection wasn't real. It was just a way for his family to pretend that they cared, that they weren't capable of kicking him out of their lives the second he did something to disrupt all of their plans for his life.

This felt different.

Maybe it was because it was a Halstead. He'd never doubted that Jay cared about him, especially not when he was pulled into a hug in the middle of Molly's during his goodbye party. He knew that every supportive pat on the back or shoulder was genuine. He was fairly certain that Jay didn't know how to be fake. He'd make the same assumption about Will, but he was starting to learn that there were parts of him that no one got to see.

Shifting again, Mouse settled in closer and focused on his breathing. He wasn't uncomfortable, not really, but the feeling of someone else so close usually came with expectations. He was fighting the urge to roll over and offer himself up, to casually squirm until the sweats slid down off his hips and left more of him bare. But if there was one person in the world who didn't want him to do something like that, it was the person he was stuck with for the weekend.

"Can I ask you something?"

Will's voice was startlingly close, his breath stirring up the ends of his hair before it reached his ear. It was enough to make him tense up, and the arm already loose around him immediately gave him more room to move. He was still being held, but it would be easy to pull away when he wanted to, whenever that ended up being. Unable to find his voice right away, Mouse gave a slow nod of his head.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Still all but whispering, Will let out a slow breath - this time very pointedly aiming away from Mouse when he did so. "I'm just curious. About Atlanta... Did you know? About his ex?"

Mouse took a deep breath at the mention of the memory, and the hand at his abdomen started to pull away slowly. He didn't know where it came from, the foreign instinct to reach down and grab onto the hand before it could get too far. He even laced their fingers together, holding on as tightly as he dared while he kept his eyes closed. "I found out at the same point of the story that you did. So, the short answer? No. I didn't know."

The hold on him got tighter again, and he could feel the pressure that came from a face being tucked into his shoulder. It was a position that was as familiar as most other things about that moment. And he was still struggling with all the things that weren't as familiar.

"You're holding on pretty tight for someone who doesn't like to be touched."

"Please don't leave me alone again."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter Three

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: none, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

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Mia marvelled out the car window at the house. The pictures didn't do it justice. 

It was Tudor style; the white-washed daub between the timber frames, steeply pitched gables, and thatched roof made it easy to distinguish between that and other periods. Brick and pipe chimneys smoked merrily. The casement window glass gleamed with shine and a fresh coat of white paint. 

Two years of Covid and a subscription to Home and Garden Television, along with Tubi and their shows on restoration projects across the UK, apparently imparted lessons that were paying off. 

The door was kelly green with a white climbing rose clinging to the wall. The plant crossed the lintel and spanned the area above the house's main floor windows. Someone had taken great care of the garden, for flowers bloomed in veritable heaps of colour below every window before the well-kept yard spread out in a wash of lush green lawn, meticulously mowed. 

Trees surrounded the property, but she could make out more buildings farther into the grounds, though Jacob - her driver - pulled up in front of the cobblestone path that led from the raked gravel drive to the door. 

"It's bigger than I thought," Mia murmured, allowing him to get the door and her to step outside. The house was triple the size of anything she could afford back in Canada.

The fresh air was crisp and clean, and the sun peeking through the clouds was lovely. She stood and basked, eyes closed, taking it in momentarily before moving away from the car. 

She couldn't help but smile at the unique roof and the fancy thatching. After hours of devouring the shows on home restoration for period properties, she had enormous respect for the men and women who could accomplish such an incredible craft. It was truly remarkable that, after hundreds of years, such material and labour were still used today. 

Before she could touch the doorknob, already in love with the door's colour, it swung open to reveal a short, stout woman wearing a frilly apron. Her hair was flaming red, her eyes emerald green, but her cast of wrinkles bespoke her age. Still, her smile was wide and welcoming, if a little guarded. 

“Camila MacAlasdair?”

"Mia, please," she smiled and held out her hand. "Mrs. Bailey?"

"Ock, we don't shake the hands of family," she huffed, grabbing Mia's wrist and hauling her forward into a hug that should have come from someone the size of Fergus. "Yer wee gran would 'ave taken one look at ye and known ye were Callum's girl. Ye've yer da's eyes."

Mia leaned into the hug - though leaned down was more accurate. "You knew them well?"

"I've been keeping house for yer grandparents since yer da was a wee lad. It was a shame what happened with yer mum. A true shame. Would that they had lived to see ye and tell ye all this themselves." 

Grief tugged at Mia's heart for her lost family. "Yeah."

"Bah!" Mrs. Bailey set her back and lightly patted Mia's arms. "Here I am holdin' ye in the door like an eejit when yer probably puggled. Let's get ye a scran and settled 'afor I go talkin' yer ear off." 

The woman turned on her heel and set off into the house.

"Puggled?" Mia murmured to Jacob, arriving with the first of her bags. 

"She means tired," chuckled the very British Jacob. 

With the thicker accents of the Scots she'd spent the last week with, it was a shock to have Jacob greet her in a voice that reminded her of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. 

He'd been kind enough to help her decipher a few of Fergus and Ivy's more colourful sayings. 

Your head's full of mince was one of them. Your bum's out the window was another.

"Ah," Mia nodded, wondering if there was an app for deciphering Scottish - and British - English as even Jacob caused her to blink in confusion when he asked if she were 'taking the piss' and had to explain himself. 

She would see about that later. Fergus gifted her a fancy new phone with what he termed better encryption and security. It was also already attached to her household expenses and ran on the nation's phone service.

Mia stepped beyond the threshold and bit her cheek to keep her jaw from dropping. The low-beam ceiling was spectacular! 

Dark wood separated by white dab spanned the spaces between beams that looked like entire trees held up the ceiling. The wood flooring had planks that were so wide they, too, looked like they came from a whole tree. The rich dark brown of the well-loved wood made the house feel so warm.

She stepped into a kitchen right out of a fairytale. 

Expansive windows threw light across the floor, reflected off the pans hanging above the antique stove and glinted on cut crystal vases filled with sweet-smelling flowers. Pots of fresh herbs sat in the window sills. Butcher block countertops ran the length of all the cabinets and covered the island. 

An enormous fireplace occupied one wall, but a pot belly stove sat in the center, glowing a merry orange with the cheerfully burning fire. The mantel was another massive piece of timber, upon which sat a host of - what Mia assumed were - ancient kitchen utensils. They looked neat, some dull or rusted with age, while others carried a dark patina and still more shone with copper. 

Before the fire, a round rug of burgundy and cream anchored two forest green wingback chairs with a small round table between them. It was of caramel-coloured wood, the top a little scarred with age, but it held a tea tray with the most gorgeous bone china tea service Mia had ever seen. 

The white china fairly blazed against the dark backdrop, while the purple thistle and green leaves caressed the curves of the china with delicate brush strokes. 

A small but fancy chandelier hung over the sink, but recessed pot lights covered the ceiling and would likely add to the warm glow at night, though they weren't currently on.

Mrs. Bailey poked a few mounds of dough back down at the island into their bowls before covering them with sunny yellow tea towels.

"Is that bread?"

"Aye. I always make bread on Mondays." There was something in how she said it, almost as if she challenged Mia to say something contrary.

Mia toed her shoes off beside the door and drifted closer. "I always wanted to learn, but Colt said it was a waste of time."

Mrs. Bailey's sharp eyes jumped to her face and the bruises she attempted to tone down. It wasn't easy to hide, not without also covering her freckles, and Mia didn't want to do that anymore. 

"Ye've quite the keeker. I've some salve to help if ye want it."

"Did you make that too?"

Mrs. Bailey burst out laughing. "Naw! I'm a baker and a cook, alright, but I'm naw chemist."

Mia grinned. "I'd love to try the salve. I'm not sure which is worse, the black when it was fresh or the sickly yellow-green it is now."

Mrs. Bailey's brows drew together, and thunder filled her face. "The bloke who did it, he gonna be a problem?"

Mia snorted. "No. I left him in Canada, and he has no idea I'm here."

Her face cleared. "Good. Would've given 'im a good hard smack with a pan for laying hands on a lady."

Mia laughed. "No one has ever called me a lady."

"Yer lady of this house now, so expect to hear it." Again, there was tension behind the words.

Mia wasn't always the best at social cues in the fancy circles Colt aspired to. Still, after years in the foster system, not that she'd lived in any genuinely horrible situations, she'd learned to read people and the tension in their bodies reasonably well. 

Only one of her homes was a bad place where the father drank excessively. He never touched any of the kids under his care, but he often yelled, smashed things, and made threats. She learned quickly to go to her room and stay out of his way.

So when Mrs. Bailey's brows pulled together in worry, and she picked at a crusty bit of dough on the island, Mia attempted to put two and two together. 

"You know, I was thrilled when Fergus told me the house and the people associated with it were taken care of," she said, attempting to appear like she was admiring the pots hanging over the stove and not about to freak out. "I don't know the first thing about a place like this other than it's gorgeous, and I still can't believe I get to stay here. I wouldn't want people to think I would come here and make crazy changes, like fire everyone. It's not in my nature, and honestly, after the last few years, I'm just happy to have a home."

The last came out a bit of a hoarse whisper as surprise tears seared her nose and throat. 

"Ye've had a time of it, haven't ye, Mia?"

She made the mistake of glancing at Mrs. Bailey, compassion in every line of her face, and broke down in tears. 

"There now." The older woman enveloped Mia in a hug and rubbed her back. "Been a hard road, but yer here now. And we look after our own. Ye have yerself a wee greet. Then I'll show ye the house and put the tea on."

Mia sniffled. "Does tea include fresh bread?"

Mrs. Bailey chuckled. "Of course!"

Mia hugged her tight. "Excellent."

~

The house was a dream. 

All the times Mia watched someone restore their period home on television, she'd sighed in longing. However, after the first time she pointed out how gorgeous the craftsmanship of those older buildings was, even the restored barns, Colt snorted in contempt and called them filthy she hadn't brought it up to him again. 

Laying on her back on a beautiful wide bed with a thick white duvet, Mia stared at the crisscrossed ceiling and let the tears come. 

She'd been so blind to Colt's faults, so desperate for love and affection after being alone most of her life that she ignored his red flags. Some, she even turned around and placed on herself as her faults. She'd accepted blame and tried to change herself when he was in the wrong.

Tears dripped down her cheeks, but they didn't last long. She cried for broken dreams and lost love, but she wasn't cynical enough to believe that would be the end for her. Mia would love again, but she'd learned tough lessons and would guard her heart with higher walls next time. 

For now, she would put Colt behind her and move on with her life. It was here, it was new, and though it was a little scary, it was also exciting. 

She sat up, wiped her face, and took in the sun-drenched bedroom. A fire burned in a beautiful iron grate in a modest fireplace between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Cream club chairs offered a welcome seat to soak in the view or the heat. Antique dressers now held the clothing she purchased, as did the pair of wardrobes. And, of course, the same stunning floor of overly wide wooden planks felt like they'd been polished smooth with literal generations of feet. 

Off the bedroom was a bathroom straight out of a fantasy novel. A clawfoot tub sat on a riser within the confines of an alcove beneath a large octagonal window. The plank flooring gave way to large slate tiles, slightly misshapen, clearly hand-hewn. Again, it felt polished beneath Mia's feet. 

A double sink sat in a vanity that looked like an antique dresser, while the mirror above appeared hand-carved or made from the bones of old crown moulding. It was magnificent, with the small wall sconces glowing on either end. 

In virtually every room, some potted plant or vase full of flowers added greenery to the space, and her bathroom was no different. 

She wasn't sure what the leafy plant on the sink was called, but she was determined to learn how to care for them and help out. 

As Mrs. Bailey - first name Cora - showed her around through receiving rooms, drawing rooms, her late grandfather's study, the dining room, and five guest rooms, she introduced Mia to Oliva and Skye. The young women helped with the housework, general cleaning, laundry, and the like. 

Cora explained the two women had received the items shipped from Edinburgh, found the boxes with her clothing, and unpacked them into the master bedroom. 

It felt a little weird moving into what once was her grandparents' space, but Cora assured her the mattress and bedding were new, changed out when they learned she would be coming to stay. Her grandparents' clothing and the like were stored in the attic until she decided what she wanted to do with it. They had yet to bother with the rest of the house, as Mia could add or edit as she pleased. 

So far, Mia was under the impression that her grandparents had impeccable taste. The antiques were glorious and well cared for. What brick-a-brack she saw seemed well chosen and possibly of value. Clearly, her grandmother had a thing for Waterford Crystal, not that Mia blamed her. 

Her grandfather - apparently - carved and painted wooden ducks. The gorgeous creatures were lovingly displayed in his former office, riding the plate rail that ran the room's circumference. 

They had stored her art supplies, works in progress, and finished paintings there. 

Mia vaguely wondered if that was where her talent came from before Cora shooed her along, talking about how the house was fully renovated right before Covid hit, keeping the old world charm while modernizing things like the insulation, the lighting, wiring, plumbing, heat and air. 

She could only imagine the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent modernizing the house while retaining its classic look and feel. 

The house tour ended in one parlour where another potbelly stove glowed brightly beside a burgundy velvet sofa. Skye was there with the tea tray, Olivia a step behind with another of fresh bread, preserves, and a crock of whipped butter. 

Mia intended to invite the women to stay, but Cora shooed them out, sat with a thump on the couch, and made to pour the tea, but Mia beat her to it. 

She wasn't much for superstitions, but her mother always laughed and said, 'the lady of the house poured the tea unless she wanted to end up enceinte.' Mia was eight when she finally asked what the word meant, but she never forgot the way her mother laughed and explained about the silly old wives' tale. Still, it was one of the weird things that stuck in her brain and arose at odd times. Like now, when she realized this was her house. She owned it, lock, stock, and barrel. 

It made her hyperventilate a little. 

Then, as she handed Cora a delicate tea cup, the woman bluntly asked how she got the black eye. 

It surprised Mia, but she told Cora the truth. When an ocean separated them, there was no point in lying to save face or protect Colt. But, as Cora poked a little at still raw feelings, Mia felt the fresh prickle of tears. 

It was only a week—seven days from losing everything to gaining everything. 

Cora made a displeased sound with her tongue and changed the subject, but the thunderous set of her brows said if she ever met Colt, he might become intimately acquainted with one of the cook's larger frying pans. 

She asked instead about Mia's art, and happy to talk to someone about her joy, Mia ate three slices of bread, liberally spread with butter and jam, drank two cups of really lovely tea, and nattered on about what she did and why. She thought it might bore the woman, but Cora's eyes were excitedly bright, though a bit of confusion lingered.  

"Well, ye've all the time in the world to paint now, love," Cora grinned. "Yer grandad had a woodworking shop near the barn that might suit ye if we clean it out."

The idea of it excited her when Cora encouraged her to have a walk around, but Mia returned upstairs to change first. It was roughly six degrees Celsius, and coming out of a Canadian winter when minus forty wasn't unheard of, six degrees was relatively balmy, but Scotland was damp in comparison. Mia learned quickly that you could get rained on at any time. 

Thus, she'd ended up sprawled across the bed, staring at the ceiling, attempting to adjust to the metamorphosis her life went through in a short amount of time. 

Quiet laughter echoed in her head, and she closed her eyes as the gentle touch of a caring hand danced across her forehead. 

Loki was patiently waiting for her to unpack his things. 

Smiling, Mia looked around the room. The dresser across from the foot of her bed was long and low with a vase of fresh flowers but otherwise empty. 

It took very little time to unpack and cleanse the altar and set everything back as it should be. Once finished, Mia admired her handiwork before rummaging through the bags brought up by the maids. A few pretty crystals and a pewter bowl joined her collection, as did two silver candlesticks meant for fat pillar candles. She bought two in vanilla, two in citrus, and two with a cinnamon kick.

For now, she placed the cinnamon-scented ones in the holders, and the others remained wrapped in tissue paper she tucked into a drawer. 

Loki hummed his pleasure, the warmth of it like the summer sun glowing in her chest. 

"I'm glad you like it. Thank you for leading me here."

Here is where you belong.

Mia grinned. Yeah, she felt that, too.

Next Chapter

[madandi]

From The Times

article about the new song: "Thank you mother"

At 16 Amy Nuttall became the youngest understudy for the lead role of Christine in The Phantom of the Opera, then a year later she joined the ITV soap Emmerdale and stayed for five years. The Lancashire-born actress has since appeared in Hotel Babylon, Downton Abbey, Death in Paradise and, most recently, Mr Bates vs the Post Office. On stage she has been in My Fair Lady, Boeing-Boeing, Cabaret and Spamalot. Now 41, Nuttall is married to the actor Andrew Buchan. They live with their nine-year-old daughter and five-year-old son in Buckinghamshire.

How much is in your wallet?

No one carries cash now — everything is cashless. I did get caught short last year when my daughter lost a tooth unexpectedly. I had no money for the tooth fairy. Luckily my neighbour came to the rescue but now I always make sure I have pound coins in my wallet. Apart from that, all I have is my driver’s licence, Tesco Clubcard, Boots card, Caffè Nero stamp card and my debit card.

What credit cards do you use?

I don’t own any. When I joined Emmerdale I came home to visit my parents and for some reason I’d got myself a credit card and I was telling my dad about it and he made me get it out, got a pair of scissors and said, “Right, I want you to cut it up in front of me. Take my advice. Do not go down that road.” And it’s just stuck with me. I’ve never had one since. I think my dad knew that it would basically give me the opportunity to spend money I didn’t have, so I think it was very wise advice.

Are you a saver or a spender?

I’d love to say I’m a saver. I think I started out really well but I have become a bit of a spender. It’s mainly on my children. When I started out, aged 16, touring in The Phantom of the Opera, my first pay cheque was £500 a week, which was an absolute fortune for someone that age. I remember we were rehearsing in London before we went on tour, and I needed some new trainers, so I went to Schuh in Covent Garden. And I’ve never forgotten that feeling of buying my own trainers with my own money — and still having money in my account. After that I barely spent a penny, other than on accommodation and food. I don’t know where that girl went, as I really enjoy spending now. Back then I was very cautious. I just wish I’d had the foresight to put that money into property.

How much did you earn last year?

I’m an actress, self-employed, so it varies substantially from year to year. Sometimes I get surprise emails from my agent about royalties, saying, “Downton Abbey has been sold to this country,” or whatever, and they’re always nice little happy surprises. But generally speaking, in the last financial year — what can I tell you? — below a hundred grand, but I’m married so it all goes into one pot. So it’s not as scary because I can lean on that. People may have thought that being in Downtown Abbey meant I could put my rates up, but it’s really not the case. I always seem to land jobs where they tell you there isn’t any money in the pot. And then you find out who the lead is and you think, ah, all the money is going to that person. So it’s really not as lucrative as people perceive.

I sing too. I recently released a song called Thank You Mother, to raise money for the Brain Tumour Charity. That won’t see any personal return, but that’s fine as I want all the money to go to the charity. Overall I’m used to not knowing how things will be financially. It’s that excitement of not knowing what’s around the corner — maybe that big job with lots of money is going to turn up. That hasn’t happened yet, but you never know.

Have you ever been really hard up?

I started off well with Phantom and then Emmerdale, but when I was 22 I left and moved to London. Soon after I bought my first property in Ladbroke Grove [west London] but stupidly bought one that I was unable to sublet. I’d really stretched myself to the limit to buy it and I was relying on being in work to pay my mortgage and bills. I was the lead in Cabaret in the West End at the time, but it was a massive drop in earnings after Emmerdale and I just couldn’t cover everything, so I had to put the flat on the market. I had to move out a week after I finished Cabaret and rent a room in a flat and put all my furniture into storage. It was devastating.

Do you own a property?

I’m the joint owner of our comfortable family home in Buckinghamshire. We owned a smaller house before.

Are you better off than your parents?

I’d say my dad is probably better off than me. He recently retired but he was a criminal barrister and a judge. I have no idea how much money he earned but he was always extremely cautious and never spent money on five-star hotels. My mum was a hairdresser when they met and then did interior design for a while. Things were comfortable and my dad paid for all three of us to have a private secondary education.

Do you invest in shares?

I don’t and it’s not something I’ve ever thought about. I don’t know enough about it.

What is better for retirement, property or pension?

A bit of both. It probably changes from year to year but I think it would be safer to have a bit of property, a bit of pension.

What has been your best investment?

My house, my health and my children — not in that order.

And the worst?

I’ve not really made any great investments but I can’t think of anything that has been significantly bad either.

The most extravagant thing you’ve bought?

I bought my mum a Louis Vuitton bag because she did everything for my wedding. I just turned up on the day, which was great. I wasn’t particularly interested in doing it — she did it all. So I bought her a beautiful cream Louis Vuitton handbag, which cost about £2,000, which is an insane amount of money.

What is your money weakness?

Food, probably. I’m quite lazy, especially with the grim weather we’ve had lately. I just want to get out of the house and go to a cosy café to eat stuff I could easily make at home. My other weakness is [the homeware store] Homesense — I’m an absolute sucker for kitchen paraphernalia. Whether it’s another teapot or candle I don’t need, I’m there.

What is your financial priority?

My children. We’re a way off secondary school yet, though, so we’ll see what happens.

What would you do if you won the lottery?

First, I wouldn’t broadcast it. I’d share it among family, and I’d love to have the luxury of giving away a chunk of money to the Brain Tumour Charity. If there was any left to spoil myself, I’d love to be mortgage-free. I’d love a big house in the country with an Aga and a dog, and a holiday home in Tuscany. That would be lovely.

Do you support any charities?

I’m a patron of the Brain Tumour Charity — my mother passed away from a glioblastoma brain tumour in October, and I’ll be donating all the proceeds from Thank You Mother to them. It’s a song we played a lot at home in my mother’s final weeks. It was a very emotional time and the words in the song are very poignant to my relationship with my mum. I knew straight away that I had to do something to raise awareness of this terrible disease.

What is the most important lesson you’ve learnt about money?

That you never have enough, that it goes pretty quickly and that it doesn’t bring you true happiness. And like my parents said to me, “If you look after the pennies, the pounds will follow.” All proceeds from Thank You Mother by Amy Nuttall go to the Brain Tumour Charity

[regular-lord-reckoner]

since i have started this whole therapy/unmasking thing i have had the worst time getting myself to focus on work and get done what i need to get done

it’s like a switch has flipped and one minute all i ever do is work and try to get caught up on work and stay on top of everything to where now i just had to finish up what i didn’t get done during the week because i just...could not

i even the other day tried to set aside the first half of my day just so i could focus on work and get all the important stuff done, but by the time i finished all the work from yesterday that absolutely needed to be done plus the work for the next day it was almost 2 in the afternoon

still, i stopped and took a break, did a little work out, took a shower, all of that and naturally as i’m like, “see, now we can just take the rest of the day nice and easy and still get everything done without stressing” i see an email that’s like, “oh, btw everyone needs to be logged off by 6:45 pm today, IT needs to do something”

so then i had to scramble to get shit done instead of being able to take my time and ended up getting all stressed out again anyway

i’ve heard a lot of people say that while going through this process they take time off work for a while and i really wish that i could, but i just don’t know how, i already have to be a week ahead on all my charts just to take a week off, i can’t imagine how much work i’d have to do to take two weeks off or even a month

my last vacation was spent being so sick i could barely even walk so i really, really, really could use some kind of break i just feel like i haven’t even had a second to stop and think about it

and on top of that, i think my dad’s getting sicker

one of his doctors is really concerned about his test results lately and wants him to make these urgent appointments with his other doctors for next week so i guess we’ll see what comes of that, i’m hoping it doesn’t end up being, “yeah, so the cancer’s starting to win now, sorry” but we were already playing with borrowed time as is, i guess so i’m just mentally trying to prepare for that

and while all of this is just...happening, yesterday i’m sitting outside trying to enjoy a little sliver of free time, turn my brain off and just not have to think about anything, i hear my parents calling for the dog

and normally that’s not too unusual, sometimes when he’s outside he’ll run a little too far and they have to yell for him to come back, but he always does

this time, though, they just keep calling and calling and calling so i go downstairs to see what’s up and he’s missing. the dog is missing.

i’m trying to ask like, “where did he go missing, did you see him run off? front yard or backyard?” but nobody knows, he just took off while they were outside apparently 

so...awesome.

my mom’s been drinking and my dad’s too tired so i have to get in my car and drive up and down the road looking for him.

i’ve got my windows rolled down, squeaky toy out the window calling his name and trying to lure him to me to no avail

i go back to the house and we spend some more time yelling for him and walking all around the property for him, but nothing

we finally go back inside and something tells me to just check his crate. seems like a long shot, but just check it

so i do and you’ll never fucking believe what i found in there!!!

the dog!!!

the dog we just spent well over an hour looking for!!!!

the dog who was there the entire time just snug in his bed, all settled in for the night

i’m not sure who put him to bed, my dad swears up and down that he didn’t, but my mom clearly had no recognition of having done it, but someone did because i know it wasn’t me and he can’t get himself in there and close it on his own soooooooooooooooooooo

i think she probably did it and with everything going on (plus drinking, of course) she didn’t remember and as much as i’m sure i should be like...i dunno, mad about it or at the very least frustrated i just feel tired

i feel really, really, really fucking tired

everything is so fucking exhausting all the time and nothing ever stops and i just want it to fucking stop

i’m trying to basically re-learn myself and what my limits are for just existing which is so fucking hard because i feel like i don’t know anything anymore

but i think the cherry that really is sitting on top of this bitch ice cream sundae, though, is that i had made a post on facebook a week or so ago, i think, basically just like, ‘hey, i’m autistic’ and this guy i went to high school with messaged me because he just found out too a couple of years ago so did i want to be friends and i was like, “yeah, of course!”

how nice, y’know, someone who’s just been through this process sorta offering a helping hand and i’ve isolated myself pretty badly so sure, let’s make a friend!!

now, maybe i’m being unfair here because i’m clearly going through a lot but i just get the impression that this is exactly like every other time i get randomly approached by some guy i went to school with where it’s like, “hey, i’m having a tough time but you’re a woman so can you take care of me??’

because he keeps dropping all these hints like yeah, he used to have a girlfriend who was really good about helping him understand all this stuff and yeah, it’s just been kinda hard lately and now he’s just sending me videos of what i’m guessing is his kid and i’ve just completely tapped out at this point

again, maybe i’m being unfair and even outright mean, but it really does seem like every single time i’m going through something hard in my life here comes some fucking guy holding emotional baggage in one hand and a baby in the other going, “Hey, do you want to listen to me talk about myself at great lengths while skimming over the things you say and can you also take care of me? Thanks!!”

No!!!!!! I can’t!!!!!!

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can barely take care of me anymore and still have so much other shit on my plate and i have no idea when i’ll ever get a break from any of this, please stop!!!!!!!

i want connection with other people and i know that’s important and i know i should be trying to foster it as much as i possibly can whenever given the chance but i just feel right now like i’m curled into a ball on the floor screaming, “please stop!!!” and yet there are all of these hand continuously reaching out at me and pulling at me and i don’t know what else i can possibly give, i feel so fucking empty

i want to be able to pour back into other people and be fun and generous and kind and all of those amazing things and i have tried to approach this whole thing with a big smile and optimism that does not naturally occur anywhere in my being because i thought maybe if everyone saw how i hard i was trying while trying to be a good sport about it all that maybe the universe would finally give me a fucking break but no!!!

my therapist gave me the warning this week that as i continue on through this process that it’s likely going to get harder simply because the more relaxed and at peace i feel, the more my mind is going to want to go, “okay, hey so now that we’re in a safe place i have some things i’d like to go over with you”

we even discussed what potential sleep meds i might need to go on because of sleep terrors and shit like that, so like...i’m trying to be as brave as i possibly can be about it and put this shit off for the longest because i was so fucking scared of it and now that i’m finally doing it, it’s like, “hey, did you want more bad things? it seems like you want more bad things, is that right? and more responsibility? wait, did you want both or...y’know what, you can have both, how’s that?”

i hate it and i want it to stop

i just want a fucking break, that’s all i want

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Why did you elbow me? 244

Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek undercover part 54

The car accident part 29

Castle: pov  me, Martha, Lanie and Jim just got back from eating lunch while Kate had her afternoon feed. Alexis and Dave are at the apartment working on school while they eat and have some alone time. I'm sitting in Kate's room checking my emails on my phone. I notice an email I missed. It's from my agent. A production company is doing a documentary on Jerry Tyson and wants to know if me and Kate want to appear, that's a big no. Kate isn't well enough for that. Since Kate is still sleeping I sneak out of the room and talk to my mother about why the answer is no. I call, my agent on the cell phone hoping they, answer. I’m so angry but it’s not my agent's fault . No one knows Kate's in the hospital and they couldn’t say anything without the production company finding out. I let Ryan and Esposito know what is going on. I can’t help but think of the day I thought Jerry Tyson killed kate.

Beginning of flashback. …. 

Esposito: pov  Yo. Uniform, in queens just spotted that stolen red van off the apb.

Castle: pov Where?

Esposito: pov Parked outside of an abandoned industrial property.

Castle: pov Is she there? 

Ryan: pov We don't know. But an E.S.U. Team's on its way.

ESU Team leader: pov I got something -- third floor.

Castle: pov It's her.

E.S.U Team leader: pov We have a positive i.D. -- Third floor, northeast corner.

Ryan: pov How many others?

E.S.U Team leader: pov Unknown. We don't have a visual.

Esposito: pov Stay behind us. If he's in there, he's gonna gun for you first. I hear a Shotgun cocking, sounds like Beckett shouting: Castle! Wait! Get back! It's a trap! Next thing I hear is g*nshots and indistinct shouting then the gunshots stop

Castle: pov Beckett!! No!!  My voice breaking god! I can't stop sobbing. How could I have let this happen to her? Kate, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so– My phone is making a noise, I forgot I set a notification to remind me to change her ampstrip today. It needed to be changed. For some reason I decided to check the app, that is when It dawns on me her heart rate is still listed in the app. It must be a glitch because she is dead in front of me. Something inside of me is telling me to check under her shirt for her scars. They aren't there. It's not her! It's not her!

Esposito: pov how do you know it's not her Castle says  because Kate has scars on her chest from her emergency surgery and her ampstrip app  is still recording her heart rate. Ryan Who was the girl?

Ryan: pov Former drug addict, just like the others. She was reported missing last week. They found a speaker underneath the chair. It's how he was able to broadcast Beckett's voice.

Castle: pov And the weapon?

Esposito: pov Pre-aimed at the victim, triggered remotely.

Castle: pov He wanted us to watch. He wanted us to watch.

Esposito: pov You think she's still alive?

Castle: pov She's alive.

Esposito: pov How do you know?

Castle: pov Because he's not done with me yet. Plus her ampstrip is still showing her heart rate. Mother asking me a question startled me from my memory. 

End of flashback 

Castle: pov I just took 3 pictures, one of Kate's hand loaded with the Iv and other monitors, a second of her heart monitor screen and a third of her casted arm. My team was going to release a statement today since fans were starting to get concerned about me, since I haven't been online much. My tweet including the pictures was captioned with sorry for being M.i.a. for a bit Kate and her health come first. She is doing better every day, due to an ongoing police investigation which Kate was working on I can't say too much other than she broke her arm in a car accident which required surgery to set it in place, she has had some setbacks which include aspiration pneumonia and tachycardia to name a few. More updates from me soon, I also ask for privacy during this time. 

The sound of Kate waking up and trying to reach for my hand causes me to hit a bunch of keys on my phone ? ^[>,^ /[ #@_ ,[ thankfully it didn't send. I decided to add at the end from Kate she was reaching for my hand after waking up from a nap and my hand hit these keys. I then hit send. Did you have a nice nap? I heard Lanie mention something about a shower if you are up to it.  

Lanie: pov I send Castle and Jim out for a bit, while Martha helps me get Kate clean. A nurse is helping me unhook her from the monitors for a bit. Martha is in charge of setting everything up. I wrap Kate's arm cast in plastic wrap so it won't get wet. The nurse helps me get her to the shower chair in the bathroom. Once her clothes are off I adjust the water temperature. I put shampoo and conditioner in her hair then put soap on her body and rinse it all off. Once she is done I grab the big fluffy towel Martha left out for her, drying her off and helping her into her pajamas. Me and Nurse Zoey get her back to bed and hooked up to the monitors again. No more oxygen for Kate, they removed it earlier today, with her luck she will probably need it again later.

Kate: pov it feels so nice to be clean, I just want to get out of her i’m tired of being in the hospital. Hopefully I will get released soon. Hey Lanie, can you pass me my phone? I want to call Liv and get an update on the case. I know it's not going to be pretty and the more I hear about the case the more it will bother me but I need to know. To be continued. ………

[ginuki-mga2023mi6021]

Contacting Helga De Silva Blow Perera

I called the hotel number on Google and the receptionist picked up and said they would ask Ms Helga for an interview. it took a couple of days for no contact for me to call again and no one picked up and I called again 2 days after that and no one picked up again.

I was really stubborn about this so I called them again after another few days and they picked up and told me to send a request through email.

I got a response back from Helga herself

Although I could not have a physical interview, I am very gre]ateful she was still willing to answer my questions despite being very unwell with a bad flu, i later learned.

Below are my questions and the responses she gave to them

When creating Helga’s Folly, you could have turned it into anything—a café, a restaurant, or something else entirely. What made you decide to create a hotel specifically?

To save another property in the 50’s my father added rooms and made what is called now called *Helgas Folly* Art* Museum* Heritage * Anti Hotel * Residence into a hotel and called it ‘The Chalet’ 

What inspired you during the process of bringing the hotel to life?

I was going through a dark period in my life, and my father suggested that I ‘painted out’,my mother was a noted artist, a hard act to follow.. I went into cartoons..  How the walls came to life and told their stories!

What kind of experience or emotions did you hope guests would feel when they entered and stayed at the hotel?

Life must have whimsy.. Much laughter I hope.. 

From the images I’ve seen, Helga’s Folly is filled with fascinating trinkets and unique pieces. Are there any in particular that you feel are especially significant to the hotel?

Not really, they all tell their own story. I like to juxtapose and mix pedigrees, market pieces with the more serious family stuff !

Is there a particular room in the hotel that holds special meaning to you or stands out as your favourite? If so, what makes it unique or significant to you?

The green room upstairs where my family sat and the walls are lined with family photographs and those connected to the Independance era which my grandparents and father were involved with,and of course the sofa where I learnt my kaviche .

The other is the Jane Lillian Vance Grotto next to reception, where a guest artist gifted us a portrait of myself which hangs in an 18th century gilt frame with its own history, name of original portrait still seen. Jane who is a professor of art in Virginia USA, brought the specially treated canvas and in two weeks painted the spectacular 15 ft mural of my family, done  in memory of one of her most gifted students Morgan Harrington who was brutally murdered in Virginia by a serial killer. 

Jane Vance brought over some of Morgans ashes and we had a ceremony in the garden outside Mahatma Ghandi’s room. 

If you could associate a particular type of music with Helga’s Folly, what would it be?

Night and Day Frank Sinatra, Marlena D, Edith Piaf, Nat King Cole, and of course the English rock band ‘The Stereophonics ‘Madam Helga’ .l feel very honored when I hear it. 

If the hotel were an animal, what do you think it would be and why?

Dog,as they are loyal, what you see you get. Not FAKE. 

What are your favourite colours, and what draws you to them?

Red, black, blue,green, bright yellow.   Black I think a good background color for pictures and paintings. Red exciting. Blue peace, green calm, yellow happy.. I love all bright colors.

Who are some of your favourite fashion designers, and what do you love about their work?

Many and of course my daughter Selina Blow whose designs are timeless 

What fashion aesthetic or style resonates with you the most and reflects your style?

Big collars, interesting way out glasses.

When creating the questions I wanted answers to the thought process behind the hotel and anything to do with the hotel relating to using it as inspiration for my own environment for my animation. As well as Helga's fashion choices which would influence the costume designs for my characters.

[heyupyoursjr]

If you support dreamkeepers/vivid you're now supporting ai

If anyone here knows who dreamkeepers are, they now openly condone ai & have an "art" contest going on for it & want you to use an ai model that is used to create non-consensual porn models of existing people & they're also blocking people & hiding post that call them out, also for the traditional art contest that they're hosting alongside the ai one has the same prize as the ai "art" contest so they're literally comparing artist hard work to ai slop.

If you want to gauge their mindset, I sent them a message why I was leaving their Discord because of a moderator that openly allows, post & praises ai garbage(that's clearly scrapped from artists) just to get their rocks off & they're completely ok with it & their response was "I'm sorry you feel that way"

Another sad part is that we were following each other since the early days of Tumblr & it makes me sad seeing what they turned into, with the amount of people telling me why they left their community & the people they keep in their circles.

I sent them an email, all they did was skirt around all the unprofessional/petty behavior & they don't care if you use civitai that is used to create non-consensual porn models of existing people because they told me it has nothing to do with them.

They also informed me that they had an overwhelmingly positive response to the ai stuff & "people have been trying to drive readers away from their stories for years" kind of proves a point, literally turning into the big bad corporation that uses ai & doesn't care.

Seeing the amount of hate for this ai stuff on their Facebook post makes me wonder where the "overwhelmingly positive response" is & wondering why they told me their fans have an interest in it when they clearly don't.

Here's a few links about the ai that dreamkeeperscomic now condone & also want you to use for their contest. \/ \/ \/ https://apnews.com/article/generative-ai-illegal-images-child-abuse-3081a81fa79e2a39b67c11201cfd085f https://www.diyphotography.net/ai-generator-civitai-under-fire-for-creating-nsfw-images-of-children/ https://luddite.pro/civitai-facilitates-use-stolen-intellectual-property/

It really sucks when an artist you've looked up to for so long & even backed multiple indiegogo/kickstarters does stuff like this, I'm beyond disappointed in them & I'll be getting rid of all of the merch that I've gotten over the years.

I highly encourage everyone to second guess anything that has to do with dreamkeepers or vivid.

[innocenceless]

Life Story #002

You cross paths with people in strange ways.

A few years ago (2021?), after I had settled in to Sunali's house with the girls, PJ and I were still seeing each other in undefined ways. Backsliding, if you will. After things blew up in my face and crumbled around us in that god forsaken flooding one bedroom on that guys property, after I made a brave and hushed move for a happy life by emailing Jacqi about the open room, I broke up with PJ and moved out. I still find traces of that time here on Tumblr, saved in my computer drafts, in traces of sent emails and reddit threads--and it breaks my heart. We had a magical few months together in the early stages and I choose to hold fast onto those memories and not be too hard on either of us for how it turned out. Midnight kayak adventures, hiking up hills under the stars with mushroom mead, forging up rivers for miles to magical hot springs. So very special were those times.

After our relationship ended, we both sought out the comfort of our shared embrace and the familiarity of our friendship. Things were complicated and I would shamefully sneak him into my room at night and shuffle him out without telling my housemates. When I finally felt ready to date other people, I let him know. I held my ground with compassion as his heart shuddered through the aftermath of our relationship. I remember one particularly heartbreaking phone call with him crying and asking me why I didn't love him. I assured him that I did, that it wouldn't go away, but that we just weren't a match. I remained compassionate as the reality sunk in. I was proud of myself for not turning bitter or nasty, but empathizing and supporting.

Anyways, after that, I began swimming at the local pool and going to the ceramics studio and riding my bike all around town. Returning to the earth-body things that ground me, and making a routine as I usually do in unsteady plateau moments. I actually only went to the pool once. The funny thing is, I bought a 10 class punch card because you saved 5 bucks and I was sure I would at least go back that many times. The lifeguard was a blonde guy with dreads and an easy confidence who laughed at my bold purchase. I forget how or what happened but he got my number. I am not too keen on white guys with dreads but there was something fascinating there. (perhaps this is a clue in on most of my dating experiences)

We went to a Regional Park (oh now names are escaping me with age?!) in Sebastopol to go for a walk, and ended up sitting on a bench for hours as daylight dwindled and turned to night. Talking about nature experiences, human experiences, astrology and symbols, psychology, life. We had some shared pain and grief losing fathers. He was very focused and hermit-like. I seem to be drawn towards hermits. Those who retreat from popular culture and do their own thing without doubt or shame. I think I would like to be more like these people.

We went on one more walk, because I enjoyed his conversation and outlook, but it became clear he was looking for a serious partnership, and I was simply not. After PJ, I made a promise to myself that it's not worth it to get into a monogamous, committed relationship until I meet someone who really checks all the boxes. At least the important ones. I am done making large, serious compromises for someone. I want a relationship that's easeful.

Anyways, without much of a word and after some loose attempt to make plans again, I never saw this guy again. I can't even remember his name. But the feeling I had sitting on a bench with him during twilight is something that sticks with me. Another thing that stuck with me was his desire to live a life with integrity. That word cut through me straight to the bone. Integrity. Something I feel that I could use more of in my life. Something to steer me. That, and belief in something bigger. I have so often taken short cuts and felt no guilt because I don't think it's harming anyone. But this slow erosion of my own morals has left me feeling empty and unworthy.

[spaceboysbrainspace]

things happening in my life that don’t matter at all just keep entering my brain space:

-friend completely disappeared on me during one of the more intense periods of my life; didn’t have time to be that bothered bc of intense (or like was bothered but couldn’t process); finally talked to him this weekend abt how that was shitty and ofc immediately started wanting to get back into the practice of seeing him multiple times a week, except that I don’t want that even a little bit!!! Not at all!! Fuck that!!

-side note on that one of the things he said was ‘well bc everything was really intense for me too I gravitated towards only doing things that were fun and easy’ which like cool!! glad you didn’t interact w me bc it would have been too difficult and tiring bc of the shitty time I was having! thanks!

-am being a baby abt my other friend genuinely being too busy (but he at least tells me!!!!!)

-my new home is so pretty :)

-have an art I want to make but haven’t had time yet

things that matter medium that are happening in my life:

-my dog w separation anxiety is slowly slowly getting better about it and maybe someday soon I will be able to leave my property

-I’m extremely dependent on my friends to be able to leave my home rn bc of said dog and somehow… i have been able to do nearly everything i have needed to do and some bonus things too by which I mean my friends are incredible and amazing by which I mean having community care is… overwhelming and beautiful…

-the entire right side of my torso is in pain and has been for a week and the way it is in pain is that my nerves are Too Sensitive which means my Shirt Hurts and uh. I don’t. Like it. Wish it would stop. :)

-……need to send an email. a genuinely actually important email. In world context.