#these are such a great way to get interactions started

[tales-of-a-seahorse]

I needed a few days to put all my thoughts together on this, so forgive the delay.

At my 24 week scan, my amniotic fluid was a little low. My OB asks me to come back in a week for a follow up because they can measure amniotic fluid differently starting at 25 weeks. At the 25 week appointment, my amniotic fluid is measuring in the low-normal range. It's borderline. The problem with having low amniotic fluid is it can cause fetal growth restriction and given my history that is a concern. So, my OB referred me to Maternal Fetal Medicine.

I have some not so great experience with MFM from my last pregnancy. I was misgendered by multiple ultrasound techs and often made to feel out of place. So, I was kind of stressed about having to go there again. But my OB had her nurses try to coordinate with them so to try to avoid any unpleasant interactions this time around. Unfortunately that wasn't enough. I missed the call from the MFM scheduler because I was in a work meeting. When I called back, I got a different person. I said to them: "I'm returning a call from [scheduler]. My OB referred me to MFM for a consult regarding my low amniotic fluid and I'm hoping to speak with them to get that taken care of." There was a long pause before the person responded with: "Sir, you're calling Fetal Imaging..."

"Okay. Maybe I pushed the wrong options in the phone tree? This was the number I was given in the voicemail left by [scheduler]. Can you transfer me to them?" Before she would transfer me, I needed to reexplain why I was calling- I'm pregnant, I have low amniotic fluid, my OB referred me to MFM because of this, and I needed to schedule an appointment. I then had to out myself when she apologized for calling me sir. She looked up my information and eventually agreed to transfer me. The scheduler was much nicer. She got me scheduled for an appointment the next day.

Thankfully, at my appointment the next day, the ultrasound tech was nice and respectful. The MFM doctor didn't seem to have a problem with my gender. She had other problems with some things my OB has told me were okay, but that is neither here nor there. All I'm really concerned about is that she says my amniotic fluid is on the low end, but she thinks it's okay.

These are the two sides of being a trans man and seeking "women's health care". I'm either perceived as a stupid and/or creepy man calling a "women's health" office or I'm misgendered and forced to out myself. Either way, it is unsafe for trans men to seek care, not just for ourselves but for our families as well.

[33forthew1n]

જ⁀➴ ♡young & in love જ⁀➴ ♡

🏎️❣️💙 2016! MV33/MV1 x reader 🏎️❣️💙

trope: strangers to lovers

SMAU- faceclaim: blonde girls on pinterest 👱🏼‍♀️

synopsis: it's max verstappen's first year in Formula One, but it's reader's time as a race guest. when max abruptly meets yn at the paddock, is it love at first sight for the two or just a one-time meeting?

WARNINGS: jos 🙄, one horner mention, swearing, oblivious boyfriend

author's note: first ever fic!!!! let me know how u like it in my inbox or by interacting :) tysm to @iamred-iamyellow for answering all my silly little qs 🫶

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max was just like any other teenager: he had crushes, dreams, friends, and too many responsibilities to count. well, except for one thing: he was motorsport's newest and youngest Formula One driver.

at 17, he debuted with a junior team and did....well, pretty damn well. so, the move up to the big league in the form of Red Bull Racing TAG Heur was no big surprise. he had been labelled a prodigy and future WDC even before obtaining his driver's license which unsurprisingly left him with a mountain of pressure to deal with. pressure that no teenage peer would ever truly understand. he had stopped trying to find commonalities in life experience and accepted that his circumstances were one in seven billion.

at the start of 2016, max had entered the season with one goal in mind: race and race so damn well that nobody could question the fastpaced nature of his driving career. this one-track mind approach also meant another thing: no girlfriends and no serious relationships. a serious relationship meant time, effort, and devotion he couldn't put into his racecraft; as his father so unkindly reminded him way too often for his liking. ₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡

max's first gp with RB

maxverstappen33

Liked by danielricciardo, redbullned, and 298,999 others

maxverstappen33 First race with Red Bull. Happy with the car, but could have gotten more out of the car. Great weekend, thanks team. 💪

view comments ⬇️

danielricciardo Good race, mate. Excited for the future 💪🏎️

^ ❤️ by author

madmax3390 there's a reason why there's sm hype around him!! mad future WDC 🦁

user97370181 daniel outqualified and outraced LOL what a joke

maxdutchlion97 super effort!! ROTY

usernine i don't even get what the hype around him is....

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at the ripe age of ten, yn had decided that sebastian vettel was her all time favorite driver. it was a funny choice for the young girl to make because her dad was a fernando alonso stan and a diehard tifosi at the time. yet, young yn was awestruck at the navy blue car driven masterfully by vettel. ever since she saw him win his first WDC in 2010, yn had dreamt of going to her very first f1 grand prix.

after years of silently wishing that every christmas present and birthday gift was a gp ticket, yn finally got her wish for her 17th bday. it was a ticket to the spanish gp which meant that after her last final exam of the year was over, she'd be on a train to spain. "thank you so much, dad. seriously, i can't believe you kept this hidden for so long!!!", the teenager said in joy. "if i had known you'd be this happy, i would have shown you at christmas. you're welcome, dear." ⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡

fast forward to the spanish grand prix:

yn was bouncing with excitement. after months of planning outfits and smoothing over details, the day had come! she was at her first grand prix; her wish come true. everything was bigger and louder than she could have ever imagined but oh so wonderful. every garage she had seen on TV was now in front of her very own eyes. while she was so busy staring at everything with wide eyes, someone in an obvious rush ran into her.

"oh- sorry. didn-", said the guy in question. "you're o-", said yn, stopping halfway through her words in surprise when she recognized the face of the guy who almost caused the wind to be knocked out of her. it was none other than her favorite team's newest driver: max verstappen. now she had three choices: a) frantically ask for a picture (as proof to show her dad who would never believe her if she told him of this moment), b) stare like an idiot and make them both feel terribly awkward, or c) pretend to not recognize him. "c-can i take a selfie with you?", she said, deciding that choice a was the one to pick.

"oh! yeah, sure.", max awkwardly answered.

"thanks, have a good race!", exclaimed yn, ready to tell her dad a story he wouldn't believe, until she heard a "wait! uhm-" from max.

"can i have your instagram? you know, so that you can send me the selfie-", the teenager made up on the spot. "oh!! yes, just a second!"

after exchanging ig handles, max joked to her, "have fun this weekend. good team kit choice, by the way." she laughed and replied, "yeah, guess i must have pretty good taste, huh. win the race, max. good luck out there."

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max hadn't ever been so starstuck by a girl. the only thing he could think of when he was in front of her was how beautiful and warm she seemed. just genuinely exhilerated for the race and to be at the track. "it's been a while since i've felt like that", thought the driver.

he'd been happily surprised when she gave him her ig handle, not really expecting her to say yes to his request. and so he typed out her username, hit follow, and looked at her latest post.

ynusername

Liked by yourbestfriend and 235 others

ynusername pretty in pink 💞🧁👯‍♀️ @yourbestfriend @otherfriend

view comments ⬇️

yourbestfriend prettiest girl in the 🌎 🥺

^❤️ by author

ynusername u? ☺️💞 DUH

otherfriend had the best time w u 😍 lovelyyy

ynusername yes!!! sleepover next month! 💞

randomclassmate gorg

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throughout the rest of the FPs, max couldn't get yn out of his head. he knew he should be keeping his head down and focusing on how to improve his performance, but in all honesty he was more concerned with impressing the girl who hadn't left his mind.

his father saw his sudden proneness to day dreaming and immediately knew something was different. "max, son."

"yes?", muttered max in surprise. "what is it with you this weekend? you know better than to have your head in the clouds?"

"n-nothing. just thinking..", max replied. fuck, he thought, of course jos would be able to tell that something was on max's mind besides racing.

then came qualifying where it all came crashing down. he had placed tenth on the grid; his worst starting position for the season so far. in the moments following quali, he walked to his garage with his head held down by the weight of what he would have to accomplish in the grand prix to satisfy all expectations.

come sunday, max was ready to win. he knew she was still at the grand prix as she had posted a selfie at the paddock a few hours prior. if he was to impress her and grow bold enough to ask her out, now was the time to succeed.

and succeed he did. he went through the nine drivers in front of him slowly and steadily, unable to believe that he was mere laps away from tasting victory. when he passed vettle, hamilton, and finally rosberg, his eyes filled with tears. then next thing he knew, horner was saying, "max verstappen, you are a race winner. fantastic. what a debut. fantastic. great, great job!"

max was in awe. his first win at seventeen wasn't certain, yet he made it happen. he knew what he needed to do next.

⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡⊹♡₊˚⊹♡

maxverstappen33

Liked by f1, christianhorner, and 1.2 million others

maxverstappen33 First race win and youngest ever race winner. Huge congratulations to the team. Thanks to my family who made it all possible. On to the next. 💪🇳🇱🏎️

view comments ⬇️

f1 That's our youngest race winner 🇳🇱🇳🇱 Super Max!

victoriaverstappen Congrats, maxie. 🧡🧡

^ ❤️ by author

lewishamilton Nice one, mate. 1️⃣

user9827279 already outdoing danny...i can see the incoming favoritism from a distance

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yn couldn't believe it. seeing her favorite team win in her first ever grand prix visit...unbelievable. she had taken dozens of pictures and videos to show her dad and show off to her little brother. as she was leaving the paddock, her phone dinged with a notification. 'hmm. must be dad asking me how the race has been'.

yet, instead it was an instagram dm notifcation.

Max Verstappen

maxverstappen33

Hey, Yn right?

yes!! is this Max or some red bull staff? Haha, its Max. How did you like the Grand Prix?

omg, loved it!!! the most fun i've had in so long :))

congrats on your first win. it was super impressive :')

Thanks! Quick question.

yes?

How would you feel about going on a date?

max verstappen, are you asking me out? Yes, if you want to go. No, if you don't

🤣🤣 Funny.

that's a yes, mr. race winner.

The 21st at 6pm at the movie theatre it is. Can't wait to see you there. 🙂

see you then, max. 🧡

⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

after dozens of conversations and a few calls, max and yn went on their first date. he pulled up to her house with a single red rose. he didn't know if it was enough but he also didn't want to overwhelm her in any way. he waited for her to come out of her house and handed her the rose.

"hello, yn. you look beautiful. this is for you."

"oh- thanks, max! how was the ride over?"

max lived one hour away from yn and it was his first long carride since he got his license.

"it was good. nothing special, you know? how was your day been?", he asked as he opened the passenger seat for her. truth be told they had called as they were both getting ready, but he still asked since nothing put a smile on his voice than her excited talking.

"you know how it was max, hahaha. though, i have to say you do clean up well. you look good."

"thanks. so do you, pretty girl", max said, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

after half an hour of idyll chat, the pair arrived at the movie theatre. max paid for her tickets and the snacks (even after yn's insistence that she should at least cover the popcorn) before they went into the salon.

yn had chosen some random action movie to watch which max wasn't opposed to. they both laughed, yn teared up a bit (which caused max to laugh in surprise over), and even held hands for the first time.

as max parked at her house he asked her, "did you have fun?"

"yeah, i really did. what about you? did i stack up to your usual sunday excitement?"

"you're more fun than any grand prix i've ever raced in. thanks for coming.", he said.

with a kiss on the cheek, they exchanged goodbyes.

⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

after four months, jos had started to become suspicious of max. the teenager had become a lot happier and snuck around a lot more than he used to. yet, he decided not to mention anything until he caught max in the act.

unbeknownst to this, max kept sneaking out and seeing yn. he knew the sneaking around couldn't last forever but he didn't want his dad to tarnish everything he had built with yn. she was patient, kind, beautiful, and the most hilarious person he had ever known.

the greatest negative of being in the best relationship of his life was that max always wanted to talk about her and being her boyfriend. so, after six months had passed since their first date max decided he owed it to their relationship to come out to the world. as a couple? well, not exactly!

maxverstappen33

Liked by ynusername and 230,432 others

maxverstappen33 Happy birthday to the worst photographer I know. On a real note, thanks for being the best friend a guy could ever ask for. @ynusername happy 18th 🧡

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maxmaxsupermax UHM??? soft launch?:?)&/&

poppyf1fan max posting a girl was NOTT on my 2016 f1 bingo card

ynusername ignoring the "worst photographer" allegation...ty maxie 🧡 u have made this bday unforgettable

^❤️ by author

maxverstappen33 always. 🧡

redbullned OH?

randomfan02828 even red bull is surprised 😭🙏

max decided that a friendship soft launch would go over easier. plus, he didn't exactly warn yn of his post (though by her subtle comment you wouldn't be a fool to think otherwise).

"max?? what's this post on insta??", yn practically yelped on the other line.

"oh...that. well, i thought it was about time people knew about us", he nervously responded.

"but, your dad??? red bull? you know, basically everyone in your life?"

"i can deal with all that on my own, don't worry about it. you deserve to be known about. consider it my gift to you on your 18th", he joked.

"max, i think i would consider the bouquet of roses, the bracelet, and the makeup you got me as my gift. you really didn't have to, babe."

"yeah, but you're my girlfriend. who would i spoil if not you?"

⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

now, it was their one year anniversary.

max had come clean to jos over his relationship with yn just a few hours after that initial post. jos certainly wasn't happy and made it clear, but since max was living on his own at 18 there wasn't really much he could do. not that max cared much for his dad's opinion on his romantic relationships.

he had talked to yn about a proper reveal of their relationship and that he....somewhat did.

liked by f1, ynusername, and 800,625 others

maxverstappen33 Summer ☀️ @ynusername

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ynusername this is not what I meant by hard launch...💀

redbullned have fun in the off-season champ 💪

mymax33 ugh...she's not even that pretty 😂

lestappen0975 and ur so hot. that's why u don't show ur face? stfu

liononthetrack ?? bro said nothing yet everything??

danielricciardo I don't think you understand what a hard launch is, mate. 😆

and daniel was right. max assumed that by posting yn people would get the hint that he was her boyfriend. yet, there were still people delusional enough to think that she was just a friend. "you know, babe, that a friend just asked me if i was single or if she could hook me up with someone", yn said, hinting the obvious at max.

"oh, have you not told her about us yet?"

"i have. she just didn't believe it", replied yn, a smile creeping up on her face.

"you should have shown her my post to shut her up", max joked.

"i did. she asked what a guy friend had to do with me being single or not", yn finally said outright.

"guy friend?? wasn't that one of those hard launches you said couples do to reveal their relationship?", max said shocked.

"max. figuring out we are dating from that post is like trying to find a pin in a hay stack. nearly impossible", yn said, practically in tears laughing at max's dismay.

"damn it. seems danny is right. he had said that the post made you look like a friend but i just ignored him thinking he was messing with me."

"they do say that with age comes wisdom", yn responded.

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Liked by yourbestfriend, maxverstappen33, and 22,347 others

ynusername proper hard launch, i'd say. none of that soft stuff 🧡 @/maxverstappen33

view comments ⬇️

maxverstappen33 🧡 love you, schat. happy one year 🧡

ynusername best one year of my life 🧡

madmax3303 oh!!! max's friend is his...gf???

f1fan2008 how did he pull such a baddie 💀

danielriccardo You need to teach Max how to hard launch. Heidi called his post weak 😂

^❤️ by author

yourbestfriend CUTIESSSS 🥹🥹🥹

^❤️ by author

going to her first grand prix led to the best thing in her life: her boyfriend. and all it took to show the world were a few unclear posts and an oblivious boyfriend.

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hope you enjoyed!!

interact as much as you'd like

send requests for any f1 driver 🏎️

[biancadoes1]

Sorry, this is long and if you don't post it, I understand.

I want to go back to the WT for a sec, and one of the reasons I don't think what we saw was fake. First of all, I think the existence of dating co-stars, while having the potential to be great for a project, is more likely to be a headache for PR. What if there are problems, or the couple break up while doing promotion? Obviously, when doing promo, there is always the desire to present co-stars who get along and had a great time working together (even when the opposite is true), but beyond that, I don't think Netflix or Shondaland would be putting pressure on them to mirror their characters--certainly not to display the level of unhinged behaviour we saw. Whether or not they were flirting like mad because they're obviously attracted to each other (but were not together), or carrying on an affair while seeing each other people casually, or together all along....I firmly believe that chemistry and closeness is very real.

I didn't really start to think they were together until they started responding to people asking about it. I couldn't for the life of me understand their reactions. I expected them to be clear that Penelope and Colin are characters they play, and reality is different than fiction. Yes, I think Luke said at one point, it meant they did their jobs well, and obviously Nicola said they were great friends....but obviously, I was not the only one that noticed what seemed like very careful word choices, a lot of smiles and blushing, and an acknowledgment that fans shipping them was "sweet" and "not to worry". They saw the whole shipping discourse getting bigger and bigger, you would think they would want to push back harder, not in a mean way, but in a "we're bloody actors" kind of way. And no, I don't think it would have affected viewership--people were already very excited about Part 1, and looking forward to Part 2. And I would say most people--at that time--were not expecting them to behave the way they did; we're still flipping out about it all now.

What's happening now obviously poses many questions and possibilities...the surface narrative that the media is always right there to jump on *could* be true. But for people that are both described as warm, wonderful, caring people....are both really ok with the nasty vitriol their "partners" receive? To have your bf/gf called names, have their appearances and careers mocked; wouldn't that be reason enough to come out and show some kind of support? Or are we meant to believe that's what the no-comment-uncomfortable-looking appearances are about? ("See, this is who I'm with, leave us alone.") Meanwhile, both N and L seem pretty quick to come to each other's defense, when no one would expect them to (for example, the recent SAG blind item when N emphatically denied L was the subject). And while we know she was at the William Tell premiere, I'm fairly certain she posted nothing about the movie (all the other members of the friend group shared supportive IG stories celebrating Jake). Also, while we know she went to see his play (more than once?), yet she also never made a peep about being there, and what she thought of it and his performance, as a supportive gf (or friend!) would do. And while I can understand that L and N are not as active interacting with each other on SM because of the current insanity of fans, wouldn't things like wishing each other happy birthday be a way of retraining fans and assuring them that they are, in fact, the best of friends, who tease each other and have fun the way they used to?

As always, I want to say that they obviously can do whatever they want to do and don't owe the public a thing. But what we do see....mixed messages, indeed. It just reinforces to me that we really have no idea what's going on.

.

[thegingerparty]

I was tagged in Tidbit Tuesday by @sad-girl-hours23 so now seems like a great time to say that I am in fact writing a fic based on this -> https://www.tumblr.com/thegingerparty/782024880658989056/okay-but-why-havent-we-talked-about-dailey-planet?source=share post!! I'm really excited about it and I hope it doesn't take me a million years to write. lol.

______________

"Do you think he had plastic surgery?"

Eddie pauses in his typing. "I'm not even sure I want to ask."

"For his cleft, I mean."

A myriad of expressions cross Eddie's face before finally settling on something like bemusement. "Pretty sure that's natural, bud."

"You think?" Buck rests his chin in his hand, gazing across the room at where Tommy sits typing on his own computer. He watches as Tommy squints at the computer, before pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Buck's stomach clenches.

He quickly turns back to Eddie. "What about his jawline?" he presses. "There's no way that is all natural."

The loudest sigh Buck has ever heard slowly releases from Eddie's lips. "Buck," he says. His tone of voice is the same one he uses whenever Buck has started oversharing.

"What?" he responds defensively, pulling back to cross his arms over his chest. "Its a valid question!"

"No, Buck, it really isn't." The clicking of the keys continues as Eddie picks up his typing again. He's been really excited about this week's coverage, since the Rangers are in town. You can't take the Tex out of the mex, or however the saying goes. "I thought you guys really hit it off, when you gave him the tour?"

"See, that's what I thought, too!"

"But then…" Buck can feel himself losing Eddie's attention rapidly. He's even more annoyed Taylor is at the city council meeting today, he could really use someone else to vent to about this.

"But then he reconnected with Hen and Chim from when they worked at the Times and Athena agreed to work with him on a case during his second week! I had to wait months for her to work with me voluntarily." Eddie hums noncommittally, frowning at his document. He probably accidentally made every right justified again and is trying to figure out how to change it back.

"And! I know the two of you have been going to bar trivia together on Thursday's after work." Buck accuses, pulling out the big guns. He sits back in the chair smugly as Eddie freezes. He looks over at Buck out of the corner of his eye, not even turning his head.

"Technically, its karaoke trivia," Eddie says. "And I haven't invited you because…." He trails off.

"Because you-you want to exclude me from fun? You want to keep the new guy all to yourself? Sorry that I still don't understand baseball Eddie, but it's not like you can blame me. I mean, the short stop isn't even short! They're usually tall!"

Eddie has taken to rubbing his forehead, a sure sign he's about to professionally tell Buck to fuck off any second.

"I haven't invited you because you hate singing in public unless you're tipsy, which you don't like to do during the week, and because you can be kind of…intense about trivia. I didn't want to scare Tommy off right away."

Buck scoffs. "I am not that bad." he insists.

"You got us kicked out because you kept arguing with the host about how the answers were actually wrong. At three different bars!"

"Well they were wrong." he grouses, borderline pouting, now, even though he would never admit it. "And if it happened again, I would have made sure to keep my cool in front of Tommy."

"Buck you tripped me when walking into the elevator yesterday so you could get in first and stand between us." Eddie has his patent "Dad Face" on, like he's about to ground Buck for a week.

"You can't prove that." Buck says airily.

Eddie just shakes his head. "Listen, whatever it is you have against this guy, you need to get over it. I mean, you barely even work with him, no one is forcing you to interact with him if you don't want to."

Buck rolled his eyes. Eddie was so missing the point. Because the thing is, Buck had wanted to interact with Tommy, had been looking forward to it. But somewhere along the way everyone else had gotten there first and now Buck was stuck trying to figure out how to either make an impression on him, or find a way to ignore him completely.

(He had been trying that for days.)

(It wasn't working.)

Which meant his only choice was to make an impression.

Tagging @queermccoy @dharmaavocado and @thefixations-ofmine if they so desire and anyone else that reads this and wants to share!

[more-mara]

i just read basically everything you've ever posted and i'm begging for more of that one abo au where oscar is like secretly an omega and everyone's lowk thirsting over him, i'll take scraps but it was so good i almost died, all your writing is amazing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Scraps are all I have to offer lmao

Alex wouldn’t say he cared much about designations, especially not when it came to his coworkers. In his mind, it wouldn’t change much anyway- it would be a little sexist if it did, right?

So Alex never really thought about it besides the occasional little thing. It just didn’t matter.

“You up for paddle again this weekend, Oscar?” Alex asked after finally managing to corner Oscar in the paddock. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get a spare moment to speak to him given his current winning and podium streak.

“What? Oh…uh, I can’t…sorry,” Oscar mumbled, a small blush on his cheeks. Alex assumed it was due to the heat.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You can bring Mark again. Carlos has been begging for an invite so we can play doubles,” Alex suggested and Oscar just seemed to shift uncomfortably on his feet.

“I really just- can’t,” Oscar said, avoiding eye contact. He seems stressed by the sheer mention of it.

“But we have the week off! Won’t you be in Monaco?” Alex persisted and he could see the way Oscar’s face seemed to screw up as he started to fiddle with a loose thread on his shirt.

“I’ll be in Monaco,”

“So what- oh…is it like…monthly business?” Alex whispered and this time he was certain that the blush on Oscar’s face was not caused by the heat.

“Sorry mate, I didn’t mean to pry. Probably should’ve taken the hint,” Alex said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment- soothing over his own scent glands despite the blockers.

Yeah good one Alex, pester the guy about his upcoming rut. Yup, great idea.

“It’s okay. It happens,” Oscar said with a a shrug.

“Right well. Good luck with that then, call me if you need anything,” Alex said and he didn’t really think about the implications of that until he saw Oscar’s startled expression and a blush that was definitely not caused by the heat.

“Oh! I didn’t mean- uh- yeah…unless you like…need help. Alright, I’m gonna stop talking now, see you around!”

Alex felt his own face flushing as he walked away- his mind racing about that entire interaction. Alex was just surprised that Oscar seemed a bit…docile about it. Like he wouldn’t mind being looked after during what Alex assumed was his rut- like he wouldn’t mind Alex looking after him. Like it wasn’t even a rut at all.

Strange.

Very strange.

[watchthisqqq]

Heesu in Class 2

I’ve posted that it’s hard to write about heesu in class 2. I don’t mind critique. I really don’t (heck I agreed with some of the critique). But the amount of negativity I feel does mischaracterize what this show is actually like so the audience reaction is going to be part of my review. There is a lesson in expectation setting here which could have helped with some of the backlash. What things boiled down to is that this show is worth watching. The show has a kdrama style but it is good. It’s well acted, well shot and there is clear direction on where it’s going. Everything has a purpose in supporting Heesu’s journey towards self-acceptance or the audience acceptance of that journey.

This might feel like an odd analogy but comparing this show to breaking bad: people complain that it's a slow/boring at the beginning because it's setting up so many different things. I never felt like Heesu was boring but it's comparable to me because the audience is receiving a lot of information that you won't get a pay off for until much later. Because the pay off is so delayed that it feels great when it happens.

I understood what the show was doing even when sometimes I didn't like all of it. The Chang Young and Ji Hu were a contrast in straight couples having it easier but also something that audience could link onto while waiting for the pay off of heesu and seong won getting together. But I think that didn't quite work because of audiences mind set going into the show and they were not that enthralling. But I think partially by design: they were the smooth ride with so little hurtles to overcome and the focus and the anticipation is on heesu and seong won where it should be.

I'm going to be compassionate with the critiques because I do think certain things were stacked against this show. I think it was supposed to be released two years ago. There were rumors of it being straight washed. If that's already in people's heads and a het couple gets added. Manhaw readers have expectations and then this is not a regular bl format. All this is going to make it an uphill battle for the show.

However despite all that and even my own hesitancy about the format I did recognize the quality and the heart of the show. I loved heesu, seong won, ji hu from the start no problem. Heesu's family and his interactions with them are amazing. I surprised at the level of anger this show has received past the mid point when things started picking up more speed. There are a lot of good things here and I assumed that would shine through despite the previous perceptions.

I wish I and others had gone into this show in the same way I did with love in the big city. If I knew it was not a conventional format I think I would have set myself up better.

I immediately connected with Heesu as a character. I recognize the emotionality, the jealousy, the possessiveness, the meaness. The feeling of creating discomfort for others just by existing. We've seen self-acceptance stories before but this feels unique and feels honest. The acknowledgment of the internal consequences of homophobia.

What I want to emphasize is that there is excellence in this show which for me makes the critique irrelevant. Heesu’s journey is the core of why this show is so good. Personally I cry every time I think about it for too long. To have that othering be seen and acknowledged and the effect of it and to walk through it. Episode 9 is something that will stay with me. That episode couldn’t have happened without the build up of the previous episodes.

I don’t want to speak on how people are feeling but there is something here about the intensity of this reaction. It’s like there is an undercurrent of protectiveness of bl and fear of this overt queer expression being taken away. For me the core of this story does speak truth to the queer experience and love for it. I disagree with the idea that the show is homophobic (queerbaiting, straightwashing, etc.) because despite it’s framing everything in the story is in service of a queer character's acceptance of his queerness.

I’m accepting that the show did not resonate in the same way with everyone that it did for me. The point of this post is to say maybe not to be dissuaded by the response and see if it resonates with you.

[snurtsnurtcreations]

The Ghost in the Moors

Johnny Mactavish x Simon Riley x Reader

Hey y'all, enjoy my most recent, incredibly persistent brainworm that's resulted in this word vomit. Heavily heavily inspired off the vibes of The Secret Garden and Jane Eyre

Warning: I wrote a sad ending for this one. Major character death y’all, so watch out.

The distinguishable gentleman Mactavish has at long last taken a wife. His heart is not truly in the marriage, but that is perfectly understandable for a man of his standing in high society. (He’s never been so listless before his dearest friend, Simon Riley, died- but those are just the whispers of his staff). He is not cruel or particularly dismissive of his wife, but… it is clear he does not care much for you either.

Not minding much, you take on the duties of the estate admirably. The staff all respect you greatly, and you find fulfillment in many a task surrounding the care of the grounds. Regrettably, however, you do end up falling in love with your husband from the glimpses of him that you get interacting with the staff, with animals, with children… You’d wanted to avoid catching feelings for him when you knew from the get-go that this was a marriage of convenience, but there is a true goodness in him and a charm just past the deep gloom that settles on his countenance.

The thing is though, the Mactavish estate holds a secret. Late at night one might hear a haunting howling. On the dreariest of days, when the fog lies thick and curling over the moors, you’d swear there was a dark presence wandering the grounds. And no one dared enter the abandoned walled-off garden. There is great evil brewing there, the staff would say. It was never particularly dangerous before that one night that… oh, well, they really shouldn’t say.

You start trying to investigate into this mystery. How could it be that there is a whole garden, a plot of considerable size, that no one had access to? What is it that all the staff are nervously tipping-toeing around saying? And why are all past accounts of an energetic and joyous Johnny so false in the face of the cold, impassive character in the present day?

One stormy day, they take in a group of people passing by to provide them some refuge until the storm passes. One of them, an old woman, confidently claims there is a ghost in their midst. The crack of lightning and thunder immediately following her statement does not lend itself well to the doubt of such a statement. Neither does the nervous silence of the staff. Johnny, however, is adamant that such talk is nonsense.

Later, you take the old woman aside, and ask more about what led her to such a conclusion earlier. The old lady just pats your hand and cheerfully says, “Because I am a witch, dearie- I have a sensitivity to these sorts of things.”

You decide far be it from you to question an old lady, but ultimately you do not take much stock in her words. (Though, you make note in your mind, you may not believe it to be true, but you certainly don’t believe it entirely false either…)

You spend your days occupied with the goings-on of the estate, but occasionally you go for a walk around the grounds, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by rolling hills and nothing but moorland and some sheep in the distance.

A horse comes galloping down the road, and the rider brings it to a full stop as he nears you, the horse rearing it’s head at the suddenness, it’s hooves clipping against the ground anxiously. It’s Johnny. He seems surprised to see you.

“What are ya doing all the way out here, my lady?”

“Simply out for a stroll, my lord.” You answer, confused.

“Is that where you’ve been disappearing for hours? You’ve got all the staff on edge.”

“My apologies, my lord, I hadn’t meant to-“

“Just let them know when you go out next, is all.” And that concludes the conversation. His expression hardly changes as he gallops back out to whatever business he must attend to.

His back and forth attitude confuses you. Just this morning you saw him jump up from the breakfast table to go see to an injured lamb on his property, but now here with you he is cold and impassive.

Still you make attempts to connect with him, and dutifully continue doing your countess tasks.

When one day you ask Johnny on an evening stroll about the garden, what starts as an innocent question becomes a full blown argument as he gets increasingly more upset and angry at you. You cannot for the life of you understand what is making him so irritated about it- you just wanted to know more about this garden!

“Fine! You wish to know about the garden? Let me show you the garden.” He snarls in his fit of rage and grabs you by the wrist. You stumble after him as he stomps to the walled garden, brushes aside the vines to reveal a door and lock that you would otherwise have never known was there. He pulls a key off a chain around his neck and slams the lock open, yanking you into the garden.

The thing is, the sun is setting, the sky darkening rapidly- likely due to the dark clouds brewing on the horizon, inching closer and closer with the strong winds. You are entirely uneasy. The last thing you’d wanted was to see this garden in such conditions, with Johnny in such a rage. For the first time in your stay here, Johnny’s made you truly afraid as he guides you deeper into the garden. You softly plead for him to stop, to slow down, but your pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.

The garden is so large it’s practically a forest of its own. The plants are so overgrown, the bushes towering over you may as well be walls, and the vines and roots taking over the ground seem to make it their mission to trip you up. Already you have lost sight of where the door was.

“Here. Here is the god damned garden.” He says as he tugs you even deeper into the foliage. Your foot snags on a root, and this time you fall to the ground. Your fall causes him to pause a few steps ahead, and you wonder if it might have pulled him out of his episode. But then he turns to you with a manic grief-stricken glint in his eyes, spreading his arms out demonstrably. “Is this what you wanted to see so badly? The ruined remains of whatever good I’d had?” Johnny roars.

You can only stare up at him, teary-eyed and confused. He opens his mouth to say more, but the wind makes a whisper noise akin to what you’d swear sounded like someone saying “Johnny…”. Both your heads snap towards the sound. You see nothing but the swaying branches, but Johnny’s sharp inhale has you turning back to him. His face is pale as you have never seen it before, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“No, no…” He whispers. Never had you seen such deep terror in anyone’s face. Just as you are about to ask what is the matter, he turns and sprints away as though he had all the hounds of hell on his tail.

“Johnny!” You shout in alarm, but by the time you have risen to your feet, he is already out of sight. You run in the same direction he took, but it is difficult to navigate the garden, especially now that the sun is gone and darkness coats everything. Branches slap painfully against your face whilst your hands are busy hiking up your skirts, so you drop one side to shield your head. “Johnny!” You shout again, with a growing panic as you realize you don’t know where he went or where you should go to exit the garden.

Nothing answers back except the howling of the wind.

You come to a complete stop. You cannot even hear any sound of Johnny’s movements. Looking around provides you with no clues for where to go. Your breath hitches, but you bite down your panic and steel your nerves.

“Alright,” you mumble to yourself, “alright, no need to panic. I must simply find one of the walls and follow it until I reach the door.” With your newfound inkling of bravery, you set off in one direction, attempting to keep as straight a line as you can with the bushes and trees in the way. A nearby owl taking off nearly makes you jump in fright, but you push onward. Just as you reach a wall, setting a hand on the stone bricks with triumph, the first drop of rains hits your nose.

Your spirits take a swan dive as the heavens open up a torrent of downpour. You try to hurry along the wall, but it is difficult to do when there are huge swathes of overgrown plants that you must find a way to step around, then find the wall again. It is only when it starts to rain so hard that you can’t keep your head up without droplets obscuring your vision that you decide to perhaps wait it out a little. You find the largest tree within your limited line of sight and hug yourself close near its trunk. Underneath the canopy of the tree, the rainfall is lessened, allowing you to see just how hard it is raining outside the cover of the leaves. You let yourself sink down to the ground when shivers start to wrack your form and the rain shows no signs of easing up.

You sniffle miserably. If you let a few tears loose, well, who would be any the wiser whether the droplet down your cheek originates from the sky or your eye?

“I’m so stupid.” You murmur despondently, “Never should have brought it up in the first place.”

But you still when it feels as though a hand is wiping your tears. You turn to the source and see- nothing. And yet the warmth along your cheeks is undeniable. Some unseen hand slides down your hair and settles a warm, warm palm against the back of your neck. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes searching for someone who is not there.

“Don’t give up…” A voice whispers, “Take care of him.”

You blink the tears from your eyes, wiping the remaining wetness off your cheeks.

“Alright.” You take a steadying breath, “I- I will.” And your voice carries true conviction, because truth be told, you would have kept taking care of Johnny either way, for your love for him runs deep, even though today has not been the first time you’d thought perhaps it shouldn’t run so deep.

An approving hum, and then a feeling akin to being embraced. You allow the warmth to seep into your skin, to chase your doubts away, your hands hovering in uncertainty.

“Who… who are you?” You whisper. The warmth pulls away.

“Only a ghost.” Is all the answer you get. Then there is a distinct emptiness in the air, and you feel as though whatever presence was here has left now, yet you still ask,

“But what is your name?”

No answer.

You rise and look around. The rain is not as heavy as it was before. You set back off to follow the wall, when you hear an anxious voice calling your name from somewhere within the walls of the garden.

“I’m here!” You answer. Soon Johnny emerges through the foliage, looking entirely guilty, but relieved to have found you. He hurriedly wraps a cloak around you.

“I’m so sorry, my lady, I- I never should have brought you here, let alone have had the impudence to leave you in the dark unaccompanied- I am truly- truly sorry.” He stumbles over his words, worried eyes examining your form.

“It’s… it’s alright, my lord” You let him wrap your hand round his elbow and lead you out of the gardens. Despite the darkness and overgrowth, it seems he knows exactly where he’s going. “You looked terrified when you fled- what was it that sent you away in such a hurry?”

“Perhaps that old woman was right.” He says in a hushed tone, like a confession, “For a moment, I could have sworn I’d… seen a ghost.”

As you approach the door to the garden, you think it could very well be true- in the corner of your eye you catch sight of the large ghostly form of a scarred man, fading in and out of reality.

Following that day, you keep your promise to the ghost, caring for Johnny in whatever ways you can, making sure everything in the estate runs smoothly, having food be brought up to him when he misses his lunches, being a comforting presence in the evenings in the library when the fire runs low and it is obvious he is restless with the silence of the house.

He has even begun speaking to you a little about his past, which you’d like to think is because he’s warming up to you, but rationally you reason it is more likely because he still feels guilty for his actions that day. Sometimes he speaks of his old friends, men he had served in the military with when the war had been ongoing. Once he’d confessed that the garden was a gift to his old love. You hadn’t pried, but you could tell this old love of his was still enduring to this day, his face struck with grief as he spoke of it. He’d soon excused himself to retire for the night, as though suddenly remembering it’s you he was speaking to.

During one peaceful evening, you had gently asked permission to restore the garden. He had seemed uneasy with the idea, but then schooled his expression to appear nonchalant, and shrugged you off with a “sure, why not?”. His reaction had almost made you take back the offer, but then your mind flashed back to the ghost, and you felt in your bones that it would be better in the long run to set the garden back to it’s former glory, in honor of whoever it had been initially made for.

It became your personal little pet project. You did not include the staff in this effort, your gut warning you against it, as though the inclusion of others would somehow desanctify the garden. So bit by bit every day, you would go in and weed and trim and do what you could on your lonesome. Many evenings you’d be found in the library reading up on gardening books, and often you’d question the local farmers on plant caretaking - you would have asked the gardener of your estate, but it turns out you didn’t have one. The staff had told you Johnny had never bothered replacing the previous gardener. When you’d asked what happened to the previous one, they all fell silent.

There were days you knew you were not alone in the garden as you tended to the plants and cleared pathways. Somehow you could always tell when the ghost would come to join you, unseen though he was. Sometimes his eyes digging into the back of your neck, other times his hands brushing some plants away to reveal your misplaced trowel.

Eventually, perhaps once it became clear to him that this isn’t some passing fad but a permanent routine for you, he begins conversing with you. Just small quips at first, a ‘that one’s a weed’ here, a ‘don’t trip’ there. You always respond with a thank you, and try valiantly not to pry with all your burning questions. As time goes on he speaks more. He has a habit of telling you silly jokes (ones a proper lady probably ought not to laugh at) that have you giggling while you’re weeding. Oftentimes he starts talking about a specific plant and how best to care for it. You listen closely, enraptured by his vast knowledge, and even start bringing a journal to write down notes. (Sometimes he huffs out a laugh when you write something down with wide eyes, though you’re uncertain whether that was actually a laugh or just a gust of wind sweeping over your hair). On especially foggy days, you can nearly see him fully- which you’d think would be counter-intuitive, but it is almost as though the fog lends him form. It does not last long though, only a flicker and then he is a disembodied voice once more.

Every once in a while, you hear Johnny approaching the garden door while you are inside. The ghost always falls silent when it happens, and it feels as though all three of you are holding your breath. But always Johnny pauses by the door, stands for but a minute, and retreats back. The ghost becomes much more reserved after Johnny leaves, not joking any more nor speaking as much. It takes a few day’s time before he opens up again.

Sometimes, though rarely, you admit to the ghost how deeply in love you are with Johnny. He answers with a knowing chuckle, saying “He’s easy to love.” The ghost will let you wax on poetic about little moments that made the yearning in your heart pulse like a blooming bruise. How he handled a tough situation with the servants, treating them fairly and compassionately. How he scaled up a tree in town to get a farmer’s cat down, effortlessly climbing up the branches and gently cradling the cat. The way he looked at you over dinner with those piercing eyes of his, how the light catches in them so handsomely. The ghost only sighs wistfully, as if he shared your yearning all the same.

“But I know he dislikes me.” You confess, “He still longs for his old love, the one he built this garden for, and resents me for taking the place of his beloved. I feel he wishes he had never met me, let alone married me.”

“Don’t say such things,” The ghost answered sternly, “Though he is swallowed by grief, he still cares deeply for you.”

You didn’t believe him, but you let him have the last word, returning to your work.

When not gardening or taking care of the estate or watching out for Johnny, you start an even more private project- researching into who the previous gardener was. The servants’ hush when you had asked about a gardener piqued your curiosity- it felt like the first real clue to solving the estate’s mystery. You tried finding records of why he isn’t in the estate any longer, or even simply records of his employment, but there seemed to be no trace, not even a name. Either the records had been destroyed or Johnny kept them locked away- and the last thing you wanted was to send Johnny into a rage again for prying. (You may have forgiven him, but the mind does not forget so easily- just the mere thought of overstepping made you incredibly uncomfortable- and he never acted that way with anyone else, so, really, it’s you who was the problem. Perhaps his dislike of you is more than that, perhaps it is a hatred?)

You reach a disheartening stopping point in your research when you can find no more. That is, until Duke Price and Lord Garrick give your husband a visit. They are some of the old military friends Johnny’d spoken of previously. Entertaining your guests in the parlour, the topic of your work in the garden is brought up. A somber hush falls over the men. A true tragedy the gardener met his demise, they say, he was a good man. One of the best. They pour out a drink for their fallen friend. Johnny asks that you give them a moment of privacy, so you oblige. (Heavy-hearted though you may be).

You learn his name that day. Simon Riley.

Later, you are hesitant to bring it up in the garden, but… you are burning up with questions, and perhaps, perhaps this once, the ghost might answer.

“Do you know…” you begin hesitantly, but stop uncertainly. He hums for you to continue, so you gather together whatever scraps of bravery you have, “Did you know the previous gardener of this place? A Mr. Simon Riley?”

The air grows still, a tense silence falling over the area. Then,

“Of course I knew him.” The ghost says, his voice soft and sorrowful. An invisible hand tucks a hair behind your ear, “For he and I are one and the same.”

You take in a sharp inhale. Your hands twist the fabric of your skirts.

“May I call you by your name, then?” You ask quietly.

His answer is whisper-soft, a shuddering concession, “Yes.”

“Simon. Simon Riley…” You say it slowly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your tongue. And then his form fades into view like never before. Still slightly transparent, but now he is here, directly in front of you, and so close, so close you could reach out and cradle his face, and his eyes, oh his eyes, they are so full of longing and woe. “You are… beautiful…” You breathe.

He flinches, taken aback, eyes wide.

“You can… see me?” He asks, astonished. You can only nod in response.

He refuses to answer any more of your questions that day, and instead waits to see how long this bout of visibility lasts for. From that day forward, you can see him at all times, though some days greater than others. Some days he is barely an outline against the garden walls, and other days you can see him as clearly as if he were alive and real. Those days it is only your hand phasing straight through his body when you try to set a palm on his shoulder that breaks the illusion.

Since he will not answer your questions, you turn to other means, now armed with a name. You look through public records, and find a cemetery with his name, and then an obituary that stated he had died in a fire. You shudder at the thought of it, pained on his behalf. What a horrid way to go. But there are no further details on what caused the fire nor where it had happened. Was it on the battlefield? Was it in the grounds of the estate?You find no further details.

You return to gardening and your countess duties.

There finally comes the day that Johnny approaches the garden door and instead of leaving, creaks the door open. Your conversation with Simon had fallen silent the moment you heard Johnny’s steps once more, but when the door had opened, you and Simon exchanged a surprised, excited glance.

Johnny stood within the doorway, looking around with equal parts amazement and heartache, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed. It made you suddenly realize just how much progress you’d made after all this time. The garden looked nothing like when you’d first seen it on that dark night. The flower beds were thriving, the bushes cut back to a respectable size, the vines no longer encroaching plants and pathways but rather providing a delightful contrast to the other foliage. Deeper in the garden there were still pathways overgrown, but for now you had completed a commendable amount of work.

A couple steps in, and Johnny was turning his head this way and that to take it all in.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” You greeted him.

“Good afternoon, my lady.” He parroted back. “You… really have been busy in here.”

“Yes, I’ve grown quite fond of the garden. I hope I have done it justice, though I have not seen it in its golden days.”

“You’ve done… remarkably well in restoring it.” Johnny murmurs. “It looks almost… like…” He trails off.

“Like…?” You echo. He shakes his head, as though breaking from a reverie.

“It looks almost identical.” He says, but you feel like that is not quite what he meant to say initially. While his attention is elsewhere, you exchange a look with Simon. Simon seems quite familiar with Johnny, and perhaps what Johny might have meant, shaking his head wryly.

That leads you to wonder why Johnny can’t seem to see Simon. If he saw the ghostly figure besides you, surely he would have said something? If it was Simon that had made him flee the garden that first evening here, would it not stand to reason that Johnny knows something about Simon’s demise, and is perhaps more qualified than you to be able to see his ghostly form?

But Johnny says nothing, and his eyes never stop on Simon as he glances around.

“It’s… good to see the place be put in order.” He says primly, then moves to leave, “I will see you at dinner, my lady.”

You say your goodbyes and watch as he makes a swift exit. You and Simon listen as his footsteps become more and more distant. Then you crumple in on yourself.

“Ohhh, he hates it, he hates what I’ve done to it.” You bemoan miserably. “I’ve besmirched the memory of his lover and now he despises me all the more.”

“What! Are you daft?” Simon exclaims, “That was him saying thank you, stilted though it may be.”

“Don’t lie to me, Simon, you saw him! You heard his tone! I am an imposter in this garden, in this household, and he will never accept my being here.”

Simon grips your shoulders, meeting your gaze seriously, and it is the first time you have ever seen him look so angry.

“Don’t you dare speak that way. You, you shining, quaking thing, you belong here most of all. He cares for you, I know it.”

“No you don’t, no you don’t. You don’t see us in the house, Simon, you don’t see our dinners- he barely speaks to me aside from polite conversation and those few times he’s had a drink and forgets that it is me he is speaking to. There are times he looks at me and I can tell, it isn’t me he is seeing, not really.”

No matter how much Simon swears up and down that you’re wrong, nothing he says can change your mind. You depart the garden that day with a heavy heart, feeling as though you had said far too much to Simon, added onto his already heavy burden with your own trifling sorrows.

Weeks go by and nothing really changes. The sun sets and rises, the skies continue to be plagued by grey clouds, the heather blooms purple over the moorland. You busy yourself with the garden and making preparations for your head maid to visit some family, which meant reworking certain schedules, and Johnny busies himself with the business and the farmers in the area.

Then one day you happen upon a tattered letter. It slips out of an old book you had reached for in the library. The book had looked worn and well-loved, so you had reached for it out of curiosity, when out dropped a lone letter.

You read over it once, twice, thrice… then sank into the window seat with a hand over your mouth and wept, eyes tracing the words over and over again.

It was a letter addressed to Simon, from Johnny. There was evidence of old tears on the paper. The shaky strokes of the pen were visible in every word- every word a confession of love and regrets. Every other word was an apology. Sorry for leaving Simon in that town alone, sorry for not getting to the burning building fast enough, sorry for not confessing his love properly while he was alive. An account of all the sweet moments the two had that he would miss forevermore, and a single final ‘I love you’ finishing off the letter.

The dots all connected in your mind then. The love they shared, the garden that was built, the yearning glances and longing sighs- the burning house, the deep regrets, the haunting, the listlessness. It was a vivid picture painted in your mind, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for there to be some happy ending for them. Your heart ached for their love story cut short, burned with your love for them.

You tried to compose yourself and set the letter back into the book, but then your eye caught on the inscription on the cover page of the book.

‘To my dear Johnny, I may not be the best with words, but I would borrow from all the poets in the world if only to see your smile.’

You stifle the sudden sob that bubbles up your throat, and flip through a couple pages of the book- all of it lovingly annotated, certain phrases underlined, notes in the margins of some pages. You gently, ever so carefully, fold the book closed and set it back in its place on the shelf.

That night all you can do is weep for the two.

But surely there must be something you can do? Simon may be a ghost but he is still here- that has to count for something, right? But then might he disappear if his regrets are laid to rest? You’ve read somewhere that ghosts are only souls that have unfinished business in the world of the living… You do not know enough about the supernatural to say anything for certain.

So you track down the old woman who’d first said there’s a ghost in the estate. She said she is a witch, did she not? Surely she might have some solution, something that could help? When you reach her little cottage and tell her all that has happened, all you have learned, you are not quite as composed as you’d thought you would be, instead kneeling at her side and telling your tale like a beseeching child, with tears sliding down your cheeks. The old lady strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Oh, my child… there is little that can be done when one is dead.” She says regretfully, “There is a balance in life, you see? One cannot bring back a life without giving something back in return of equal measure.”

You glance up sharply, eyes wild.

“A life for a life, then? It is possible?” You ask. The old woman is taken aback.

“Well, yes, but…”

“I could turn in my life for Simon’s? They could be happy together again?”

“It is… possible. But, child, what of your happiness?” She asks earnestly. You pause, contemplate. Then shake your head, determined.

“I would be overjoyed to see them reunite. That is my happiness.”

And so the plan is hatched. The witch needs some items of import to make the spell work, which you are able to obtain with some sneaking around. The difficult part is the spell must be done where the ghost’s presence is tethered. You aren’t certain where that may be until she starts asking where you tend to see Simon most often and where is his form most sturdy and visible. Then it becomes obvious to you it must be in the garden, so the issue lies in sneaking her out to garden with everyone none-the-wiser.

In the few days leading up to the spell, you become more withdrawn. Simon catches on quickly to the change, but chooses to let you keep your secrets. To your surprise, Johnny also seems to notice a difference in you, and unlike Simon, he is persistent in trying to figure out what might be the matter. With each passing day it becomes more and more difficult to brush him off.

But soon the night of the ritual is upon you. You sneak out of the house in your silky gown with naught but a single candle, and meet the old woman near the entrance to the garden.

Simon is instantly upon you, questioning and inquisitive as the witch sets everything up.

“What… what is this?” His face is grim.

“I’m bringing you back, Simon.” You answer lightly. His eyes widen at the realization as the witch starts chanting, cutting your palm open.

“No. No, stop this immediately!” He reaches for you, to pull you away, or push you back, but his hands phase right through you. It is one of the nights his form is weakest, and you’d purposely chosen today for that reason. “Don’t you dare. I need you here- we need you!”

You only send him a soft, doleful smile, taking a vial from the witch’s basket.

Panic sets on his face as he realizes he cannot stop you. His ghostly form disappears entirely, and part of you is glad you will not have to see the pain in his eyes when you go.

Simon had gone to get the aid of the only one who’d be able to stop you. He used all his strength to appear before Johnny, who’d been at his desk, writing ‘neath the candlelight. Johnny startles and watches, mouth agape, as Simon shouts at him to save you, that you’re in the garden, about to die.

That gets Johnny up and sprinting down the stairs and out to the garden, his shirt billowing in the window, his hair askew. Simon is right behind him, though his form fades in and out of existence. They burst into the garden, footsteps skidding on the dirt.

They are too late.

Johnny grips Simon’s arm in his shock, chest heaving, and Simon’s frame is sturdy, solid, alive as he supports him. Your body is still and motionless on the ground, your face pale, lips parted, eyes open but unseeing. The moon illuminates the scene, an unwilling witness to the tragedy that has befallen.

Simon sinks to his knees while Johnny cradles your limp body. There is nothing they can do but weep.

[jamieedlund]

Not a question but i wanted to say i love the way you depict Aaravos and Callum’s dynamic. I wish TDP delved more into their interactions and relationship because they have the potential to be a great mentor/mentee kind of thing with similar interests. And your art style is amazing, it has a pretty watercolor feel to it with exquisite lighting. (But may I ask how you approach your art?)

(5 months later, but better late than never aha(❤´艸｀❤) )

I think Callum would say thank you with a big smile on his face

Meanwhile Aaravos being the anomaly that he is:

while I intend to make this as short as possible, I'm not sure what exactly are you asking about when you said how I "approach my art"

Because from what I can infer, I can interpret the question it as:

Literally, as in: "approach" = "get started" - specifically you meant how do I get started working on a piece of art

or  

2. As in you're asking about my entire thought process + work flow from start to finish, since your previous sentence was about my art style, I would also assume that you want me to elaborate on--how I draw things??

Either way, I will do my best to answer, as the 1st way of interpreting your question can also be answered in the 2nd.

I think after working on the Aaravos thesis, my work habit from the time I was making it still remains---

so how about I just guide you through my approach/ art process of the most recent piece I had worked on:

Find my references/inspiration

I can't explain it very well but I can only draw when my brain feels inspired and or motivated. This can happen for numerous of reasons but I find the best and most consistent way to get my brain synapses to connect is to look at arts that makes me wanna draw. And then copy paste all of them into a mood board or onto your drawing canvas, like so:

I also use this program called 'Pureref' so I can just have a moodboard/reference that is constantly on top

you can also use pinterests but be picky about your references because of the AI slops.

I look for references while simultaneously jogging down the sketch/compositions that I want, as you can see the sketch growing along with the references in the previous photos

One useful tip I have for this phase is DO NOT, LINGER. I've since figured out that my hand-eye corelations works best if I don't think to much about it and just let the line flow. Of course this is different for everyone, it's just for me, because my brain really think too fast and have troubles locking in details, it's best for me to keep everything loose. And also having the references right next to me is extremely helpful, so I sketch and look for references at the same time.

And then I just - start drawing I guess?

for this particular piece I decided that I wanted to do some color testing first so

I laid down my base + some large thick brush strokes to make the shapes I wanna keep visible

Now that I have a solid base to build on, I just - render 🤷‍♀️

basically re-line on different layers and color underneath them, merging them and keep fixing until I feel like everything is right--- basically manual labor lol. Lighting on chibis is fairly standard, I don't have an explanation either, I just did what felt good???

I blocked in Callum later on a layer folder on top because if I want to move him around, I won't have to worry about losing/redrawing Aaravos in the back

Finish rendering Callum

Block in background and foreground

And TADAAAA

One happy man and his happy bunny ready to celebrate Spring🥚🐣🐥🍳 (and become a sticker that you can own soon, hopefully 👁🌷👁 )

I'm always against gatekeeping how my art is made so lmk if you have any more question regarding this topic.

That's all! Thank you for reading it this far. Here's some bonus Callum and Aaravos content from my warehouse ��( ° ▽、° )

A sketchboard of a mysterious carriage ride rendezvous!

(I have to clarify non of these are official canon material- I do not work on the show nor am part of the production; I am literally just a random guy on the internet who loves these two to death).

[wifeiy]

Ais Mc and Princess being one happy family uwa. pursues Ais route to continue to interact with princess MY SWEET GIRL 🥹🥹✨️ idk bout yall but my Mc would prolly go to the seaspring to cuddle princess for comfort,, Ais walks in and Mc just asleep cuddling with the good girl.

speaking of Ais, I wanna chew on his biceps

honestly the whole cast is hot I'm chewing on all their biceps

:3 heh. gn!reader fluff. only a little dialogue.. sorry. no beta or revising We die like this

Ais's footsteps match the quiet stillness of the Seaspring as he nears his room, the pool's weight on him easing the further he gets.

He lingers at the entrance, leaning against the door frame chipped and scratched from his own blade and heavy Soulless running into or dragging along it. Glimmers of the sun's last rays for the day light the dust and lingering incense in the air, along with two sleeping figures on his bed curled into each other.

His sheets are no stranger to Princess; she gets her own pillows and side of the bed when she wants. Ais would curl into a corner and give the rest to her if she asked. (She doesn't, of course. She's rather tuck herself into him for the night—it's a comfort for them both.)

But they're no longer a stranger to you either, he realizes.

His usually haphazardly thrown covers have been fixed and smoothed more often at your chiding and care. In a way, it's odd to see his bed now: similar to its old state, blanket thrown only across your torso yet holding Princess entirely except her head and tail, pillows at your head and at the foot.

Lips quirking in amusement, Ais steps over creaky floorboards and crouches at the edge of the bed that you're nearly hanging over. There's a book flipped open beneath your hand resting across Princess's back.

She's taken great liking to you and your voice, and "reading time" has become a new nightly go-to after your escapades. Most times you switch with Ais sitting beside you, trading on and off until Princess is asleep or you're too tired to continue. (He won't count this time since he wasn't here, but there's a tracked number of who falls asleep first, and he always reminds you you're losing by a long shot.)

The fourth reading night in, Ais realized he enjoyed your company at home long after city walks and bar hopping.

Silence fills the Seaspring's halls more than he'd like without you.

Even with Princess and the Soulless and occasional visitor, the echo of his footsteps is often only accompanied by creaks or ripples across the red depths. It's temporary noise that always returns to something empty.

Lonely.

It's why he visits the Wet Wick on nights cold enough to deter most from leaving their homes, and likely why his footsteps are quicker than usual when he hears your call.

Ais's expression softens as he takes in your sleeping state, watching your chest rise and fall. Before he realizes it, his hand is reaching for you.

A thumb rubs arcs over the apple of your cheek, gentle to keep you from waking. (Soft as if you might disappear otherwise.)

This is different, he thinks. Your presence. Not suffocating or cold, but warm.

Quiet more than silence.

A huff sounds, then a sniff, two.

Ais pauses as eyes open, and a tail starts to thump against the mattress.

Princess lifts her head to greet him, and his smile brightens while his voice stays low, "Hi, princess."

She clicks and purrs, matching the gravel in his voice.

Her weight shifts and dips enough to stir you awake.

Ais runs his hand through Princess's tendrils as your brows furrow and eyes squint open. Nearer speaking volume, he teases, "Sleep well? Haven't seen my bed like this in ages."

You groan and smush your face into the mattress. Voice muffled, you reply, "Thanks to me."

Princess moves at the sound of your voice, head nudging yours.

"Mm. My saviour. What would I do if no one fixed my blanket so I could mess it up again?"

"Oh, so you'd like me to stop?" You ask, turning to face him with raised brows.

Princess noses your now visible face and pulls a breathy laugh from your chest. Quickly adopting Ais's role and scratching her favourite spots, you pout in dramatic disbelief. "You'd do that to our sweet girl?"

"Our" pokes at Ais's chest.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue in return.

"Didn't say that," he replies, a beat slower than intended, with a slight tilt of his head.

"Maybe you should stay here more often to do it,"—his eyes flicker between you both—"for Princess."

The sound of her name gets her attention, and she turns to nudge him once more in affection. He starts to pet her the same moment you falter at his words.

Most times, it's Ais already looking at you by the time you can meet his gaze. This time it's him coming in second, cautioning a glance at your expression.

The poke that followed "our" pokes again when he sees you're already smiling.

The room has dimmed since he first came in, the light of the window shifting with the moon—a sign to Princess that she'll be read to again. You finally nod, eyes flickering away from Ais and hand petting her once more. "...Yeah, okay."

my beautiful dialogue.. soz again... trying new-ish things.. write for urself... care less about others and interaction etc etc...

i don't know/remember what noises soulless make and i didn't want to check. LOL. clicking would be neat though

the Hi princess not Hi Princess was on purpose because. the name and term are different to me. feel like he was saying princess 👸

please do not ask me where taf his room is or the layout of that place. I am a girl who does not know anything and writes what her heart needs.

[ceratedfish24]

Knowing that most wildcards if not all were made in a week between the sessions, it feels like a much bigger task than sorting through viewer suggestions and making them up from scratch, tho I can't know for sure.

Yeah, the difficulty of the tasks varied a lot, but it kinda didn't bother me too much, because then they could be done with the task and do their own thing. I did love Pearl's task of getting hearts from people, but I'm a Shadowmoon shipper and the moment it created has been ingrained in my heart.

From Etho's episode I mainly remember the part where he washes himself away, so that he doesn't actually move, but moves. I'm a Doctor Who fan and I loved the reference, but yeah, quite limiting, especially with how they have to travel some time between bases and you can't know if someone is spying on you from afar.

Hm, you could say keeping it a secret is like if everyone was a boogeyman or well, playing a game of mafia. I do remember that a few times others were able to guess the task, but if they wanted to help the person, they played a game of crocodile, not being able to say anything outright, just imply.

To me a lot of tasks felt opposingly team uniting. With how Bdubs task started the whole Mounder thing. And then Joel's task (the cult one) brought Mounders even closer in a way, pft. And sometimes guessing the task incorrectly spawned an event, like almost the entire server hanging out at Pearl's mound base. Also Pearl helping Bdubs and Mumbo with their tasks (dragon, cursed tower). So yeah, I love Matchbox and Mailbox.

Out of context, but i remember people (CCs as their characters and the fans) were saying that Mounders aren't loyal and will fall apart or something. And in the end, Mumbo started to act as a red and tried to kill his teammates a few times, but they still accepted him. You can tell I love Mounders, tho all the other teams were great. The dog boys had such a fun dynamic, them often going to talk to BigB or Scar and having silly interactions together. To me the Bamboozlers flow so well from Secret Life: the winner, the unlucky and the loser /affectionate, they're definitely my favorite team that happened in Wild Life. Pearl and Mumbo would have fitted in with them too, all a little bit pathetic.

I agree with the love island team point? They are such a fun team up and there could have been more. Definitely the fact that BigB started as a loner because of his task and leaned into the backrooms creature vibe made it seem like he had to play two different characters at a time? Perhaps, that is not what you're talking about, but people were suspicious that BigB won't stay loyal and is more by himself, but they trusted each other. I don't fully remember the moment, but I think Skizz made someone think that he believes that BigB is a traitor, but then turned on them instead. Or this is memories connecting wrong bits. I don't joke about having troubles rewatching stuff, even when I love it.

Oh, yeah. Mine is all subjective and personal heaven, which I know is flawed, but I see the good and the bad bits and enjoy it as a whole, like you are with Wild Life. I am not a Third Life lover 😔 It's good, but if I'm ranking it, it will go to the bottom (all cause Pearl wasn't in it /hj)

Yes! It all felt like wacky cartoon episodes, which to me is a high praise, as I love Adventure Time and other episodic shows with an overarching plot. Again with my hyperfixation, Pearl died a lot, she literally had the first death on the server (i am replying as I am reading or else I'll forget my thoughts, but you mentioned it and we kinda divided on it? I agree, but also I can excuse it. It's brutal and unfair, but it did help others avoid the same fate. This is also a point in the: I think they should have given themselves more time to test the wildcards, because it feels like a thing you could fix, if found). But it was all because of a part of a mechanic of a wildcard that has not been found out before, which she immediately shares with her teammates. The opportunity to play around and find a way to work the wildcard in your favor or at least to not die from it is amazing. It just felt dissapointing, when people were trying out ways to have an advantage over snails in a way and got punshed for persisting and being curious (the inconsistency of when the snail jumps in your face. I know it's like 3 blocks but some were closer or farther, and with Pearl's second death potentially being caused by Aussie ping). I understand that if there was a way to battle snails completely, everyone would have gotten rid of them in the first hour and there is no more wildcard. But the whole point of an immortal snail is that you get some advantage (money in the original case) and you can figure out things to feel at least somewhat safer.

I would have said that making each snail have their own thing to slow them down/make them stop for a moment and have some cool down for that effect is too much, but they made a whole superpower wildcard so.. It's different but something lesser, like being able to feed them a certain somewhat rare item to slow them could be cool? Idk if the range could allows it, but if you can click on snail with an item (like feeding a dog a steak) and not get it jump on your face immediately. There is a possibility of no one even figuring that out especially if the items are too rare, but at least there would have been something? For Bdubs to feed his snail a clock and make it slower or stop for a certain amount of time with a cooldown (you would have a moment to breath, but you might also forget about it, so it's still a risk). I just feel like they are smart enough to flesh it out more, and I never fully understood why they put such a harsh time limit on themselves. They were most likely concepting wildcards for longer, but when you actually get the moving snail and test it out, you might have to fix some issues and if it's too close to deadline, you'll just have to give up on a good idea.

I know that if you are creating a big time sinking project, you have to organize and pay every person who is involved in the creation, so extending the time frame or the complexity, would have upped the cost significantly. I read some comment about how they could have made a whole series out of each of the wildcard, and I am on the side that having a new thing each week is a cool concept. The only part I do agree is the superhero wildcard. I just think a superhero life series (or maybe a sibling series) could be genuinely fun. Am a sucker for AUs.

Snails were very cute and funny, but they were undeniably too much. They had to stop the session earlier and all the CCs were exhausted by the end of it. You can see how the death count skyrockets because of snail, and the balancing by giving players 6 lives worked out i guess, but them ending early means if it wasn't stopped, there could have been even more deaths or even a first person to get out of the series in session 3(4?).

And final deaths are supposed to be at least somewhat tragic or emotional (in a funny or sad way). Skizz's and Mumbo's final deaths were cool, but Gem, Impulse, BibB, Scar died in a less fair(?) way. And Grian knows how important it can be to get out of a series in a satisfying end, Jimmy and Lizzie dying was sad, but epic and he helped to achieve that.

Okay, that's a fair point. I was afraid of getting into life series, because it felt like there were so many people and all had their own unique storyline. To me, I just accepted that I will get information about their videos secondhand, and if it intrigues me, I would go and watch the episode myself. I am happy that it was enjoyable for you and easier to engage with.

Big groups feel clanky to me in a way that everybody is trying to help the team, but when you have to listen to so many people at once, it becomes either a corporate meeting or a hangout at the loud bar. I do understand the appeal of a bigger group interacting, but I always feel like a lot more people get talked over and if there is no enemy, there is no conflict and there is no one to fight? A lot of times people were trying to mention who they were enemies with and it consisted of "hmh, we are kinda okay with them, and them too, and them". To which, Secret life didn't have that much outright betrayal or enemies, it was kinda more sitcom-ey. There were a lot of rivals, not enemies. In wild life it feels like there are almost no evemies and no rivals. Even bringing up the Impossible Minecraft, it's a smaller series, but there is a collaborative process, so big groups are encouraged, because there is no competition (the winners and placements don't actually mean much in the same way as MCC or similar stuff does obviously. It's all more about people creating a narrative and a story).

I do think Scar is a pretty good player, just unlucky at times. He did win by his own strength in Secret Life and got to the end in Third Life (while being the first one to go down to red and so early), he and Grian also being the 4th(?) soulmates to die and it was Grian who died, I'm pretty sure. You might not be implying that, I just dislike when people kinda dismiss his achievements.

I also enjoyed the Gs. The only thing I have a beef is that Tango was hanging around them at the start and I was so hoping for him to join them, tho the Tuff guys is also cool. I do find it funny how Gem and Pearl exchanged teammates from last time.

This all is a toll on anyone and when you have to organize and also be involved in the project, where your friends's income partially depends on you and you have to try to cater to them and to the viewers all at once. And well, when you see your friend so exhausted and trying so much to make you enjoy the series, I think it would feel brutal to complain about anything. They're friends and I don't know how they interact behind the scenes, but I would never want to upset my friend over something like that. Of course, if someone didn't vocalize their concerns, it's partially on them for doing so, but it's understandable. There is a part of me that wants Grian to delve more into different series, and with Impossible Minecraft, it seems like something he had in mind? Fans like to find parallels and will always compare previous seasons, so anything new will be met with a bigger criticism. Impossible Minecraft didn't capture everyone's attention, but I still feel it got good reviews and players seem to enjoy it. There is a difference that even through you can analyze CCs as characters, it is definitely much less roleplay and more survival. Not everyone found it appealing, but people also weren't compelled to compare it to life series, because it is distinctly different and we got both traffic and it. If Grian makes more of completely different series with no overarching expectations or limitations, it could be cool. Some people might be angry that they have to wait for a new life series season longer because of it, but it's not like we were ever really promised it and even if we were, he can decide to not go forth with it, if he wants to, it is his project. Idk if all my blank suggestions or ideas are out of place, but I very much love all the CCs and wouldn't want for any of them to get burned out and not participate in the life series or other projects.

I completely understand and agree with your whole last paragraph. Mine is similar, just replace Wild Life with Secret life. And I still enjoyed a lot of Wild Life, and I do have my own criticism of the Secret Life. I do understand people voicing and sharing their complaints, and not all should be like, thought out essay. Sometimes you watch a movie and find it meh, but can't put it into words. People not wanting to give Wild Life or any season a chance for whatever personal reason is understandable. Grian and others are still content creators and have to take into account a criticism of a casual viewer, which most of their viewers consist of I would think. But that's kinda why still discussing those things in the fandom is important. How would Grian know what we want to see, if he can only see the passerby viewer say "meh, not the same" and nothing else. Being afraid to hurt the CC can lead to it either way, when fans lose the interest and stop watching at all. It's not that Wild Life was horrible, it's that a lot of fans felt unheard. I assume that when you are making content for a long time, it can become stale and samey and you might lose confidence of if your content is actually good or not. They became CCs, because they wanted to share something that people would love, so hearing back is useful. When you start to see anycritisism as hate, it makes fans not want to share their thoughts and CCa are left one on one with angry/indifferent redditors (idk how bad reddit is, never used it besides googling weird things).

Idk where Grian saw that fans didn't want for him and Scar to team up, most fans love their dynamic. I do know some were complaining about the sameness of the teams, like the 3Gs. But some simply called 3G toxic, which is not completely untrue and doesn't mean they disliked the team? They have a very complicated history and that's the fun part of them trying to rebuild this. It's unrealistic for them to just forget everything and forgive. You can say that you forgive, but that doesn't automatically rewrite how you feel about it. There was a great episode in Amphibia that ended with the main character Anne forgiving a side character Hop Pop, but in the next episode Anne and Hop Pop are being weird and it escalates into a fight. There were still things unsaid and Anne just bottled everything up to try to move away from the situation, they needed more talk and more time to truly understand and forgive. I know that I reference a scripted cartoon show and Life Series is not a scripted play, but it is a roleplay for a lot of CCs, and dnd shows how improvisation can create great narrativess. It wouldn't be a death series without all the drama and all the betrayals and complicated relationships.

I hope this ask won't get killed by Tumblr, idk what's the word limit and how it works in general. I also reread it just once, sorry for any inconsistencies. Thank you for your time!

Hey! Sorry that it took so long for me to respond, but this was a really long ask that I had to break down paragraph by paragraph, which isn’t a bother! It just means that it takes me a little longer to respond to.

The problem that I had with the tasks was when tasks were too hard or had players do something consistently throughout the episode that didn’t really make their episode much more interesting. For example, I loved the concept of Etho’s weeping angel task. I’m also a Doctor Who fan! It’s just, yeah. It was difficult for him to enforce when in an open space. If the tasks were consistently like that, then I wouldn’t care as much, but it felt unfair for some people to be able to progress with more freedom than others. It wasn’t that big of an issue, of course. It’s just a little pet peeve.

As a com sci major, oh my gosh I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to program all of those wild card in such a short amount of time, especially the ones that were only decided upon in response to episodes (I believe the quiz bot was originally a scrapped wild card but was then brought back to the workshop last minute in response to players’ performances, but I may be misremembering).

I totally recognize that players still found ways to help each other, I just wish out of preference that there was a way for them to have been a little freer with their firm factions. I know that such a rule would be difficult to make concrete decisions on, but I know that Impulse felt disappointed that he didn’t get much of a chance to get to know Scott as a teammate. I don’t think that it was a bad decision. After all, it is called Secret Life. I just wish I could’ve seen certain teams loosen up a little more around each other. You raise a good point about the Mounders, though! They were a really great team. It’s just a shame that other teams weren’t able to communicate with each other as subtly yet effectively as the Mounders. Honestly, I’m not sure why people insist that a team will fall apart before that team shows signs of falling apart. Each season is a fresh start. While there may be history, each person still chooses whether or not to let that go.

God, someone PLEASE make BigB the leader of a big team. I need to observe his behavior in such a role. It's for science.

Third Life isn't at the top of my list either! There's definitely parts of it that I loved, but there were also parts that I was personally frustrated with. It’s not anyone’s fault at all. It’s just a matter of preference. It also totally gets a pardon due to it being the first ever season, but that doesn’t necessarily win it more points in my heart.

Pearl’s first death, I totally excuse it too. I didn’t mean to come off as if I disagree with the decision to keep it in. It’s a game mechanic and all. It just felt like such an unlucky “first to find out” situation, but that's part of the game. As for the snails, Grian didn’t intend for this to be an easy wild card. He expected more player deaths than normal, though he did say that there were still more than he expected. However, he also said that he had a moment where he considered using the Quizbot to gift back lives and decided not to. He wanted players to really feel the cost of each life. It’s a decision that he’s very firm about, and I respect that. I will say that the players who died significantly more than other players had a lot of deaths that were simply careless. There were of course many deaths that were the cost of an experiment or were just so terribly unfortunate (double Bdubs death), but I think a lot of deaths were from not keeping an eye on their snail (Scar gets a pass because his snail was literally turned invisible by other players). Here’s the thing. The problem that many players experimenting with the snails had was that they were experimenting with their own snail. Jimmy is a great example of someone who did NOT experiment with his own snail very much, despite his crazy number of deaths. Most of Jimmy’s snail experiments were done on other people’s snails, and he learned a lot from testing on them. In other words, there were ways to test on the snails that were much less risky, especially if you have a friend helping you.

The feeding the snails to slow them down is a really cool idea! I just don’t know if it would be worth the risk of getting close to your snail nor do I think that the players would have figured out that they could feed their snails, especially if the required items are player specific. I think that it would be a really really cool concept for a longer series or just snails, but it doesn’t work well for only one episode. Grian could’ve told people, of course, but Grian was already telling people quite a bit about the snails and he evidently would have trouble remembering what each snail eats (he couldn’t remember assigned superpowers even though not even everyone had an assigned superpower. I don’t blame him, though. I can’t remember people’s names ten minutes after meeting them, and I can’t throw stones in glass houses).

I would TOTALLY be down for a whole season of superpowers. I thought the superpowers were so so so cool. I do find it weird that someone commented that they could make a whole season out of each wild card when so many people said that the wild cards were boring. I don’t think that would go well in terms of viewership.

I understand finding the snails to be too much, but every creator we know of said that the snails were fun, even if they were stressful. After the snail episode, Grian very urgently checked in with everyone more so than usual, and, according to Impulse, Grian, Martyn, and Skizz, everyone found the snail episode to be a lot of fun. I don’t think that the snails were too much, because everyone had fun and got a great episode out of it. Additionally, due to how long the season surprisingly ended up being, I worry that trying to make the wild cards safer might have resulted in a longer season than the cast was hoping. They typically try to keep the seasons to 8-9 episodes, and Wild Life hit that quota despite the number of people saying that it would definitely be the shortest season ever (which is a little strange considering Double Life was only 6 episodes long, and I doubt that Wild Life ever even looked like it would only be 5 episodes long what with so many people having all of their 6 lives for so long). All in all, I don’t think that the players minded a shorter session when they all got an exciting normal length episode.

I absolutely understand being disappointed in some of the final deaths, but that’s not really a concept that’s new to Wild Life. I mean, while Grian’s final death in Limited Life was thematically cool, it would’ve been pretty anti-climactic without Jimmy’s death. It’s something that happens, and I’ve made my peace with that, especially with how exciting everyone’s life was to me. Of course, I understand that all of that is a matter of personal preference.

I’m glad that you understand my perspective on having an easier time staying caught up. I’ve been watching Minecraft YouTubers for a long time, and I was a big fan of particular big groups. I’m pretty used to hearing them talk over each other and didn’t really think about how that was absolutely a matter of personal history of enjoying hearing 6-10 people in the same call all of the time. I’m sorry to hear that it was more frustrating for you, and I totally understand feeling like there was less content in Wild Life and that the content that was available felt socially clunkier. I hope the next seasons are more your taste!! I got my fair share of what I wanted :)

I understand what you mean about feeling like there were no enemies, but I interpreted that as feeling as though there was no specific enemy (other than everyone vs the family) because most teams had wronged people pretty equally. There was definitely enemies and rivalries, they were just more player specific than team specific, which I understand is unusual for the Life Series. Impulse vs Gem was a pretty big rivalry, as was, of course, Grian vs the Bamboozlers, particularly vs Scar. Mumbo vs Scott was a weirdly spawned in rivalry. I don’t know why Mumbo latched onto that so hard, but I respect him for committing to the bit like that. Another rivalry, which was mostly a result of miscommunication, was Scar vs the Tuff Guys. See, and this is the most insane looney toons incident in the series, Bdubs pretended to do something “tuff” to the Bamboozlers so that Tango and Etho would think he was tuff. Then, Etho actually did something “tuff” to the Bamboozlers, which Scar got payback for by burning down Tango’s base. Tango then got revenge by attacking ALL of the Bamboozlers’ parrots. In other words, I don’t really think that there were fewer enemies and rivalries. I think that the relationships between individual players were just insanely more convoluted. The only team vs team enemies who I can really think of were the Spanners vs the Gs. Grian really wanted to eliminate the try hards who were stronger in numbers (though, as Scott has said, larger groups don’t often do better in the Life Series). The whole thing was like watching a drama series. I really loved it, but I totally understand how it’s a lot more confusing compared to past seasons, where enemies are more straightforward and agreed upon within teams. The problem was that players were having a lot of personal beef with each other but then projecting that onto the other player’s whole team, who hadn’t been told about this beef and is then confused when told that something is wrong. The Gs and the Family were a little better at communicating between each other, but that didn’t mean that they always entirely agreed on how to deal with the issue. As for the storyline and collaboration points, I totally understand wanting that. I think I gave Wild Life a lot more grace, because every episode was like a first episode, where everyone is still helping each other navigate the new gimmick. That’s a part that I, personally, really enjoy about first episodes. This is much less a rebuttal against your point and more of a “this is how I understood it in the moment and a matter of my personal enjoyment, and I absolutely understand if it wasn’t for you”.

Oh I definitely agree that Scar’s a great player! I think he doesn’t really pick up on new situations as quickly, but, once he has it, he’s mastered it. He’s also just a generally skilled player. That man is INSANE in combat. Who taught him how to fight like that. It’s so strange when people say that Scar isn’t a “real” winner. Winners may statistically be more likely to rise from smaller teams, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easiest to get to the finale all by yourself, especially when you have as many enemies as Scar did that season.

I also love the Gs and the Tuff Guys, but GOD I understand what you mean. I’ve been dying for Tango to team up with new people, particularly Scott, for AGES. I want more Snowbugs content. Please, Mr. Smajor, PLEASE team up with different Hermits. I love every single one of Scott’s teams and dynamics, but I’m so eager to see him interact with people we don’t often get to see him hang out with.

I understand what you mean about not wanting to hurt your friends feelings, but Grian specifically requested criticism from each player after every session. There are of course so many ways to go about this situation, and no one way is necessarily the “correct” way to deal with it every time, but, if my friend was asking for criticism, I would want to help them feel as though they have improved their project as much as they are ready to. I’m not saying that I would complain or criticize or be harsh, but expressing an honest opinion about your own experience is so so so critical during game development. This is particularly critical in the Hermitcraft community when Hermits ask other Hermits for criticism. Grian in particular likes honest constructive criticism when he asks for it.

I absolutely agree about wanting to see a variety of series. While I understand that it doesn’t always do as well as their main content, I find it really exciting to see my favorite creators in new situations with different goals and expectations.

When I get upset about people sharing their complaints about Wild Life, I absolutely do not mean people who have real complaints about how the game operates or how it played out. Everyone is entitled to their preferences. What I mean is people who blatantly commented on Grian’s videos stuff like “Grian, these wild cards are boring” and “how is this an episode” or tweeted at him about how they hate Wild Life but didn’t have anything constructive to say about it. There were a lot of comments like this on Jimmy’s Instagram too, and that just sucks. If you have something like that to say about someone’s project that they’re so passionate about, there are more appropriate places to do so. Do I expect Twitter and YouTube comment sections to be free of hate? Absolutely not. However, people need to recognize that Grian doesn’t go on Twitter and YouTube looking for those types of criticisms. The kind of hate that pops up on Twitter and YouTube is so common that a lot of seasoned creators tend to be rather unbothered by hate on those platforms to the point where they skip over genuine criticism. Reddit would’ve probably been a more appropriate and effective platform for constructive criticism when trying to communicate your opinion with people like Grian, who don’t use Tumblr and have been on Twitter and YouTube for too long to take those kinds of comments into consideration.

The Grian and Scar thing was almost entirely Twitter and YouTube. While there are definitely people on Twitter and YouTube who LOVE Scarian, they’re also the platforms that are most concentrated with Scarian haters. It’s really tumblr with a denser population of Scarian fans, but Grian doesn’t get his feedback from tumblr, especially when tumblr and hermittwt are a lot more shy than haters tend to be.

Here's the thing about the Gs. A lot of people were insisting that the Gs were going to break up because “Cleo and Scott always betray Pearl”. This is not true. Scott’s history with Pearl is more complicated, but Scott had a good reason to not want to team with Pearl again. He couldn’t communicate this very well in character, but Scott literally could not be her teammate again, not after he just won Last Life with just Pearl as his teammate for a majority of the season. In other words, Scott didn’t really feel significant negativity towards Pearl until she started acting crazy, which Scott isn’t entirely at fault for. He wasn’t neutral in the matter, but it would be unfair to blame it entirely on him when Martyn immediately abandoning Pearl despite being in the same situation as her, Scar and Ren pushing the “5AM Pearl” character, and, of course, the fact that it was 5AM for her are all fairly equal contributions to the way Pearl decided to present herself. Additionally, Pearl chose to forgive Scott immediately after he blew himself up, which isn’t to say that frustration and resentment can’t ever resurface, especially if the event was particularly traumatic, but Pearl and Scott both gave themselves a whole lot of time to reconcile with what happened and come to forgive each other. It’s also not something that either of them ever bring up, spitefully or not. They’ve never held Double Life against each other even as enemies, and it’s not something they hold against each other when they have disagreements as allies. As for Cleo, Cleo has never betrayed Pearl. Has Cleo been enemies with Pearl, sure! But never when Pearl was ever entitled to Cleo’s loyalty by any means. The Gs was the first time where Cleo and Pearl were on the same team for the whole season, and it's not like Cleo betrayed Pearl during Last Life either. I genuinely believe that there’s an excess of attention on Cleo and Pearl hurting each other because they’re both women in a male-dominated space, because they haven’t been crueler to one another than would be expected of people on different teams. It’s kind of like saying that Scar and Lizzie are a bad team because Lizzie hated Scar in Secret Life, when what we were seeing in Wild Life didn’t show significant evidence of that grudge.

Were the Gs toxic? That’s up to interpretation, but I don’t think it deserved the amount of backlash some people gave it without criticizing other teams. I once made a post about Mumbo “manipulating” Skizz and Grian in the same way that Smajor haters claim that Scott is “manipulative”. I DO NOT believe in what I said about Mumbo. The point of the post was explicitly to show what the narrative looks like on someone who gets way less hate for behaving the same way or “worse”, and I do state that at the end of the post. The Tuff Guys, too, were SO messy. They could rarely agree on anything and almost always resorted to insults, but that wasn’t the result of people who hate each other. That’s the result of people who love each other so so so much and trust each other to know when they do and don’t mean things and to feel safe bringing it up if a line was crossed. I mean, no matter how much Tango and Bdubs insulted and rolled their eyes at Etho or were mockingly offended by his comments, the only time they acted properly upset with him was when they found out that they might not be his priority team (and they didn’t even know about the team he was actually loyal to in the end!). In that same sense, Scott, Pearl, and Cleo are best friends who love each other so much. Their friendship is apparently strong enough to withstand tough breaks in that relationship. It’s one thing to say that you like a team and interpret their dynamic as antagonistic, but it’s another to actually get mad at the actual Scott and Cleo for “teaming up with Pearl to manipulate her”, which was such a common kind of post that I was seeing throughout the first several weeks of Wild Life.

Your ask did not get killed by tumblr! I’m starting to think there may not be a character limit on these things. I copy asks and write out responses in Google docs cause it’s more convenient to access when I have time, and this ask was 5 pages long in 12 point font 1.15 spacing. Whatever kills asks, it’s not word count. Thank you for the ask! I love long asks :D And thank you for your patience! My housing situation has been... weird. I'm not in danger of losing my place or anything; it's just been over-complicated and slow to progress.

[fordtato]

Hiiii, ever since I read Jersey Boy in July-August of last year, I haven't stopped thinking about it for a single day. I love the way you write both Ford and Fiddleford. 😭😭😭

I was wondering what the relationship between Fiddleford and Stanley might be like...

On one hand, I'm starting to think they might get along really well... or on the other, not very well.

Thanks for your great fics and videos, I love them! <3

Howdy, sorry for answering this so late! Thank you so much for reading, and I appreciate the kind ask!!!

In canon, I can see young Fiddleford and Stan getting along in this "opposites attract" sort of way, where Fidds is a bit more neurotic and considers himself morally upstanding, where Stan is more boisterous and messy haha. Are you asking about Fiddleford and Stan's relationship in Jersey Boy specifically? I imagine that this version of Fidds and Stan are both cut from the same cloth, in a way. They both are characters who wanted to get out of a bad situation, who dreamed of bigger things, and ultimately (in Jersey Boy, at least) overcompensate for their shortcomings with these grand motions, these big elaborate schemes.

But there is still the tension of the situation in which they are interacting haha.

[puddlestories]

An Unusual Situation (18+)

Four x GN/ Male Reader (no gendered pronouns or description)- Four is short, therefore Reader is taller, written from the pov of Four's body

Idea: during the duration of a body swap AU, cursed by a corrupted wizzrobe, you enter into a precarious situation, awaking with an erection, in respect for Four and embarrassment you hide away hoping for it to go away, but maybe Four can help.

CW: sexual content, sub-top Four, dom to sub Four, semi-dominant reader, blowjobs, no penetration, sexual acts within another's body- main warning: the reader's pov is written with a penis, they are in a body swap AU, please keep this in mind my fellow lads need more content.

8k words; not proof-read

When you first entered Hyrule you never thought you’d even experience anything too exciting in comparison to the games or stories, you’d probably just have to create an identity, find someone kind enough to let you stay at an inn or tavern until you could pay for a bed, work off that debt or trade a bed for chores and just get a start to a proper job to work your way forward. You didn’t know what the economy was like here, maybe you’d never afford a house, though your knowledge from your playthrough of Breath of the Wild gave you the idea that houses were usually built and not so much bought, probably passed down through families; if broke amnesiac Link could buy and upgrade a house then maybe you could too, if the wages were good enough to save, at least.

Luckily, or not so lucky depending on your perspective, you didn’t have to worry too long-term about finding a job nor checking out the housing market since you were discovered after a single month by a group of armed men, though not mercenaries one told you once, now known to you as Legend.

It was coincidence really, you’d found a lovely lady by the name of Emma who had allowed you to stay at her inn seeing as how you’d stated you had, quite literally, nowhere else to go, and she wasn’t so cruel as to let you be homeless, for a trade or you completing chores and tasks around the inn, that is. Since Emma worked the front desk as a clerk, you luckily didn’t have to interact with too many people, though you did have the occasional encounter whilst helping clean rooms or tightening room hinges or cleaning the windows, corridors and such. You really didn’t mind talking to people too much since it seemed most Hylians were quite private, or loners was probably more accurate, staying in smaller groups or alone, not many visiting the inn aside from merchants and the occasional adventurer travelling from town to town, apparently quite a distance one told you, the nearest town over a desert. Merchants were the ones most likely to talk, mostly trying to peddle their own wears from distant lands or of great powers, you doubted that, but they’d also tell you stories or give you ideas of how the economy may work, what was common to see and not etcetera. Adventures on the other hand were simply a nice conversation of what great sites to see, the names of towns and campfire stories of legends and folklore within Hyrule, sometimes even beyond when you met a young blond man, claiming to be on a holiday.

Your most interesting companion who stayed at the inn was a young lady, only wishing to stay temporarily whilst she also found a home, roughly in her early 40s though she held the aura of someone much older, with many years of experience, her hair a bright vibrant blue, though never said her name- this lady was the one who told you such interesting stories of Goddesses, villains and heroes, the stories captivating you.

You didn’t think you’d actually ever meet said heroes, especially not whilst they were visiting around Castle Town, on their way to a smith outside of the town’s borders, asking about monsters which bled black blood. At first, they’d only spoken to Emma, thinking she was the only one within the small building of the Happy Hearth Inn, until you’d stumbled around a corner having just descended the staircase, a large box cradled in your hands and rested against your chest the weight rocking you slightly backwards- this was your introduction to the chain of Links, especially to poor Twilight who you bumped into, eyes not able to peak fully over the large box in your arms. With a stuttered apology, the box only saved from falling by an extra pair of hands sliding underneath the cardboard, worn by farmwork, you managed to place down the box carefully, the new wood panels Ms Emma had ordered safe and unrattled.

It wasn’t even instantly that the chain recognised your significance, spending another week within town, two days at the smith and the remaining week walking around town for information and patrolling the nearby woods. They had asked you previously, not the same day as the box incident, you having ran away after a flustered apology to continue grabbing and moving boxes for the upcoming lobby reservation, needing new wooden floors and a coat of fresh paint. Instead, they questioned you on their seventh day in town, finding you during one of your errand trips to the market, a small woven basket of plucked apples and soil covered carrots within, yet to be fully stocked with produce.

At first, they spoke of the monsters, whether there had been any increased sighting or any that you had seen at all, even speaking of whether you had seen anything suspicious with any villagers or travellers that had passed through considering your experience within the inn. It was only after a subtle explanation of how you weren’t really from around Castle Town or had much experience in the area to know of the usual number of monsters nor knowing villagers well enough to give any judgement, that they asked where you were from. A partial normal curiosity and a slight suspicion combined, though no true harm or judgement of you. This is when you, unable to continue answering detailed in-depth questions, finally had to, more like accidentally, reveal of how you’d only really appeared in Hyrule due to an unknown portal that had taken you from your own world, the latter part of your own world only revealed due to further questioning and concern of wanting to help take you home if they were able.

With such an admission they return to the rest of the group at their designated location of the town entry by the bell just before sundown, politely asking you join them for their discussion, which later consisted of whether it was safer to bring you along with them through future portals. Mostly they questioned of whether you were simply (not so simply) dimensionally misplaced, an accident so to say, however so far there was zero evidence of that over their own year of travelling, most likely meaning there was no such mistake; that and whether an enemy would possibly hunt you down or whether they had already been trying and you’d simply slipped under their radar.

Either way, it was decided, with your permission and a thank you to Emma for her kindness and a warning of your departure, that you’d be leaving with them.

It only took six months for chaos to take hold. You’d been between worlds, seen beautiful sites, hiked all over Hyrule and formed a good friendship with all of your boys, and even something more with your closest companion Four, an interesting man to say the least. Yet it was with said man that you were now in an extremely strange situation, a situation which involved you both currently being within each other’s bodies, learning that he held a secret of having four other people within his head, pun very much intended apparently, as well as his friend who went by the, less of a pun and more of a statement, name Shadow.

Being within another person’s body was already chaotic enough, but returning to camp after a very cursed wizzrobe attack was another form of chaos, the chain going wild over the situation.  Naturally they asked many questions, how you both felt, what had happened, if you both were okay, and so on. After confirming that you were both okay and in good health despite the switch, all injuries being tret within the group from the previous battle and camp fully set up, did those with magic experience begin to search for a fix to your dilemma.

Legend, Hyrule and Time were your best bets at finding out what magic was used against you, whether it was a curse, or a corrupted spell was the first question they needed to answer to help the reversal process. A slight mention, overheard from Legend since he wasn’t actually talking directly to you, that a curse may make this situation more permanent did scare you slightly. It’s not that you’d exactly mind being in Four’s body, the man was attractive after all, but the idea of not being yourself anymore did scare you a bit. Though you had faith that the group would be able to help you both, even if it took time.

Though being in a different body did cause some issues:

If you’re a woman, then suddenly being in a man’s body is one way to quickly become dysphoric, but worst of all: needing to pee. You’d tried to hold it for as long as possible, but it was beginning to become apparent that it was going to take more than a couple days for even just the magic research before they could even begin testing spells themselves. Suddenly having different equipment where you need to sit differently, feel different as you walk, having to have a so lightly wider stance and the centre of gravity in your body being shifted is nothing compared to the embarrassment of that first night where you have to pee. At first you try be subtle, a want to ask but a need to not embarrass yourself, it couldn’t be too different you’d just have to… hold it, and that was the issue, maybe you could just pee and crouch, worth a try- until the captain called out to you that you couldn’t go alone into the forest so late, the sun due to set in about an hour; that was when you had to explain your situation. With his face darkened in a blush Four nodded in understanding, not saying a word, the captain simply chuckled and shook his head, telling you to return soon. You’ve never been more embarrassed over something so simple and natural.

If you’ve a trans man, the euphoria that you can have this experience, even if post-surgery just those slight differences of a biological body vs a produced and tailored one so to say. If the chain knows you as a man, as they should, there is zero embarrassment nor judgement here (they had protected Wild and Four previously from discrimination by those who were small minded, a very, very small few for being too womanly simply for their longer hair), then there would be no questions of you going into the woods, even if it takes a minute for them to process that you possibly don’t have the same parts in some cases. It just truly doesn’t click for them, it’s just natural. For all my trans women out there, it’s unfortunately just another day but a different outfit, unless you’re also post-surgery then it’s dysphoria all over again- hopefully the longer hair and shorter stature help you out a bit, being able to dress up how you wish, shop keepers not even turning an eye, also don’t even worry about Four’s smith muscles, there are plenty of buff women in Hyrule, plenty of farmers and working women- you fit right in and look lovely as you do.

In Four’s case, no matter your gender nor sex, this man was raised with far too many manners and a wonderful sense of responsibility to be a gentleman; in other words, for the first couple hours his hands were practically raised from his sides, avoiding touching any part of himself like opposing magnets. He later explained, once you’d asked nicely, that he simply didn’t want to touch you and make you uncomfortable, wanting to keep your privacy and dignity, a true gentleman not touching another without a great bond and permission (in this case, just your permission). It was very cute. With a sweet, cute peck to his cheek, you give all the permission he needs to be able to relax and act like a normal person, or at least as normal as possible, him refusing to do any weapon work aside from cleaning the blades, not wanting to scar or damage your skin with the possible chemicals and sharp blades.

Putting all of that aside, you both were able to continue on mostly as normal, a lack of surprise monster attacks a blessing to you both, though the others would sometimes plan quests out to sighted monster camps leaving you both in charge of protecting camp or to explore town if within one to continue to collect information or supplies.

That was what had occurred yesterday, the group had begun to set up plans to destroy a nearby monster camp, usually left alone but becoming too close to the town and surrounding farmland. Weapons were prepared and sharpened by their owners, the quality looked over by Four as he was able, arrows purchased from a local vendor and bow strings tightened, Wild and Twilight designated as their cover from afar, strategized to take out any monster lookout towers whilst the others focused on melee and magic. Preparations were made the night before to ensure everyone and everything was ready, as well as to ensure that the group could be well rested before the attack.

The next, and current morning, you and Four were to remain at an inn, the magic of your switch still in full effect.

The sun was still low in the sky, painted a deep red, darkened blue and fascinating purple, the colours wavering together, blending together in places and contrasting into a sharp line in others, the clouds laid in lace above. With the creaking of stiff joints, slight yawns and huffs, the dull zip of leather belts and slight clink of armour, the other men awoke and prepared themselves for the day ahead, already estimated to last late into the night, the camp close to the town but far from the inn deep within the borders. Far from their current position, it would take the group at least a few hours to travel to their required location, another hour of surveillance to ensure the plan was still applicable, then the ongoing battle- with that and the return home, they would be gone for almost a full day, the sun low on their return, possibly even the moon taking it’s place.

With concern for their, most likely, late return you had made the suggestion of them taking their camping gear along with them, a slight burden of extra gear but a good idea in case they were required to camp after the battle if the moon rose too high, or to even have to camp outside an extra day if the plan needed to be adjusted. Their safety was much more important than possibly any other time wasted; it wouldn’t be the first time that they’d had to sleep outside with a looming danger, but this time, they would have safety in numbers and weapons prepared for battle.

When they awoke to leave, at first you’d only half woken, still sleepy and eyes partially closed, watching them get ready was like a wavering dream, your head light and body heavy, only being able to remain awake due to the high pitch of the clinking armour. Once they’d all finally left, with one sleepy call of a good luck, you fell back asleep.

It was the second time you awoke that put you in this situation. Everything was normal, the silence of the inn, not many rooms booked the man at the desk had said when you all first arrived, Four’s small snores now much less harsh that he was in your body though still making you wonder if you snored, the slight scratch and pull of the blankets on your skin, having slept in just an undershirt and shorts, feeling far too warm but still obeying the most basic of Hylian decency standards for the other’s sake. It was with that pull of blankets and curling of your leg that you felt what wasn’t normal, your feet felt colder than usual, despite the thick blanket over them, and your crotch felt hot and tight. Another shuffle and you understood, you felt something press with the movement of your leg, as it rose higher to pull yourself in a sitting position you hissed with the delicate touch, the, now visible, bulge revealed from under the covers.

With a few ticks of time, brain whirling into a cohesive thought, you blanched in horror- you had an erection, Four had an erection, you were currently Four. You didn’t know what to do.

Did you touch it? It should go down on it’s own, right? Morning wood as some call it was completely natural for boys and men alike, was simply the body being weird, everyone has weird moments, there shouldn’t be shame in that. But by the Goddess you held far too much shame right now, shame stemmed from lots of silent panic. Luckily Four was still asleep, his bedroll two spaces away from yours, Wild and Hyrule having slept between you both.

Maybe if you were quiet, you could simply try go back to sleep and just hope it went away, though that plan quickly went out the, closed, window with shattering glory as Four began to stir awake, low grumbles and mumbles escaping him, shifting onto a shoulder to free the arm he’d been resting on to rub his eyes. That was your only opportunity of escape, you couldn’t get dressed or be in front of Four like this, he’d notice. So, you quickly leapt up, legs slightly numb but able to hold your weight, feet slightly stumbling towards the door of the shared bedroom, trying not to step on and slip on any of the remaining blankets or bedrolls and mats on the floor.

Outside the door you spun to press the wood back into its resting position, the small click of metal returning as the knob released, bringing you a slight comfort that you were now out of his possible eyeline, free form being perceived in any type of negative or even questioning light from the man you respected and like far too much.

Should it have been embarrassing for the man who was maybe, possibly, courting you, who you were current switching bodies with, having seen all positives and negatives of each other, physically and now mentally, to see you aroused, even if unwilling? No. This situation shouldn’t have panicked you so much as to run away, your feet carrying you into a small private bathroom, only a seated bench toilet within, a thin barrier of magic working to keep the tiny closet space clean and odour free, lucky you.

Now, someone running to the toilet early in the morning is probably not too uncommon, which is why no one really checked up on you for a while. In Four’s case he also only really recognised your absence once he’d fully awoken and gotten dressed for the day, his sword left tied securely to his bag and hidden within a wooden wardrobe within the room, once he had notice your absence it’d been fifteen minutes since you’d left the room, then an extra twenty passed as he thought you were maybe getting something to eat since you hadn’t returned from your supposed toilet trip.

After a full hour he went in hunt for you, checking the inn from the front door to the restricted attic stairs: the reception, lobby, kitchen, lounge area, dining area (slightly dusty on the counters), bedrooms (all thankfully empty except one, a young couple who stated they hadn’t seen you, having been in their room all morning), the washrooms, bathrooms and attic being sneaky as to not be caught by the owners if they were to show up. He couldn’t find you. The only room he hadn’t been able to fully check was a small, locked toilet area, having knocked earlier hoping to hear your voice but receiving no answer he left thinking it may be someone else. With his only remaining lead before he’d have to venture outside the inn, he returned to the door, which remained locked.

Another knock and he finally heard your voice, slightly strained and a fumble of words before you managed to compose yourself, “sorry, sorry, this room is occupied!”

“It’s okay, it’s me, Four,” he paused hoping you’d maybe unlock the door, you didn’t, “are you okay, you’ve been gone for over an hour, and considering my search of the inn you’ve been in there for at least ten minutes?”

With that information you froze, brain spluttering and unable to speak for a moment as you tried spin your words back into something comprehensible, something to make sense and make him go away. You needed him to go away considering the fact your problem had also yet to go away, if anything becoming slightly painful, possibly due to stress and your blood pumping hard within your chest. “I’m fine, I just really needed a moment alone.”

“In the toilet?” he retorted, you paused again.

With a laugh you continued on, “yeah, just felt a bit sick, probably ate too much yesterday, too much good food, you know?” You laughed again, extremely awkward, thinking maybe you could disgust him into leaving you alone, you knew he didn’t like the sound of someone being sick, learnt from a night three months into your journey Wind and Warriors both unfortunately coming down with an illness Time mentioned as Gerudo flu, something only seen within his and, apparently, Wild’s worlds despite the time difference, caused by a change in extreme temperatures, he said. That night was awful for everyone, Wind and Warriors confined to a small tent towards the edges of camp, hoping to avoid spreading the illness to those not exposed or resilient to it, especially keeping Hyrule far away within his own small one man tent used for medical cares among the group, owned by Legend, and now used by Hyrule as an isolation pod, not daring to risk him becoming ill, likely immunocompromised from his own world with the lack of vegetation, small settlements and larger monster populations. The two most effected had begun to vomit into the grass and bushes lining the forest, then confined to their tent where they continued into small buckets or pots, later to be deep cleaned and boiled by Wild. You still remember how the sound from the tent, even though muffled, still made Four shiver and gag- to be fair to him the noise also made you salivate, like you too were going to vomit, an uncomfortable feeling deep in your chest and throat.

Instead of a slight shudder and polite wish for you to be well like you expected, instead you had a slightly more aggressive knock to the door, Four’s voice coming through strong and commanding, “you felt ill and didn’t tell anyone, are you okay, what’s wrong, that Wild, I swear, I’m going to talk to him about what h puts in his food.”

You instantly objected, though regrettably couldn’t really come to Wild’s defence just yet in case it made him more determined to come in. “I’m fine, really, I’m not even being sick anymore, I just need some time to feel a bit better; plus, better to be by the toilet rather than accidentally vomit on the floor, right?” you laughed.

It was with a softer, but still firm in his tone, plea from outside that truly broke your heart and tested your mental strength, “please, please let me in, I want to help you, make sure you’re okay, then you can have your time, I’ll even bring you water!”

He was truly too much of a sweetheart for your own poor heart.

You opened the door, but just a crack, you wouldn’t fully cave just yet. “I’m okay,” you reassured again, the words slightly blurring with the number of times you’d said them, hoping they still hold meaning, “I’ll be out soon enough, why don’t you start on some food or some more of that embroidery you were working on? I’ll be there soon enough, just need some time to be a bit more presentable”- now that one wasn’t a lie, unlike the last.

“An hour,” he huffed out your name, “what’s actually going on? Never mind, you know what—” and with that, he placed a hand just above the handle of the door, and pushed.

Startled you were delayed to react, quickly pushing back against the door before placing yourself against it, the harsh force on both sides keeping the wood pinned, a larger gap looking into the small room, but not enough to push his way through.

“Why are you hiding from me, if something’s wrong then tell me, if it was something simple, you’d still be in the bedroom but no, you’re in here!”

With a final shove, human strength coming forth and becoming a challenge for even Four’s muscles forged from years of smithing, he powered through, a gap big enough he could leap forward and place his shoulder and chest within, forcing you to stop pushing, unwilling to hurt him by pushing the door into his body.

Now you wee both standing within the small space, you back pressed into one corner, quickly plucking at your shorts, still partially undressed and in your sleepwear, hoping it’d loosen the tightened fabric, hoping to disguise the bulge. With hopeless regret, you pulled the shirt further down at the front, only slightly covering, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that you had an erection, nor that you were trying to cover anything as then that’d just alert him anyway.

“Are you actually okay, what’s wrong?” he whispered in a harsh voice, like you were both now hidden within your own secret, like anyone was pushed with a ear to the wood of the now closed door.

You couldn’t answer, the throbbing in your groin and heavy pressure in your chest making you far too uncomfortable, your brain becoming blurred, unable to fully think of anything unless properly focused and strained, like reading a book but all the words except the one you were looking at was blurred.

Zero excuses were able to come to your mind, especially those which could make any sense given the situation, “I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes narrowed and lips pursed, stepping forward towards you, only one-half of a step needed to cross the tiny gap, pressing you backwards into a small toiletry shelf, suddenly empty as you accidentally knocked a small perfume bottle from the shelf, luckily landing on your foot and rolling to the side, now stationary against the wall behind Four. You didn’t even feel the pain in your foot, the throbbing overwhelming, like your entire torso was throbbing, an overwhelming heartbeat through your entire body.

You stuttered again, words jumbled and face flushing in embarrassment, Four pushing even closer until you were rested chest to chest, body slightly lifted due to the shelf under your buttocks, toes poised, the height gap slightly decreased. He placed his hands on your hips, palms warm and fingers gripping into soft skin.

Another press, hands running down your sides and one upwards towards your jaw, he reassured you, he wanted to help, “you can trust me, I love you, that means I want to help you, please don’t push me away,” he whispered into your ear, eyes lidded, face deeply flushed. Then, face darkening into a full solid colour, he felt it, his body in full contact with yours.

Face dark and eyes slightly wider, pupils blown wide, he mumbled a slight “oh,” looking down at your bulge, his ears slightly wiggled, Hylian traits coming through despite the swap, lowering and pulled back, the tips flushed.

“Is this why you’re hiding? Did you,” he paused for a moment voiced lowering, “did you do anything?” You knew what he was implying, something he wouldn’t say out loud, not yet, asking if you’d touched yourself. “Did something cause this, if so, the I definitely need to know,” he grinned, eyes swirling a deep green and violet, a sharp blue and red lining the edges in a thin halo.

“No,” you stuttered, trying to prepare yourself to defend yourself, “I just woke up, I didn’t do anything to it, it wouldn’t go away,” you whimpered towards the end as Four pressed even closer, leg raised slightly, the height difference assisting in his actions, thigh placing pressure against your crotch, the throbbing accompanied by a slight tingle.

“Do you know how to fix it?” He grinned wide and wicked, the look on your face, burning with lust and a bubbling desire within his eyes, your eyes, seeing that look honestly sent another tingle through your body, the absurdity of the situation turning you on, a twisting sensation in your pelvis.

You let out a puffed sigh, eyes closing slightly in pleasure, a steady rubbing against your bulge- it felt so good, sending a light warmth between your legs, head radiating into Four’s thigh. “You’re cruel, you know I wouldn’t touch you like that without permission. I trust you, the same as you trust me,” another signed breath, “I wouldn’t leave you exposed in such a way, such an intimate way,” you moaned lightly at the end. “But two can play at that game, mister.”

You ran you hands down his neck, first cupping his face a light kiss to his cheek, and then began to descend, his neck, shoulders, chest, ensuring to run his hands down the lines of your nipples encouraging a shiver, his waist, and then resting on his hips.

Leaning forward to his ear, nose brushing along the soft fat of his cheek, you spoke in a low tone, not yet a whisper but more of a grumbled question, a not so hidden tease, “do all Hylian gentlemen pursue their beloved like this? Do you all corner poor defenceless partners like this, hoping for a sexual encounter within a hidden corner?” You raised your hands back up to his waist, fingers rubbing at the line of your ribs. “What happened to that shy blushing gentleman who wanted to court me gently, to prove his worth? Who’s this charming devil before me,” you hummed, “what a naughty boy you are, to behave in such a way- what would the others think?” you hummed again, a bright grin on your face, hidden by the side of Four’s face lips and nose brushing his ear, cheek and jaw along his own cheek, feeling the heat within.

A small moan from Four was your sign, his head dropping forward onto your shoulder, hair mixing together with your closeness, textures mixing, the feeling intensified with your current rush of blood and hormones.

Pulling away slowly, gently cradling Four’s face, lifting his head to rest your forehead’s together, eyes locked, pupils dilated.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, to the moon and beyond.”

A sweet kiss, lips brushing together, hands gently clasped against cheeks, one sliding behind to cradle his head; his own hands resting against your chest and waist, directly on your pectoral, the occasional brush of his wrist on your sensitive areas jumping in your brain.

With a light squeeze of your chest, you let out a light laugh, securing the position of your hand that was behind his head. “May I?”

“Of course, do whatever you wish, I’m at your command,” he shivered at his own words, legs pushing together slightly, the muscles within his thighs twitching.

Continuing your previous task, you continued to rub a single hand down Four’s side, brushing inwards at his chest, brushing across hidden nipples under thick fabric, and sliding down, brushing along the lines of his pelvis, fingers brushing the tops of his thighs. “Take off your tunic and leggings. I can’t really say we’ll do this proper, but at least we can do part of it considering where we are,” a single look around the cramped space reminding you of the current situation and absurdity- was that door even locked; could someone even enter, the door likely to bump into Four’s back, pushing them back out, unable to open the door.

The though of someone seeing you both, you didn’t know what to think, at the moment you couldn’t really think anyway.

With a ruffle of fabric Four took off his out tunic, only a thinner plain shirt between you, but you paused his hands, simply lifting the fabric, “that other one was too tight, couldn’t get a good feel of you,” you smirked, grabbing a handful of his chest, feeling along his soft skin and perked nipples, overly sensitive with the now loose fabric creating a light brush with certain movements compared to his once pinned clothing from his fitted tunic.

The fabric of his shirt clung at his armpits and crumpled at the collarbone, a single hand holding it up, drooping lower a one side; you leant forward and accepted your prize. You took one between your lips, the skin of your lips slightly dry, but the plush beneath enough to compliment the texture, with a lick of your lips and a harsh suck, you latched onto his nipple, the skin pulling easily into your warm, wet mouth.

The sensation giving him ideas.

You continued your quest, thin skin trapped between pursed lips, only released with a wet lick and gentle nibble, the same treatment being given to the surrounding skin, his chest becoming bloomed with colour, the contrast against your skin obvious. Another squeeze of his chest, and kiss down his breastbone, you whispered sweet praises into his skin like a blessing; hands continuing to glide around his body, an occasional squeeze and caress on their path.

You felt so weird emotionally, the fact you were so turned on by doing this, yes, you were doing this act with the man you loved but were simultaneously enacting these actions towards your own body, looking withing your own eyes, despite the colourful additions. You felt so weird but so horny. This may have started from a non-sexual perspective but that didn’t matter anymore, your erection now burning hot and throbbing from sexual desire, any innocence now long gone.

You softly squeezed again at his chest, hands slowly brushing downwards, calloused finger pads running downwards, brushing lightly along his skin and down to his hips, grip re-tightening; small superficial scratches left behind, blooming a slight red-ish purple.

“Why don’t you help me out then?” You whispered, voiced lowered, almost whispering into his skin, eyes flickering upwards.

With a glance at your shorts, the fabric that was once previously covering you, now tousled and bunched above at your waist, the fabric underneath now slightly darker.

In a slow, purposeful motion, Four lowered himself to his knees, hands rested on your thighs tightening and lowering slightly to your mid-thigh, the motion extremely slow. With endued confidence, he moved forward, firmly planted upon curled legs, weight no doubt to become numbing, and placed his face close to your own body, focus laid upon a certain area.

“Help? I can certainly help,” he breathed a small chuckle, cheeks flush and a smug smile upon his face, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You responded in a stable but soft voice, trying to keep your volume lowered, at least at first, the loveable gremlin below you, interrupting you, “I know, right, but hey, if I had to say anything crazy is normal with you Links. This though, is certainly something I wouldn’t guess,” gasping your words, the blown breath of concentrated air against your damp underwear creating an indescribable sensation that lurched up your spine.

This little minx was trying to get you even more riled up, if only he knew that you couldn’t possibly even get any harder, practically ripping out of your shorts. Instead of freeing you from the damp cotton, he decided to instead soak you further.

He rubbed his face against your crotch, his nose prodding and rubbing side to side in a mockery of an eskimo kiss, running along the curve of your covered penis, before moving into a long, slow, up and down motion along the sides, outlining the shape beneath. With a devious grin he pushed further, your sighs and wide blown eyes not enough for him- he needed more, he wanted you to react. In a, not so, guilty admittance, he wanted others to hear what was happening, with full knowledge that it was unlikely with only three possibly people within the inn, the couple he’d seen previous and the inn owner himself. He felt like he was truly discovering part of himself, eyes a deep green and red, another deeper, violet, part within enjoying the possessive act but to wish to keep you away from others, a blue in agreement, even to keep your sounds for themselves.

Emboldened with your pretty gasps he knew exactly what to do, a hungry lust roaring within him- he tilted his head further forward, nose nuzzling deeper into the fabric, lips parting, and tongue being released. He laid his tongue flat against the fabric, lightly pushing down into the resistance of weighted flesh, a slight bounce of what laid beneath, excitement clear; then he began to lap at the fabric, paying special attention to the already wet area, the precum from your swollen tip soaking through. Lapping and lapping, he continued to dribble, lower lip moist brushing into the cotton, a stream of saliva wetting his tongue, and therefore, the fabric of which held his attention.

Lifting a single hand, the other strewn behind you, clenched into a fist and rested into the connecting corner of the shelf and wall, desperate for purchase, the other moving onto the back of his head, cradling gently, feeling boneless and limp.

You whispered praises to him, praises about him, how much you loved him and his current actions, hand acting as an encouragement.

With an increasing amount of saliva and the pressure of his tongue increasing, greed growling from between his parted lips, a deep groan from his throat, he lapped at your crotch with an animalistic need, like he could possibly wear away the fabric. The warmth of his saliva and heat of his tongue piercing through, the thin cotton only masking the texture of his tongue, instead the brush and encasing of wet cotton creating a different sensation.

Slipping his fingers under the bundle of your shirt, he then proceeded to continue their path into the band of your shorts, the fabric of the band lowering easily, the lower sections giving more resistance glued with cooling saliva directly upon your penis, having to be peeled away, lowered and tucked into a bunched roll underneath the swell of your balls.

Your dick bounced from underneath, unrolled into your stomach with a jolt of your hips, the tip smearing cum on the lower V of your abdomen, the weight of the flesh bobbing back forward, solid and stiff in a slight arch, the tip burning bright and thick.

Without pause, he released a single thigh, his left hand coming to wrap around the girth of the weight, fingertips brushing together, nails slightly tapping.

A loud moan burst forth, your head tilting backwards, resting against the wooden backing of the closet space, unable to expect how sensitive you would be, the noise unfiltered.

Four simply giggled from below you, hand beginning to slightly tighten, sliding up and down the length, the residual wetness from his saliva and your precum assisting in his fluid movements. Constricting and releasing his hand in a rhythm, hand moving in a slow and steady pace, a build up to the main event, not wanting you to cum too early, even though he’d love to make you cum multiple times, over and over, but right now, he wanted to prolong your pleasure, and as such, he kept a slow pace to build up the sensitivity even further, but not enough to push you over the edge.

Tightening his grip again, hand rubbing slowly, thumb peaking out to massage the skin of your tip, he began his main plan and wrapped his lips around your exposed tip, tongue peaking into your slit, flicking down and wrapping around your skin, lips creating a light suction. Immediately your abdominal muscles flexed, head falling forward, hips pinning backwards subconsciously, primal brain taking over, attempting to move you away from the sensation, the tingling intensified.

Pumping his hand as he stuck and licked at the tip, your muscles spasming, curling your body forward.

Soon, as large dollops of cum leaked from your tip, white clinging to the ridges along the length, a thin sheen along the entire expanse of skin, he removed his hand, moving lower, fingers maintaining contact, lowering down to cup your heavy balls, the weight slightly stretching skin and radiating heat into his palm, slowly rolling them within his cusped hand.

With his desire now unrestricted, he leant backwards slightly, lips leaving skin with a small pop, before returning forward, lips parting further, descending down over the tip, down along ridged skin and even lower down the thick five inches to the sweaty base, musk thick, perfumed with the hairs surrounding. The action was too much, his ability to decent fully, even if with slow progression, was an overwhelming blessing, your body teetering forward, muscles tense, thighs lifting, a single hand pinning your waist, sweat stemming at your brow, hair sticking to the skin and that of your neck.

His tongue flattened, coating the underside of your cock with a velvet pressure. The dual sensation of his warm mouth enveloping you completely while his hand gently massaged your balls had your legs quaking, threatening to give out entirely. You gasped his name, the sound breaking into a whimper as he hollowed his cheeks and began to suck in earnest. His tongue flat against the underside of your cock, a deep pink and glistening with saliva- the warmth from his mouth engulfing you was a sight to behold, while his hand gently massaged your balls with precise movements. His tongue was flattened against the underside of your cock, a slick, pink appendage working its way up and down in a tantalizing dance. As his hand moved, you could see the flexing of his muscles and the way his fingers skilfully manipulated your sensitive area, his tongue, pink and slick, flattens against the underside of your cock, giving it a soft sheen. His lips wrap around the thick shaft, his head bobbing as he sucks eagerly, his hand moving in tandem with his mouth.

The scent of sweat and arousal filled the air as his mouth and hand worked their magic, it was intoxicating, a mix of musk and desire that only heightened the experience.

His warm breath mixed with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady scent that filled the air. The faint aroma of his cologne added a hint of sweet spice to the sensual atmosphere. The scent of arousal fills the air, musky and almost sweet. The smell of his shampoo and cologne that still clung to the fabric of your own shirt and the one he currently wore, still obeying to his own routine of which scents he would use, the scent mingling with the heat emanating from your bodies.

"Four," you stuttered, your fingers tightening in his hair, uncertain whether you wanted to pull him closer or push him away from the overwhelming pleasure. "I can't, I'm going to--"

He hummed around you, the vibration sending electric pulses up your spine. His free hand, previously anchoring your hip, slid around to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh there possessively. You felt his fingertips dipping between your cheeks, teasing but not quite breaching, just adding a slight teasing pressure.

The sensation had you bucking forward, a strangled cry escaping your lips as you pushed deeper into his throat. Four took it eagerly, not gagging despite your uncontrolled thrust. His throat constricted around you rhythmically, swallowing you down as if he'd been made for this purpose alone.

Your vision began to blur at the edges, pleasure building to an unbearable peak. The hand that had been braced against the wall now flew to his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, desperate for an anchor as your orgasm approached like a tidal wave.

"I'm--" was all you managed before the wave crashed over you.

Four moaned appreciatively as you spilled down his throat, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss. He didn't pull away, continuing to suck and swallow through your climax, milking every drop from you with careful attention.

Your body trembled as you came down from the intense high, your legs finally giving way as you slumped against the wall. Four caught you easily, rising to his feet with a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then gently tucked you back into your wettened shorts, no cloth nor water bucket or bottle available within the toilet room, only the still discarded perfume bottle.

"Easy there," he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse as he helped steady you. His hands were tender now, stroking your sides, your arms, and your face, the touch intended ground you as the aftershocks continued to ripple through your system, "I've got you."

Despite the sweat and stuck strands of hair, he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, sharing the same air between pants and small gasps. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern beneath the badly masked smugness in his eyes, kaleidoscope shining bright in a swirling rotation.

You gave him a long, passionate kiss, no hesitation, unable to have done so in the previous position you were both in, uncaring of the taste upon his tongue, the fact also turning you on again slightly, a slight chub within your shorts again, Four’s own hands running wild.

"More than okay," you managed, your voice raspy, but letting out a chuckle you responded in a small whisper, "just give me a minute to remember how my legs work; not all of us are used to this,” you lightly flicked his forehead and proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, his own hands returning the favour, wrapping around your waist, securing you upon the small shelf.

“Well,” you whispered, voice still slightly hoarse, giving Four a quick smooch between your words, “this is certainly a good luck for walking down the public hallway,” you emphasised, “besides, who knows if the lads are back already?”

“Well, think of this,” you instantly knew you’d be better off shutting him up, another kiss, but he continued on, “if we’re stuck in here, I wouldn’t mind going again, I’d love to make you feel good, over and over,” he grinned bright and wide, “we have all night, a late night walk, some may say. Us, we may say.”

You grinned and smacked him lightly over the head. Your grin only slightly falling into horny embarrassment, the following causing you to become partially erect again: the shadow on the wall, the darkness parting into a light white, two beady eyes and a wide stretching grin.

This was going to be a wild night.

---

As always, all criticisms are welcome and thank you for reading! My first posted smut, only ever writing small drabbles for friends so we had to get a little freaky in honour of the first post.

[chesneyrags]

"I was sincerely hoping you weren't the quitting type, Christian Ford," she teased, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she gave him a playful wink. It may have been forward for some, but Chesney honestly believed he'd take it well. "But hey, a picnic here sounds like a pretty great idea for a second date, if you play your cards right." Was she crazy to be thinking about a second date already? Probably, but Chesney couldn't help herself. She knew the first date would go smoothly, if not perfectly, based on this conversation alone. Whatever happened next would be an adventure, but one that Chesney was certain she was going to ride out to the very end.

The alternative date he mentioned, the interactive museum and Gardens of Japan, sounded equally as special as far as Chesney was concerned. Mentally, she committed it to memory—both his favorite restaurant and what a date would look like. She'd make it happen soon enough, if only because he deserved that just as much as he thought she deserved the date at Maple Grove. Christian was proving to be someone she wanted to bend over backwards for, and she knew anything she could do for him would be appreciated ten-fold.

Christian agreeing to walk her to the parking lot made Chesney's heart skip a beat, but standing up and realizing how tall he was sent it beating double-time. She wasn't considered tall by any means, but she definitely had always been drawn to taller men when it came to attraction. Christian wasn't just tall—he was TALL. Before she could slip up and say something about just how tall he was, likely embarrassing herself in the process, he was speaking again. The lifeline he was throwing to her was greatly appreciated.

She started moving in the direction of the parking lot, choosing a pace that wasn't rushed by any means. She always gave herself enough time to get somewhere, so the alarm wasn't going to send her racing off to meet her dad, especially not when the company she was in made it hard enough to leave. "I like to read," she said, "and not just as a casual thing. I'm pretty much always reading two or three books at once. When I'm not working, I try to balance my time with friends and obligations with my dad, but I like to stay in from time to time, too. I have a cat named Mr. Darcy, which is why I don't spend all my free time out and about. He's aloof sometimes, but deep down I know he loves me."

She chuckled a little before lacing her fingers together and pressing her fingertips to her lips as she talked more, answering Christian's questions. "My favorite snack food is nachos," she said, "because there's just so much flexibility to them. You can make them gourmet, do a giant sheet pan, or just sprinkle some cheese on top of some chips. I've never met anyone who doesn't like nachos." She didn't know exactly how to answer the movie question, if only because she was pretty much open to all movies. Some, of course, were more frequently watched than others, so that's the direction she went. "I really love old Rom Coms, like Sleepless in Seattle, Love Actually, You've Got Mail, and Notting Hill. They're cozy, in a way. What about you?"

“Absolutely devastated.” Christian laughed, his upper body leaning slightly closer to Chesney. Her humor had dispersed the last of his anxiety, and he was now totally at ease. “And haunting the trails? I can’t believe you take me for a quitter, Chesney. I wouldn’t just haunt this spot—I would become the only thing about this trail worth mentioning. Golden Valley Run, featuring the Hopeless Romantic Ghoul. Then you would come back here for my phone number. Then I would have to tell you that as a ghost, you’re not allowed to have a phone anymore. Then you would order us pizza and we’d have our first date here, at the boundary between life and death.”

Christian laughed again. “Calling it a night… Literally never. Literally never.”

When Chesney told Christian that Maple Grove was her favorite, Christian genuinely believed he was asleep. Then he beamed. “Oh, that’s so good to hear… I used to think about taking someone to that interactive museum place where you can touch and move things—I’d have that be Destination Number One. And then we’d go to Gardens of Japan—that’s my favorite place right now—and we’d stay there until they close, just talking and learning about each other.

“But I want something that’s romantic right now. Chesney…” He gazed at her again. She’d bitten her lip while telling him she liked Maple Grove. He recalled the gesture and wished, sincerely, that they were already on the date.

“Chesney, I like you so much. You deserve something sweet. I’m happy Maple Grove is your favorite, because, for somebody as meaningful as you’ve been to me today…it’s my absolute favorite as well.” He smiled softly.

Chesney’s alarm pierced the still air of Golden Valley Run. Christian watched as Chesney turned it off, her eyebrows furrowed; when she said she didn’t want to leave, Christian thought, I agree. It wasn’t a passive agreement—it was living, something that took control of his thoughts and made him wonder if the world could stand still, just for a moment…just for him and Chesney to finish talking. She had to meet her dad…but, at least, she’d gotten to feel like Cinderella. That made the parting worth it.

Christian stood up from the bench, his legs pleasantly stretching as he did. “Please, let me walk you back to the parking lot,” he told her at her question. “And you can maybe tell me about your hobbies? I know you’re a superheroine nurse on the regular. That’s wonderful. But I have to know—what’s your favorite kind of movie? And your favorite snack food? These are questions you can fill me in on as we walk.” He gestured with his head a little and let himself smile broadly; he didn’t care how far-gone he looked. He felt good, and Chesney deserved to see that she’d done it. She deserved a lot more than that; but that would come later.

[memememaybe]

SEND ME “🍷” OR "BLIND" ; I will use this wheelpicker to choose one of my characters and throw our characters on a blind date !

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them

[barschter000]

broke: Due to his attractiveness, Barok has slept with countless (wo)men.

woke: Despite his attractiveness, Barok is a virgin.

Bespoke: Because of entirely different factors, Barok does not know what sex is.