#they live in two vastly different realities and it's so funny to me

[radarchives]

Can you do a collection of Lucifer + Solomon interacting or talking about each other, please?

solomon: lucifer is my best friend, he's my pal, he's my homeboy, my rotten soldier, he's my sweet cheese, my good time boy.

[sp1c3-r4ck-synd1c4t3]

Eldrazi will be the next major antagonist

This is just my own called shot. I will be looking back at this in ~a year and a half to see if I'm right, but I have evidence. I have. Some evidence.

Part 1: Data

I am going to use War of the Spark and March of the Machine as examples, and will assume their models are accurate to Ziplining, the climax event-set of the current arc.

Let's start with War of the Spark. This set had 31 months of "Foreshadow-time", which starts when the first Macguffin is loaded. Kaladesh set this in place with Tezzeret's presence, and the Planar Bridge he stole. I believe Tezzeret's presence was intentional, not just as "an" antagonist, but specifically Bolas' pawn. After that plot beat, it would take almost another year to see the true next step, in Bolas' army of Eternals. 31 months from first contact, 21 months from phase 2. Moving onto the Phyrexian arc, now that we know what we're looking for, we can find the first two teasers of Phyrexia's presence. The first is obvious, with Vorinclex on Kaldhiem, 27 months before MOM, similar to the number gained from the first examination. It would take a full year for this beat to be continued, with Jin-Gitaxis on Kamigawa, giving us 15 months pre-climax, which is definitely a much smaller time-frame, but hey, data is data.

With this information, we can make some reasonable estimations. Ziplining wants between 31-27 months of heads-up between its first foreshadow and its release. Its slotted to come out in Spring 2026, meaning that its first mention should have been during....... March of the Machine.

Hm. If we all rack our brains, maybe we can come up with something that happened in the Phyrexia arc that might've disturbed something that lives in the Blind Eternities...

Part 2: Story

This section starts my more outlandish speculations that will make me look truly foolish in 2 years time.

So, if we continue the pattern of first foreshadow->followup a year later, we would need something that tells the audience what's going on.

You remember Modern Horizons back in 2019? Well its funny, that set was built from the ground up! There was barely any thematic consistency between the cards except for draft archetypes. There were only a few premium Slivers, there just to spice up a limited deck. And the same holds true for Modern Horizons 2, there's even less consistency, each deck is going to feature cards with vastly different flavours!

And then came Modern Horizons 3, themed not around generically powerful cards, but around Eldrazi. Not new Eldrazi mind you, but

Time for crazy theory #1: What if the focus on Eldrazi in MH3 was in order to show the old kind of Eldrazi, so that we would be wowed by the new kind showing up 2 years later?

Now, this sets up some serious expectations! After the second story beat, every set had to do with Wank of the Spank or Mommy! Well that's what I'm predicting.

CRAZY THEORY #2 EVERY SET MENTIONED ALREADY RELATES TO THE ELDRAZI!!!

Part 3: Pepe Silvia

The Death Race set is... well I don't know what planes it takes place on yet, so I won't be making any specific claims. I like Corocojo's theory that it will be taking place on the wasteland plane of Gastal though, so... maybe it was razed by Eldrazi in the past? That one's weak but the next ones are a lot stronger.

Tarkir is pretty clear. Ugin spent a thousand years recovering on that plane, giving it... some connection to Colourless mana? Okay I'll be real this one also sucks

BUT THEN ITS SPACE OPERA TIME! People tend to view planes as one planet, with others just near enough to travel to, but with the deadly void of space/the Blind Eternities between them, and with horrible monsters potentially living Out There! Eldrazi have always been compared to aliens, so it'd make some sense to draw the distinction. Maybe in a plane all about outer space, we could learn more about the origin of Eldrazi. Maybe something that lives in the In-Betweens of reality started in the In-Betweens of planets!

Lorwyn is easily my weakest link. Nissa made contact with Emrakul on Zendikar, then planeswalked to Lorwyn? I'll be honest, not sure what I'm cooking with that one.

But then we get to the real reason I'm making this post. A return to Arcavios, the final plane before the climax. And let me ask you a question. Do we know of any colourless creatures that live on Arcavios?

That's right. Why else would they make the penultimate set a Strixhaven sequel? Because it's been the home of an entirely different kind of titan this whole time.

Part 4: A list of the many reasons I'm probably wrong

Here's a non-comprehensive list of the many reasons I'm probably wrong.

Loot is related to the Fomori, whom have nothing to do with Eldrazi

Kellan has nothing to do with Eldrazi

It probably has to do with dragons cause Tarkir and Arcavios both have extant Elder Dragons and Bolas' probably escaped his meditation realm in the Invasion

Jace already did the whole Eldrazi thing a decade prior why would he be showing up so much if they just want to make him Do It Again

Emrakul is still in the silver moon and its not very likely that she'll escape off-screen

MH3's Eldrazi could just be a way to appease fans who won't get another chance to see them in a long time

We JUST defeated Phyrexia forever, why on earth would the other big bad of the multiverse be next, instead of being saved for 2033 with a smaller big bad in-between

Tezerret has nothing to do with the Eldrazi

Why the fuck would the first "Macguffin foreshadow" be something that happened DURING the last climax

Why the fuck would the second story beat take place in a set WITHOUT A STORY

Mark Rosewater said about Ziplining "I can't even say who the antagonist is". If it was Eldrazi he might've said 'what the antagonist is'

You've never once made a correct magic theory

But hear me out on that last one. There's a first time for everything :)

[khaire-traveler]

hey, so im kinda new here but i was just scrolling and saw a post you made in like december of last year (im really late i know, im sorry) saying that the gods aren't going to harm you and won't toy with you, and um, i really mean no disrespect at all with this, this is a genuine question, and i in no way mean to bash you bc i love the greek gods too, but like don't the greek myths show the exact opposite of that? like zeus and poseidon legit flooding the whole ass earth just to get rid of humans? and so many different occasions where the gods smite humans bc of a tiny offense? or actually just toying with mortals because they find it funny? and just basically doing really questionable things to humans all the time? i love them and all, but isn't it a bit of a stretch to say that they wouldn't harm humans when they literally did for all of humanity's existance per the myths?

Hello, Nonny, thanks for the question! I appreciate that you were trying to be respectful. 🧡

Firstly, I would like to say that I made that post last year. My thoughts and opinions have shifted over time, and that post was mostly made with the intention of comforting those who needed it (including myself, at the time). Posts like that don't offer enough context to express what a person actually believes/practices. I still would like to believe that gods don't just fuck with people or harm them in really shitty ways, but this is due to personal experience, as are most things within this type of religion. It's very heavily based on each individual's experiences with the gods. I have never met two people with the same exact practice or even interpretation of the gods; something is always a little bit different, even if it's a very small difference.

Secondly, these are myths that you're referencing. Even in ancient times, they were not interpreted literally all the time. This isn't really the type of religion that I would suggest people interpret myths literally, and I don't mean that in a rude way. It simply doesn't make sense to me to do that, especially when the culture of the ancient Greeks was so vastly different from the modern day. In fact, many of the major "issues" people have with Greek myths can be explained by a difference in culture and ways of thinking. If you choose to interpret myths literally, go for it, but I personally find the gods to be VERY different from the myths people told of them.

You have to remember as well that it's not as if these myths were written by the gods themselves or something; some old ass white men were probably the ones writing that stuff down, and they lived in a culture where men had all the rights and privileges (this is all to say that many myths treat women like shit for a reason: the culture viewed women as being worth less than literal animals).

The Greek myths are not scripture. I feel that basing one's views of the gods solely on myths is extremely limiting and, in my experience, inaccurate. Zeus has treated me very kindly, even helping me escape from the worst abuser I've ever faced; Poseidon has been very respectful, gently approaching me and randomly just popping up for assistance throughout my life; Apollo has been a light in the darkness for me during many times of need, always willing to guide me when I've lost my way. The gods can be depicted in myths one way but act in an entirely different way in reality.

That said, however, the gods are complex beings, similarly to humans. They are capable of feeling any emotion - sadness, happiness, anger, disgust, etc. Of course they're bound to get upset at humans from time to time, but I don't believe they would act maliciously towards someone randomly or for a super petty reason. They can be kind, loving, and sweet, but being multifaceted, they can also be cruel, spiteful, and angry. I would argue that rarely does a worshipper experience the more "unpleasant" side of the gods, but it does happen, I'm sure. I just believe that the gods will not go out of their way to just "mess with people", if that makes sense. For example, I don't believe Aphrodite would ruin someone's life for making a one-off comment about how their partner is "as/more beautiful as/than Aphrodite". Like, why would she care? Especially if that person doesn't even worship her, why does it matter what that person says? It's just some random person, and she has much better things to do than spend her time ruining their life for a compliment to their lover. The gods simply have better things to do and/or are more mature than that. They're thousands upon thousands of years old; I'm sure they know how to handle someone who called them a mean name or said something "hubristic" in a respectful and disciplined way, especially if that person isn't a worshipper/doesn't believe in their existence.

Of course, there are people who would disagree with me, and that's perfectly fine. There is no right or wrong belief when it comes to these things. The beauty of this religion is that you're free to think whatever you want. If you want to believe that Hermes is the god of Monster Energy™, you're absolutely free to do so! If you want to believe that saying someone is as beautiful as Aphrodite is insanely disrespectful and not ok, then you're free to think that as well. There's nothing wrong with believing whatever feels right to you, but just remember that at the end of the day, religion should be a generally positive experience for you. It should make you feel good in some way, be that happiness or fulfillment or even comfort. Religion shouldn't make you feel uncomfortable, unhappy, and unsafe constantly. There are times where religion - especially this one imo - will test your limits or push boundaries, but it shouldn't make you feel like shit all the time.

Ok, anyway, I apologize for going into a tangent lol. I hope this gave a sufficient answer to your question. Believe whatever you feel is right, Nonny. I may believe that the gods are kind (although they certainly can behave otherwise, being multifaceted), but you're welcome to believe the opposite. There is no one single way to interpret the gods; it's different for everyone. The only recommendation/advice I have for you is to base your views of the gods on personal experience rather than myths. Myths are just that: myths. They are meant to teach lessons or explain the nature of the world. Sometimes they're even just meant to show examples of a god's wrath/why you should respect the gods. Point being here that they aren't usually meant to be taken literally, and I personally would not recommend doing so, but it's entirely your choice.

I hope this helped and gave you a good answer! Take care, and have an awesome day/night. 🧡☺️

[yuna-writes]

Finding the right culture

These days, I've been trying to make new friendships but in reality I think I only have 2 real close friends and a few acquaintances which in the grand scheme of thing seems to be really tiny relative to other young people who have many friends. I feel like to me a friend is someone who understands me compared to just someone who just wants to have fun and waste time together. I notice I always had issues making friends and as I got older making new friends has been more challenging.

People mention to make new friends at work but to be honest I don't feel like I belong in the culture either. I'm the youngest worker in the office and majority of my co-workers are in the their late 30s or mid 40s. They talk about interests, shows and entertainment from the 80s or 90s which I didn't even exist at that time period. They are also married, have children and a spouse. I also notice their outlook on life were vastly different considering they grew up in a time where family dynamics were valued and traditional social norms were more dominant. Therefore, I can't really relate to their values because I grew up in a different time period. A time where my generation sort of grew up in the era of technological advances and different values.

Strangely enough, I also get along with older adults because since they seem a bit more emotionally mature as they get married and have children and they don't really expect me to be a party person or have a "fun time" with them after working hours. So after work, they literally just go home and spend time with their family and leave me alone which I sort of like. In the past, I worked for a startup where the employees were mostly young people in their 20s and the culture had a sort of drinking/party culture and they would constantly ask me to join in their idea of 'fun.' If I don't participate in the happy hours, it makes you look like a loner or an outcast. Therefore, I was always torn with participating or being 'myself.' In the end, I also felt I wasn't really part of the 'young culture' either, even if many of them came from my generation.

It's like I don't fit in with the old or young generation, so which culture do I fit in with? I suppose one might consider this overthinking but genuinely I think a lot of young people can easily relate with other young people and understand each other's interests. I don't really follow certain trends or their idea of entertainment so it's either I find the conversation boring or they find me boring. I feel even if the older adults might not also relate with me either, but they are sort of past their time to be making new friends at work. They are working to provide for their family and children, so they don't expect me to be their friend per say which can be either good or bad. Good in a way that they just see me as a colleague which might seem more professional but bad because I can't really connect with them beyond the surface level. I suppose their real friends would be with other older adults who happen to be parents so they can relate to them and their experiences.

I always feel like as a person I sort of give out a very different energy and vibe other people typically carry. I'm a woman but often I have a really hard time making female friends in real life just based on my interests and vibe I exude in the social setting. I make female acquaintances but I always felt they weren't really interested in pursuing and maintaining friendships. Maybe I don't live up to the idea of what female friendships should be which is often really emotional and touchy. It's funny too, when you don't live up to someone's expectations of you, they see you as a villain and despise you. The two friends I have are also women but I do find it unusual when I notice other women making friends with other women easily and I often find myself struggling to make female friendships. I'm not sure if the reasoning is gender norms because I do think women do have general idea of what is acceptable in female friendships. It does make me question whether gender really exist, or it doesn't, and it's just our personal biases in the end?

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offense, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their overreactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

[icarushasfallenfromthestars]

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!Tubbo

Hello! I'm in love with the way you write c! Ranboo like hsgsj- amazing! So I would like a request Yandare c! Ranboo and tubbo with a soft reader that is oblivious on how they act twords them but loves them unconditionaly (just fluff please maybe maybe put a Micheal seen in there as well because Micheal is the best character 😌)

I think this is the best compliment I have ever received... Thank you so much🤍🖤

I didn't know whether or not to do headcanons or a full-length fic, so I went with a shorter story if that's alright. ^^ if it's not feel free to send another request!

FYI THIS CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC

-

It was very common for you to see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, you only saw a bunch of purple particles drifting slowly towards the earth due to gravity. You just assumed there were quite a few endermen still hanging around Snowchester, or some of the goats had come down from the mountains when you saw small little horns peeking out from behind bushes.

There were a couple times a day where you accidentally and very conveniently bumped into Ranboo out in the crater of L'Manberg or Tubbo when walking around Snowchester. It honestly was funny to you that you always seemed to bump into them when you were feeling sad or lonely. Plus, after talking to them and spending time with them, your problems almost magically seemed to disappear!

Such as, there was one time when you were helping clean up the red vines around buildings and Fundy was nagging at you for being so slow or bad at doing everything. After storming away and ranting to Ranboo about it on the verge of tears, Fundy practically scrambled up to you the next day shaking and almost crying, apologizing for every single thing he's ever said or done.

Huh... Maybe he felt that bad about it to the point where he was crying?

Although Fundy never said anything mean to you again, he also stopped hanging around you completely.

When you mentioned this to Tubbo, he explained that Fundy must not have been a real friend and that he and Ranboo would always be there for you before anyone else.

Once the mansion was built, the two platonic husbands eagerly invited you to stay with them, even saying they had Foolish make a room specifically for you! At first, you quite enjoyed your home around L'Manberg, but then one day you returned home to a wall of your home completely destroyed by vines, deeming it unlivable. Although a tad convenient..

Tubbo and Ranboo had heard about it through your sobs when you called them, saying you had no clue what to do anymore. They had arrived at your side in almost minutes and quickly helped you pack and move everything to the mansion.

"I thought Snowchester was like... Half a day's walk away from here..." You sniffed, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. The two men of greatly varying heights tensed up momentarily.

"We were in the area." They both blurted out at the same time before glancing at each other.

Tubbo cleared his throat first, "I was in the nether, but luckily for you, I was close to the old L'Manberg portal!" He smiled softly at you as you three walked away from your old home.

"M-Me too!" Ranboo coughed awkwardly, causing Tubbo to shoot him an odd look that you decided to brush off, "Now, uh, come on! Michael needs to meet his new mother!"

You blinked in surprise at the new title but didn't question it much, assuming it was simply just a title. Unbeknownst to you, your two best friends already thought you were part of their platonic relationship, despite you never agreeing nor denying, or them even asking.

It took a few days, but the zombie piglin warmed up to you and practically saw you as another one of his parents, which made Ranboo and Tubbo extremely happy. Instead of placing you into one of the regular rooms, they had Foolish turn the basement into two heavily secured rooms a few days before your house had been destroyed, strangely enough, and even designed one perfectly to your liking!

After washing the fruits you had, you walked towards the bookshelf and pulled on the fake book that caused the shelf to swing open. You walked down the quartz stairs after shutting the hidden door, then made your way up to one of the two doors with a pink sign with 'Michael' written in yellow cursive paint. Punching in the code, the iron door slid open and you stepped in before closing it behind you.

A loud cooing grunt was heard and the sound of quiet tapping echoed through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around your leg. "Hello, Michael." You giggled softly as Michael made grabbing hands up towards the bowl of fruit. Placing it down on the table, the child eagerly ran over and began munching on the food as you brushed over the books on the shelves to find one you haven't read to Michael before. "What about... The story of Persephone?"

A disappointed grunt was your only response.

"Guess I did read that one... Hm... Oh! What about the story of Icarus?" This time his response was a happy squeak and tippy taps of his hooves against the warm quartz floors. You sat down in the rocking chair and waited until the child scrambled over and jumped into your lap.

You opened the book and began reading to him for an hour until your eyes slowly slid shut to the quiet snores of the child of your two best friends, who at this point was beginning to see you as a mother.

Quiet 'meh' sounds and 'vrrr'ing noises and a dim flash woke you up from your spot in the rocking chair. Cracking open your eyes, your arms shifted around the nether hybrid as you saw Tubbo holding a camera making happy bleating noises, while Ranboo, who was the source of the buzzing noises, took the book you had been reading from your limp hand to put it back on the shelf.

"What time is it?" You murmured softly to keep the child asleep as you rubbed the back of your stiff and sore neck.

"It's about 5:30pm. Still rather early. Tubbo walked over and gave you a gentle yet affectionate headbutt while he scooped Michael up from your lap to bring him to bed. This caused an odd whining noise to come from the enderman hybrid before he quickly walked over and rested his forehead against yours, resting it there for a few moments before pulling back, his cheeks flushed the same colours as his eyes.

You giggled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the head as he helped you up. He held onto one of your hands as Tubbo eagerly went for the other, jokingly sticking his tongue out at Ranboo who gave a noise of mock offence, causing you three to giggle softly as you left Michael's room and went upstairs.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren't big fans of you leaving the basement on your own, and you were rarely allowed to leave the mansion even with the two boys at your sides. The former president told you it was because he heard rumours of Technoblade searching around for all the members of his cabinet back when he was in charge of L'Manberg, and he just wanted to protect you.

You saw no problems with his story as it was extremely believable. Your history with Technoblade hadn't been the cleanest and he would've definitely taken one of your canon lives back during the attack on L'Manberg, had a stray black and white firework not saved you that day. It had fired off and must've swerved a way that wasn't predicted, because it hit Technoblade hard enough in the chest to knock him away from you.

You don't remember much of that day, except for Ranboo immediately running over to you and dragging you away from the destruction and chaos. Thanks to him, you were almost completely scar-free and standing proudly at three canons lives.

A gentle hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you saw two sets of eyes staring at you with concern. "Hey... Are you feeling okay?" Ranboo asked softly, tilting your head up to place his free hand against your forehead, "See. I told you she should be getting more sunlight, Tubbo!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" You laughed softly at their worry, rubbing your thumbs along the back of their hands, "Just... Remembering the war with Dream and Techno..."

"What about it?" Tubbo asked, bringing you into the living room to sit down with your friends on either side of you.

You pursed your lips together for a moment as you looked at the ground, "Just how... Scary Techno is. And how he was about to kill me without a care about who or what I was."

Angered growling and seething noises came from Ranboo and Tubbo as you felt their grasps tighten around your hands, almost to a painful degree. You looked up and saw their expressions stone-cold and steely although vastly different from each other.

Ranboo's green eye was purple, and the black tone of his skin was beginning to seep into the side with the lack of colour. The corners of his mouth were slowly splitting open wider and wider as his lips parted, allowing you to see the glowing purple colour inside his mouth.

Tubbo's was less obvious. His eyes were blank but also had a bright fire, one burning for revenge, reflected in them. His ears weren't flicking and neither was his tail, his entire body stiff except for a faint sound giving away the fact that his teeth were grinding together.

As much as you tried to endure it, the grip became too harsh and you couldn't help but give a small pained gasp. This caused all physical contact with you to suddenly vanish as the two boys immediately flung themselves away from you, horror and fear in their eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

"Are you okay?! Do you need an ice pack?!"

"Or a bandage from my claws?!"

They were both kneeling on the ground in front of you with both of your hands in their grasps again. They repeatedly turned your hands in their own, testing the joints and checking for marks or bruising. "Boys, boys!" You laughed softly, placing your hands on their heads to ruffle their hair gently. You pulled your left hand adorned with two beautiful rings and held it up for them to see, flexing it and moving it around, "See? Perfectly fine. No pain whatsoever!"

While they seemed to have calmed down a lot, they still seemed to be extremely upset and guilty. "I'm still going to get an ice pack... We don't want our wife to be injured..." Tubbo murmured as he quickly got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"I will get started on dinner. And as an apology, I'm making your favourite. (F/f)." Ranboo tried to be a little more upbeat than Tubbo, but you could still see the small amounts of guilt as he turned and followed after the goat hybrid.

Sighing softly at their over reactions, you leaned back against the couch...

Before doing a double-take.

Adorned with rings?!

You quickly flung yourself forward again and looked at your left hand. On your ring finger were two diamond rings, one gold with a green gemstone, and the other silver with a black gemstone, both glistening a faint purple from enchantments...

...

When did these get put on you- wait... Did Tubbo say... wife?

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

[milktyama]

— ☕︎ CALL CALL CALL

synopsis: sometimes a call can make miles seem like meters

a/n: omg why did this take me so long to finish i literally had 20% of the fic left and i left it in my drafts for a little over 3 months now 💀💀 anyways it's here now !!

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre: ldr, fluffyyy, very little angst if you squint hard enough

wc: 1.5k

❥︎ mild manga spoilers but nothing too big, slight swearing

The nights in California are much more suffocating than you would think. The air is stuffy while angry neighbours bicker loudly at well past hours. Do they even know the meaning of manners? Iwaizumi Hajime, currently studying abroad from Japan to pursue his passion in sports medicine. The education system in America was vastly different from the one in Japan, though studying here is a much better option for getting connections in the industry. 

His major is not a particularly easy one. It is part of the medical field after all. Though in times of stress, he missed everything he had back in his home country. All the friends he had, his family, and most certainly you, his beloved partner. You and Iwaizumi have been dating at the start of your third year together. After parting ways in high school to pursue different careers, you two have decided to take the challenge of a long distance relationship, your feelings for each other being as strong as ever.

However, he never considered how hard it really was. With a shockingly 17 hour time zone difference, when one was awake the other was usually asleep. The two of you tried very hard two fit in at least one call a week and constantly text the other with room of expectation that the other would reply in a couple of hours. It was very rough at first but together you both have found a pace that worked and kept your relationship intact.

The biggest obstacle for Iwaizumi was definitely during exam season, when all his focus has been shifted into studying and reviewing all the heavy content he’s been looking at for the past semester. As much as he hated this time of the year due to multiple reasons, he had just come to accept it. Unfortunately, your daily texts have stretched into weeks and your weekly calls have stretched into months. With minimal communication, Iwaizumi was bound to feel the stress power down on him. His worries for his studies combined with the ones about your relationship has certainly shoved him into a corner of burn out. 

Furious at himself for his limited mental capacity, Iwaizumi threw his notebook to the desk in front of him and sighed in annoyance, running his hands through his face and his hair. Tilting his head upwards, he stared at the ceiling blankly. His gaze automatically drifted to his phone that was placed facing down across this room to avoid any distractions. He made his way towards his phone and picked it up. He immediately opened your contact and stared at the picture in your profile. It was a picture that was taken a few weeks before he left Japan when the two of you went on a picnic date and as predicted, his best friends crashed into it, their fleeting figures visible in the background of the picture.

He chuckled at the memory. How he missed all of them. Clicking on the messaging icon, he had an internal debate if he should text you. Glancing at the clock, it read 4:48pm meaning for you it must be morning. Hesitantly, he started typing out a message that was out of character even for him, but what can he do, he really craved your presence. 

Iwaizumi: I miss you. I really wish you could hold me in your arms and kiss away all of my stress.

Hitting send, his eyes widen at the small letters at the bottom that indicate that you have read his message. A few seconds later, there was a reply. His heart started to beat faster as his eyes scanned the digital letters displayed on his screen.

Y/n: Hi Hajime! I miss you lots too baby. I will be sending you virtual hugs if that helps?

He couldn’t hide his smile anymore. His lips pulled up on his face as his eyes lit up at your very sweet message. He immediately replied to your message, trying to elongate this moment as much as he can due to its rarity that the both of you were up at the same time.

Iwaizumi: You’re up earlier than usual today

Y/n: Yeah I recently switched one of the electives and they only had a morning slot available. Late morning but still, morning lectures suck :(

Iwaizumi: Don’t push yourself too hard. Make sure to sleep earlier now and eat a full breakfast ok?

Y/n: Iwa-chan are you my mom?

A small vein popped on Iwaizumi’s forehead, the nostalgic yet annoying memory of Oikawa using that exact phrase on him.

Iwaizumi: Ha ha very funny honey.

Y/n: I’m kidding~! Thank you for worrying about me. I love you ok? *sends a heart reaction meme*

Iwaizumi: Yeah yeah I love you too.

Iwaizumi could feel the conversion coming to an end. He really didn’t want that. Although he had to get back to do some studying soon, and he knew that you had to get to class. But he tried to push his luck a little further, praying to the universe to not be against him today.

Iwaizumi: Hey, are you free to call for a bit? 

Y/n: Hmm yeah I should be able to, I still have time for my class and I don’t live too far from my campus.

And with that, Iwaizumi felt that the universe had finally blessed him for the first time since he had come to America. Clicking on the phone icon, he brought his phone up to ear and waited on the rings until you picked up.

“Hi Hajime~” you cooed at your boyfriend. Oh how he missed that phrase coming from your lips. Your conversation flowed like always, however this time you could tell that both of your words were laced with longing for the other. 

The seconds stretched to minutes, a small giggle here and there, and suddenly time had lost its meaning. Both yours and his love were timeless. Unconditional love. The type of love that you two don’t expect anything in return from the other. Yet both of you continue to care for the other as if you were to let go, it would be gone forever. 

After a small joke being cracked from your side of the line, there was a small pause, slight tension building, unclear if that tension was positive or not. Maybe it was slightly suffocating, but with the other on the line, everything felt ok.

“Hey… I love you, you know that right?” Iwaizumi mumbled. Being in a long distance relationship really affected him. You let out a small sigh, imagining the small pout on his face when he gets a little antsy from the lack of your presence. 

“Mhm, I sure do know baby. I love you too,” you hummed to him. The two of you sat in silence once again. But this time, the silence was comfortable, almost as if the two of you were in the same room together. Warmth radiating onto each other as your fingertips made contact with his. Coming back to reality, you looked at the clocks and sadly, your short time with him has ended for now.

“Fine… Don’t forget to eat properly and sleep well. Text me when you’re done with your lectures, I’ll respond to them as fast as I can.”

“I have to go now Hajime, or I’ll be late for class. You need to get back into studying too.” You could hear the small grunts of disappointment from the other end of the line. He was just too cute for you. A side of the Iwaizumi Hajime that only you got to see and no one else. 

“Will do!! Call again when exams are over?” 

“Mhm. I love you.”

“Pft, you said that so much today, is this really my boyfriend I’m talking to?”

“Hey don’t be rude. I just really miss you and I really can’t wait for the break after exams. I’ll be coming back to Japan this time.”

“Yup! And we’ll reunite with the rest of the Seijoh alumni!”

“Ehh, I'd rather just spend my time with you.”

“I don’t think Tooru would like that Haji.”

“Let him. I just want to be with you.”

“You are such a romantic.”

“Only for you.”

You giggled.

“I love you~”

“And I will love you more, forever and always.”

“Babe it’s too early to be this cheesy for me.” 

“It’s literally almost 11am there.”

“OH SHIT. I GOTTA GO. I LOVE YOU AGAIN BABY MWAH TEXT YA LATER!”

And then you abruptly hung up. Sliding his phone off from his ear, Iwaizumi scrolled at your pictures and your messages for a few minutes, thinking to himself how lucky he is to have you in his life. 

Who would have known that one call, from 17 hours into the “future” would have such an effect on a man like Iwaizumi Hajime. Well there is only one type of call that can do that. And that is yours. 

And he knows that even in the toughest times of long distance, you are just one call away. And that one call, can make miles upon miles, feel like meters.

[fourdaysofrain]

Self-Made Man

Summary: A Trans!Tony Stark AU. 

(Lengthy, personal author’s note below the cut, if you’re interested.)

Natasha Marie Stark was born twelve minutes before midnight on May 29th, 1970. She weighed a healthy seven pounds and two ounces when she arrived. She was the most beautiful thing that either of her parents had ever seen. And she was screaming loud enough to scare the pigeons from the trees outside.

Read on AO3

Well, hey everyone. It’s been a handful of months since I’ve been on here. I want to apologize for being gone, but that feels kind of phony. I don’t know. I missed this, though. I can tell you that much. I still checked my notifications every once in a while. It made me really glad to see people still commenting on my fics or passing my links around. Love y’all. 

I guess it’s about time that I tell you that I’m trans. I have been this whole time. To answer a few quick questions, I first knew sometime in late high school, but it was always kind of in the background my whole life, I just didn’t know how to isolate the feeling. I started socially transitioning (i.e. dressing male, coming out, going by he/him) after my high school graduation, and I started HRT (Horomone replacement therapy, that means I inject myself with testosterone weekly. .33mL subcutaneously into my tummy, if you’re curious) on Oct. 12, 2018. So it’s been almost two years since, and I’ve been completely passing as a man for quite a while. Ass-crack hair, sweat, and all. 

This is a pretty personal fic for me, given the nature of it. I’ve wanted to write it for a long time, and I’ve actually had words in the Google Doc since January. It took a lot of long nights to write. It helped that I was back home. I always have an easier time tapping into Trans Emotions when I’m in my home town, for better or for worse. All the memories and relationships I formed pre-transition follow me like ghosts. 

I’m leaving for college in two days, conversationally. 

I see a lot of trans!Peter Parker fics. I’m not dissing them, I love them to bits. But it makes me wonder why fandom is so quick to headcanon Peter as trans instead of one of the other characters. He’s petite, has a higher voice, and has softer features than the other male cast members. I feel like those attributes definitely play a role. It can be easy to see trans men as “uwu soft bois”, or as Men Lite, or as a more palatable version of “normal” (that is to say, cis) men. Those ideas are often flawed and based on transphobic foundations. The reality is, trans men (and by extension, all trans people) have the ability to be indiscernible from their cis counterparts. Everyone likes to think they can pick trans people out from a crowd, but you’d be surprised how quickly I started being read as male. Androcentrism for the win, I guess. 

I won’t be entirely pessimistic. I understand that people my age project onto Peter (I am by no means exempt from that), and that there’s a greater number of young trans people than old, due to a series of depressing reasons. But I still wanted to try a different take on a trans character. 

My experience as a trans man is vastly different than the one I write about here. If anything, I’m closer to fandom’s idea of trans!Peter. My parents were accepting, I had the financial and social means to transition relatively early, and I can fly under the radar easily. The most important difference is the time period. 

I don’t know a lot about the trans experience of the 80s and 90s, which is what Tony would have gone through. I know of one single trans man who began his transition back then, one of the gender studies professors at my university. Even then, he’s from Canada, which I’m assuming has an entirely different culture around trans lives. There aren’t many older trans men. It’s depressing. There’s a lot of reasons for this. I don’t want to get too deep into them, because it only makes me feel sad. The final scene in this fic is extremely self-indulgent with regards to this. I wrote what I needed to hear. 

That’s not to say I don’t relate at all to what I wrote. There are themes that are almost universal for the trans experience. I hope you can parse those out here.

I also wanted to talk about how I showed the change from “Natasha” to Tony. In the early stages of this fic’s development, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to openly say Tony’s deadname (the name trans people are given at birth, and often, but not 100% of the time, change as a part of their transition), but I soon realized that it would make the story much clearer with the inclusion of it. If you’re wondering, I got the name from Earth-3490, where Tony is born a woman (and marries Steve, lol). I chose to show the change between the two with the use of past tense for the first half of the fic, and switching to present for Tony’s life. Often times, it feels like that when you transition. You start living in present tense. 

I also want to make it clear that transitioning isn’t as simple as shown here. From the beginning of mapping out this fic, I was stressed about “Oh, how will he be able to graduate as Tony if he doesn’t start transitioning until after he gets to college,” and “How will Howard react to him coming out?” and “How will he have a playboy persona if he isn’t able to have sex with someone without them knowing?” and a zillion other ideas. It was very freeing for me to let go of some of these obstacles and leave it up to the reader to decide. I alluded to some of the solutions that I came up with, but for the most part, I glossed over the paperwork and bureaucracy aspect to transitioning. But in real life, there are countless red tapes you have to cut for even the simplest of actions. I went to the state court to change my name and sex in March of 2019, and I still have cards in my wallet with my deadname. I had a consult with a plastic surgeon for top surgery (the colloquial name for the double mastectomy that trans men often go through to masculinize their chests. If you’re wondering, genital reconstruction surgery is normally called bottom surgery to mirror this) last December, and I still don’t have a date set. It took me a few months to start T, and I only got it so easily because I went through my unviersity, which does informed consent. Some places have to have proof of 6 months of social transitioning and a letter from a therapist. There is a lot of medical gate keeping in the trans community. I don’t know what I would have done had my parents not been accepting enough to help me through the processes. I am extremely thankful for their support. 

But it’s a lot easier to write about transition happening smoothly. Money helps, which I don’t touch on a lot in this fic, but oh my God, does money help. I’m lucky enough to be able to afford my ~$20 a month T prescription (which I will be taking until the end of my days, likely), and I’m in the process of saving for top surgery. Thankfully with Tony, I can just presto most of the problems away because he’s canonically a billionaire. Eat the rich, folks.

There’s also the intersection with race that is very impactful for trans people, as it is for everyone. Both Tony and I are white, which gives us societal privileges that trans people of color don’t have access to. As well as the fact that transitioning from female to male is a much different experience than transitioning from male to female. We don’t experience trans misogyny, which is a special kind of misogyny specifically related to trans women. (Think of old sitcoms where the joke is that it’s a man dressed in women’s clothing, and that’s what makes it funny. That’s a fairly tame example of trans misogyny. It gets ugly fast.) 

I’m veering dangerously off-topic, but it’s important to talk about. It’s easy for white trans people (and LGBT people as a whole, I suppose) to distance themselves from talking about white privilege or male privilege because they aren’t straight and/or cis. But it’s important to recognize that while we may face unique oppression, we also still benefit from historical white supremacist and patriarchal structures present today in society. 

Sorry, not sorry for getting political. And if I haven’t said it on here, Black lives matter. Of course. 

If you end up having trans-related questions, I want to be a resource for you. Seriously, I’m narcissistic and love talking about myself I don’t mind helping you understand the trans experience. I can’t promise that I know everything, but I also have my own group of trans friends who might know what I don’t, and we can learn together. 

Again, love y’all. Thank you for the continued support you give me. I can’t promise that I’ll go back to my normal level of activity on here, but I might dip my feet back in the pool. <3

[ollifree]

1. What are things they both find funny?

Pet antics. They share a morbid sense of humor about the plague that anyone else who lived in Vesuvia at the time would find abhorrent. They have different limits on it and know where each other’s is.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

You’re gonna limit Lucio to one sentence? Lucio? He’s gotta talk about how smart Skylar is, how good he looks, his talent in magic, his thoughtfulness. Lucio’s favorite words for Skylar are, in order, “Pretty, precious, perfect.”

I’m taking Skylar’s from a prompt from last year.

“Should I start with his eccentricities or…? He’s loud, brash. More cunning than people give him credit for. He’ll have an absolute meltdown if he can’t get his makeup right and have himself convinced two seconds later he always gets it perfect. He wears white because he’s always covered in dog hair. He makes sure everyone knows what his opinion on something is, and will do everything within his power to fix something he deems wrong.”

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Lucio makes a point of complimenting however Skylar looks, but it’s a rare day Lucio doesn’t praise Skylar’s intellect and dedication to his work.

Skylar’s go-to descriptor for Lucio is “handsome”. His favorite (non-extensive) list of things to compliment Lucio on are: how hard he tries, how brave he is, his confidence, how passionate he is when it comes to the things he cares about.

They each compliment each other’s ass at least ten times per day.

4. What would be their ship name?

Either "grind against your bones until our marrows mix", or "the awful edges where you end and i begin", both of which are lyrics from Ludo's The Horror of Our Love.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Favorite activities are lounging on each other, doting on the pets, and people watching. Skylar gets coaxed into doing magic (however mundane) so Lucio can compliment him. In modern verse they binge watch bad reality tv. Lucio will put up with being outside when it snows only because Skylar likes outdoor winter activities and only because Lucio knows he’s gonna get some hardcore snuggle time at the end of it.

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

Lucio’s are gift giving (showing) and words of affirmation (receiving). Skylar’s is quality time. Physical touch is mandatory for both of them.

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them.

This question is arophobic.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

I’m always down for some self-fic plugging [link].

Skylar couldn’t have had a better introduction to Lucio: Julian had brought Skylar to Vesuvia for the menagerie, and Skylar and Lucio immediately clicked over their shared love of animals. Lucio truly has a unique personality and Skylar was excited to meet a new kind of person. Add on Julian’s endorsement of the Count and it’s no small wonder Skylar wound up staying in Vesuvia long past when he would have left anywhere else.

9. Have they made each other cry?

Yes. Mostly via mutual vulnerability and happiness. Then the plague happened.

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

This is a direct call out for me not writing my fic yet.

11. What causes them to fight?

Lucio’s Lucio-isms getting out of hand, or Salsa destroying something of Lucio’s. He can’t get mad at his fur babies so Skylar gets to take the brunt of it. Their biggest arguments happened over the coliseum and how to deal with the outbreak of the plague.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Before Lucio’s death Skylar didn’t invest himself enough in Vesuvian politics to give a concrete answer in that area. Insofar as Lucio’s views of being in a position of power? Yes they absolutely have different opinions.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

I was originally going to say “nothing”, then I remembered Lucio has one. So Skylar’s currently sitting at a “nothing” with an asterisk of “unless I remember something”.

Lucio’s is being around Skylar when Skylar’s sick. Lucio has a phobia of catching whatever’s going around after the plague and has to nope out of situations where he’s around illness. That being said he is hyper aware of Skylar’s health, as after leaving Vesuvia Skylar becomes more prone to colds and flues.

14. What would be a dealbreaker?

Skylar's dealbreaker almost happened, which is someone's wants getting in the way of / actively opposing another's needs. Lucio's would be unfaithfulness.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Nothing they outright dislike, but they do recognize the faults the other perceives in themselves and help them improve in that regard. For Skylar it’s his non-confrontational nature getting his needs and wants ignored. For Lucio it’s empathizing with others and taking responsibility for, and dealing with, the consequences of his actions.

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

How dare you.

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Never in anyone’s life would Lucio have expected to get an attachment to the smell of books yet here he is. The same goes for hot chocolate. Skylar walks into the makeup department and it’s just like walking past Lucio’s collection.

18. What would be their love motto?

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

This isn’t in the marriage vows because they have the awareness to go “if we say half the things we feel in front of anybody, concerns we are not equipped to address in an acceptable way will be raised.” After the ceremony, when they’re on their own, this exchange happens:

Lucio: “Love me. Until we’ve been dead so long our bones are dust.” Skylar: “Not good enough. It’ll have to be until the world is ash.”

20. What is a promise they have made to each other?

Similar ones to what’s above. Trauma-induced codependency reinforced by magic ritual body trading meta sure is something.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

For the better: by helping one another with the issues listed in question fifteen. For the worse: they gain a lot of codependence for stated meta reasons, along with a very deep-seated fear of losing each other again.

In the end they do leave Vesuvia. Ultimately they are going the route of “this is a very important lesson we’ve learned about responsibility and the consequences of our actions. Now let’s get the fuck out of the city we’re responsible for and one of us nearly ruined with his actions.” They acknowledge the hypocrisy of this, and while in the end they’re better off outside Vesuvia it is there.

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Because I’m a sucker for them the answer’s yes. They only hit the love stage to begin with because Lucio was able to put the work into unlearning and breaking the cycle of the worst parts of his tribe’s culture. I will say though that Lucio staying with the tribe would make it vastly more difficult for them to meet. Skylar still does his traveling, as his parents didn’t have any major expectations beyond “well-functioning adult” when raising him, but considering how infamous the warring tribes of the south are I don’t see travel into the steppes being easy or recommended.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

I honestly may come back to these but 300 words is a lot for my amount of spoons rn.

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

“Skylar has never done anything wrong in his life.” - Lucio Arcanagame

Salsa’s definitely destroyed a few things Lucio’s particular towards, and as it’s impossible for Lucio to be mad at any of his fur babies Skylar gets the brunt of it.

Along with Lucio getting snippy with him for Salsa mauling his good shirts, Skylar’s had to forgive Lucio for a lot. Mostly it’s Lucio-isms that make things get blown out of proportion. Then there’s the Coliseum. And Lucio’s deals. And the plague.

25. What moves do they know work on the other?

“Want to have sex?” / “Yes.”

If all else fails, Lucio knows he can get Skylar out of a book and back to real life by smoochin’ behind Skylar’s ears.

26. What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex?

Sex is a cathartic extension of their shared love language, physical affection. The orgasms are an added bonus.

27. Do they have any kinks/fetishes that they share?

All of them. Like I say it as a joke but it’s just easier writing-wise to have them on the same level. Realistically it’s like 80-90%. Both of them want to please their partner and have a good time doing so. Their communication on that front is solid.

28. Write a ~300 fantasy one of them has about the other.

This question is acephobic.

29. What are each of their signature foreplay moves?

“Want to have sex?” / “Yes.”

30. Write a short exchange of dirty talk between them.

What up I’m Olli I’m almost 27 and I still haven’t learned how to write porn.

Lucio:

“Does puppy want me to fill him up?” “So precious…” “Look. Look at what I’m doing to you.” “Beg for it.” “Not yet. You piss when I tell you to.” “Do you like the taste of your cum that much?” “Good boy.”

Skylar:

“How you feeling, handsome?” “Are you ready to behave?” “What a mess you are.” “Fuck me so full I can’t move.” “You want to be good, don’t you?” “Master.” “Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Fuck me, fuck me.”

31. What do they love to do after sex?

Shared baths.

32. Do they enjoy morning or night sex?

Why are we limiting when the sex happens? The time of day doesn’t affect their enjoyment of it. They’re exhibitionists with impunity there is literally no limit on when the sex can happen.

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 8: Sports

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 7

“Do I even need to ask?” David snapped. Uncle Charlie just smiled smugly turning his hand around. The entire table groaned in annoyance. 

“It’s not what it looks like, promise” Don spoke up. 

“You brother hustling us?” one of Don’s friends Mike muttered. 

“I’ve only played once before” Charlie informed as they collected the cards to deal another round of poker. “I actually have a one in eight chance of hitting a set when I’m holding a pocket pair. I’m about 50/50 to draw a flush with suited cards in my hand, two off the draw. I also count my outs I- I multiply by two. I add one. That’s roughly my percentage of hitting.” he explained. 

“Card math” I muttered over my father’s shoulder as I walked past the table. Leaning over to snag some chips out of the snack bowl. 

“Mr. Eppes you need to take my seat, your son is killing us” David declared as Alan brought out more chips. 

“No, not me” Gramps objected “the only other time Charlie played, I learned my lesson about gambling with a mathematician” 

“Hey could I-” 

“No” Don cut me off “Ms. I-can’t-help-but-card-count” 

“Not my fault I was born with perfect visual memory” I muttered as my father got up and headed to the kitchen. 

“Hey weren’t we playing with bottle caps?” Charlie pointed out to his father.

“Yeah or else you’d have walked away with the pink slip to my car” Alan informed. 

“You know, there is some element of chance here” Charlie explained “you know I- I may just be getting lucky.” 

“Or you're just unlucky,” David joked to Mike. 

“That’s funny Sinclair keep that up. It comes back to me when baseball starts” Mike countered taking a swig of his beer as dad returned and handed me a Mountain Dew as he sat down with his glass of water. 

“Baseball?” Charlie questioned “”the FBI have a team?” 

“Yeah, we got a whole league.” David explained “there’s, uh, LAPD, Sheriffs’ department” 

“D.A.’s got the killer squad” Mike commented “Now that Kraft’s in San Diego, you guys don’t have a power hitter.” 

“What about Don?” Charlie suggested. 

“It’s not my thing” Don objected 

“Oh, you play?” Mike inquired. 

“Don went to college on a baseball scholarship,” Charlie informed. “What are you talking about? You played pro second base.” 

“Single A about a million years ago” Don muttered. 

“That’s great. It means you’re this year’s ringer.” Mike grumbled. 

“Nope. I’m sorry.” Don objected quickly “not interest buddy” 

“Come on, you gotta do it” David asked hopefully as Don’s phone rang. 

“Excuse me” he murmured to us answering it. “Eppes… we’ll be right there” he declared, getting to his feet. 

I sighed and shuffled back toward the kitchen where Alan was. “Looks like I’m spending the night,” I informed. 

He looked up at me confused “really? Why?” 

Just then Don popped into the doorway pulling on a jacket “hey dad I just got called in can she stay here tonight?” 

I gave my grandfather a look who sighed “yes of course” 

“Thanks,” Don murmured heading out. 

______________

3rd POV. 

“I’ve never seen him before,” Mr. Bayle declared, handing Don back the photo of Salazar. 

“Are you sure?” the agent asked. 

“Yeah” the man confirmed. 

“I mean, maybe he did some work for you guys around here.” Don persisted. 

“Yeah, he could have. I wouldn’t know” Bayle explained “Lisa was in charge of all that.” 

“I’m just trying to figure out if there’s any possibility that this man knew your wife.” Don insisted as they stepped from the other man’s kitchen into his living room. 

“Why?” Bayle inquired with a shrug as he stopped to face Don. 

“You’re not going to want to hear this” Don prefaced reluctantly “but there are some questions about Cliff Howard’s conviction” 

“The bastard said he did it,” Bayle scoffed. 

“I know,” Don nodded. 

“I haven’t seen you in a year” Bayle continued “I haven’t seen you since you interrogated me for 48 hours.” 

“Sir..” Don tried to speak up but the other man continued. 

“I had to call the funeral home handcuffed to a table.” 

“I was pursuing your wife’s murder wherever it took me” Don attempted to explain his actions. “So help me..” he paused shaking his head and biting his lip and Bayle took the moment to speak again.

“Now you want to tear these wounds open again.” 

“I don’t want to do that,” Don objected adamantly. 

Both men paused to breathe and Don’s eyes wandered over to the mantel where he spotted a picture he recognized he shuffled over to point at it “that’s your, uh, your daughter. What’s her name? Paula?” he asked, trying to remember. 

“Yes” Jonas answered, his voice still tense with emotion. 

“Right. May I?” Don gestured to the photo. 

“Go ahead,” Bayle allowed. Don took the photo from the mantel and looked at the young girl. “She’s a sophomore now.” 

“Yeah, so is my daughter,” Don admitted. 

“You have a daughter?” Jonas asked, surprised. 

Don nodded “her names Abby.” he chuckled slightly with a bittersweet spike in his gut “yeah she came to live with me not too long ago after her mother died, car crash” 

“I’m sorry” Bayle murmured, shifting on his feet. 

Don replaced the photo and turned to face the other man. “Jonas, don’t you want to know the truth about your wife’s death?” 

“Cliff Howard is the truth,” Bayle insisted. 

______________

Abby POV. 

“Okay tell me I’m crazy” Larry declared, setting his pencil down and rubbing his face with his hands. “I think I’ve just found a way to express Calabi-Yau manifolds in a way that goes beyond the existence of a nonvanishing harmonic spinor.” 

“You're crazy,” I muttered, taking another bite of my food. 

“Ch- Charles” Larry whined when he received no response from his fellow mathematician. 

“Has he been out there all night?” Uncle C questioned turning away from the window he had been gazing out of. Watching my father play basketball. 

“Well, on the bright side it seems like Don’s taken up an interest in sports again.” Alan commented. 

Charlie sighed taking the seat next to me “it’s like the evidence proves him right and wrong at the same time” 

“Oh, yeah, the old paradox of Schroedinger’s cat.” Larry murmured. 

“Is that that persian that keeps hiding out in our garage?” Alan inquired. 

“No, that's the Myers down the street’s cat” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink. 

“It’s an intellectual exercise,” Charlie explained. 

“I knew that,” Alan lied. 

“Okay this is vastly simplified” Larry prompted “there’s a cat in a box. 50/50 chance it’s been poisoned, but now here’s the paradox: until such time as we can open the box and observe the cat, for that time, that cat is both alive and dead.” 

“Larry I-I fail to see the analogy, though.” Charlie objected “I mean, in reality Don can’t be both right and wrong at the same time.” 

“Well, of course not.” Alan chimed in “I mean, if a man is both right and wrong, then something’s gotta be wrong.” 

“Positive and a negative equal a negative?” I scoffed. 

“No. the truth of Schroedinger’s cat is that the question itself is meaningless until we look inside the box.” Larry informed. 

“So you could ask a whole different question” I voiced. 

“For a whole different result” Larry finished. Uncle Charlie immediately straightened and turned to look at the window again. Before getting up and heading outside after his brother. “Well and off he goes again to help solve the unjust of the world” 

“You can always tell when he gets an idea he spaces out then runs” I muttered. 

Larry hummed in agreement “you know you are quite insightful young enigma quite like your uncle I’m surprised you’ve yet to push ahead of your peers in academia like he so did” 

“Oh here we go” Alan muttered. 

“Well I’ve tried they won’t put me in advanced classes because I wasn’t in school consistently as a kid.” I explained. 

“Well that’s absurd a brilliant mind shouldn’t be held back by the amount of desks they haven’t sat at or lectures they’ve witnessed” Larry voiced in annoyance. 

“Preaching to the choir,” I told him. 

“Yes but do me a favor and don’t get on the soap box of yours again” Gramps asked me. 

I nodded in agreement and picked at the last bits of food on my plate. “You know what?” Larry spoke up causing me and Alan to look at him but his eyes were trained on me “you should attend CalSci once you’ve escaped high school. We have no such requirements if you show the aptitude” 

“I don’t know I’m still looking at quite a bit of time being forced to look at this stuff in school let alone do I want to keep having to do school work beyond it.” I pointed out. 

“No no no” Larry objected waving his hands “it’s not like that at CalSci you can learn what you want and gain knowledge and work to gather more knowledge of the universe itself with a very hands on approach” 

I sighed finishing off my dinner and gathered my dishes. “I’ll think about it” 

“Very well” Larry accepted the answer as I stood up. 

“You done?” Alan asked. 

“Yeah” I murmured, taking my dishes into the kitchen. I glanced out the window and spotted my Uncle joining my father in his basketball playing. I loved basketball. The one sport I was decent at. As I watched my mind different back to just shortly before I went to live with my father here. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

3rd POV. 

“Yo Calvin” Abby looked up from where she was sitting with her back to a wall in the courtyard book in hand. A girl named Naomi was looking at her from the basketball court with the ball tucked under her arm. Other girls around her were glancing in Abby’s direction and muttering to each other. “We need a even number get over here” 

Abby hesitated. Veronica was standing on the court eyeing her with the same hate in her eyes. However after one of her accomplices came over and whispered in her ear she nodded her agreement with the situation.  

Abby sighed and closed her book getting up and heading to the court. “‘ight y’all line up me and V will choose the teams,” Naomi declared. 

Abby stood in line with the seven other girls they had goated into playing with them. Veronica stuck to choosing her pals and Naomi was smart enough not to choose them but Veronica only had three friends and Abby ended up being the last one on the line as Naomi chose the girl next to her. 

“Calvin and V on the same team” one of the girls on Naomi’s team voiced “this’ll be interesting.” 

Abby scoffed and took her position on the court. “Hey bookworm don’t get in the way” Veronica snapped. 

“Then stay out of mine” Abby shrugged. Veronica shot her a glare as the other girls jeered. 

“Hey let’s play” Naomi called everyone’s attention. 

The game started out easy. Naomi had the ball and was heading down the court. Abby intercepted her snagging the ball easily and heading down the court when she was slammed in the side hitting the ground. Veronica had the ball now and shot it into the hoop. 

“Hey!” Abby yelled getting back to her feet “thought we were on the same team” 

“Thought I said stay out of my way” Veronica retaliated coming up to get Abby’s face. 

“Hey knock it off” Naomi pushed between the girls “either play or leave and sort your shit out the way you normally do and land in the infirmary” 

“You telling me what to do, china?” Veronica snarled at Naomi. 

Naomi shifted back a bit “I’m actually Korean not that it matters but what I’m trying to do is play some basketball. Now you two can go duke it out if you want at least it’ll keep the teams even” 

Veronica scoffed “whatever” she stalked back onto the court. 

Abby sighed and followed the game started up again and Abby barely touched the ball as it was passed from player to player. Until it got to a point where they had five minutes left of courtyard time and Naomi’s team was up by one. 

“We need to score. You beat Naomi at ball, that's a serious brag even with dead weights like Harp and Richards on her team” Veronica’s lacky Fiona stated. 

“Yeah well we aren’t going to if Veronica tries to score again” Abby muttered to the rest of the huddle. 

“You saying I can’t shoot Calvin?” Veronica turned to her angry. 

“No I’m saying our entire strategy has been geared to give you glory this entire time and they’ve figured that out” Abby explained “that’s why they’ve blocked our last five attempts.” 

“What? You want us to pass it to you?” Veronica asked “that ain’t how that works Calvin” 

“I don’t care who you pass it to” Abby shrugged “you just gotta pass it” 

Veronica thought about it a moment “Alright Fi you take it” she declared. “Let’s go” 

“Okay” Fiona muttered, sounding unsure. 

The game started and Naomi’s team got the ball dribbling down the court. Veronica intercepted as Abby and Fiona headed down opposite sides of the court. Veronica looked to pass it and saw Naomi guarding Fiona who was looking less than confident. Then she saw Calvin raise her hand. She was completely open. No one expected Veronica to pass the ball to the one girl she beat up every other day. 

Veronica passed the ball. Abby caught it easy and dribbled it a step before shooting it circled the hoop before dropping in to the cheers of the team.

“Alright ladies time to get inside” one of the matron’s called from the door the girls shuffled to the door Naomi scooping the ball. 

“Nice shot Calvin” Naomi told her, shoving her shoulder as she passed. 

Abby grabbed her book and headed inside. She was heading down the hall at a casual pace before she was pinned to the wall. Veronica had her collar. “That was a one time thing you got that?” 

Abby blinked at the other girl “really? You're so insecure about your status you have to make that point?” she asked with every ounce of sass she could muster. 

Veronica growled and threw her to the floor Abby got on her feet and shoved Veronica’s middle. The bigger girl pushed her away and soon they were grabbing at each other pulling hair and scratching. Soon someone was there to pull them apart. 

“Why do any of us expect different of those two?” Abby heard Naomi mutter to Fiona as Abby and Veronica were led to the infirmary.  

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Abby POV.

“Bye Uncle Charlie” I called from the shade as the mathematician peeled off the fence of the batting cages and headed back to his car. 

“Bye Abbs” Charlie replied with a wave. I glanced over at my father as another crack of baseball on bat sounded. He was really starting to get into a rhythm, a proud smile on his face. I smiled lightly and returned to my reading. However there was only a moment of peace before Don appeared grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig.

“You want to take a few whacks?” He asked, gesturing to the batting cage. 

I shot another look over at the ball spitter. “Uh no thanks I’ve never really..” I trailed off gesturing at the cage with an implied statement and apathetic wave. 

Don looked at the cage then back at me with a small amount of shock evident in his face. “You’ve never played baseball before?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Maybe once in gym class” I shrugged answering honestly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Donald but I’m kinda on the nerd side of things” 

Don scoffed. “Come on” he grabbed my book and much to my relief remembered to put the bookmark in its place before closing it. “No daughter of mine is going to go through life without playing baseball”

I scoffed as I was pulled to my feet and given a helmet. I would normally put up a bit more of a fight but I knew that this sport meant a lot to him. So I kept my remarks to myself and went along with it. We headed out to the cage. He showed me what position to take. How to hold the bat properly and watch the ball. 

Even with his coaching it took a while before I actually hit the ball. When I did it was quite auspicious to us both. Despite it not going anywhere near where we wanted it to go. There was a lot of laughing and joking and we both left happy reliving the events in story with some subtle elaborations. Don excited to take me back some time.

Chapter 9 -> 

[bounward]

phoenix * caelia * r.e ending choice

Their time to decide passed all too quickly. 

Perhaps it was for the best to cut it off much sooner rather than much later, however. Even Caelia was beginning to believe that she could have gone back and forth on the decision for eternity, each conversation she held in their time showing surprise that she was even considering rejecting the option to return home due to whatever dilemma they related to and further chipping away at whatever resolve she may have managed to build up by then. To try and buy more time would surely only be letting what she saw on those screens run away even further ahead of her, and then what would she make of it?

She would have to face this swirling void eventually.

But that didn’t mean Caelia had an answer. 

It felt wrong, really, to have to stand there and boil down two completely different lifetimes of possibilities in such a formal setting in such little time, reskinned as contracts and experience feedback surveys. Two different futures that branched out from herself akin to how she had desperately wished to be convinced any planned future would allow for her, chosen in the face of a bunch of cartoon animals. 

Laughable, honestly. But Caelia stood there grimmer than she had ever been, hands folded on the table in front of her - carefully, so as to not accidentally lock in an option on any screen - and head tipped downwards to stare at them, no hint of a smile on her face. For those close enough to be able to peek under that tipped head the expression was really one of clear grief: mourning one path, but still unable to decide which one. 

Caelia was selfish, Caelia was ambitious, Caelia had a duty she had built her whole life around taking to its available extreme and now the knowledge to go back and make it happen to possibly frightening degrees of precision. Contracts and agreements were so rarely exited as easily as was being presented to her, never mind anything on the scale of what this entire situation contained. Caelia had ended up killing someone over the suggestion of being living proof that fate was real and now the less violent extreme was here, with near solid proof of it going more in her favour than simply hoping to divert supposed destiny.  

It should have been easy.

Caelia did not think of herself as a bad friend. The rumour mill always turned within circles of Fae, of course, those more skeptical and aligned to others often trying to pinpoint the day that she grew tired of dancing around Amelie’s biases and forced the choice for herself in their closeness. But time and time again Caelia liked to think she had disproven that, and this one button press was written on the TV screens to be the largest, stubbornest kick in the teeth to those pessimistic people. One button press could wipe away any grief that clung to Amelie and go back to supporting her, improving upon all that progress she saw in her dear friend even in the face of such adversity.

But there was no guarantee there of what might come after her return.  

'A danger to herself, at the expense of Lusidiem'- a statement she would still argue with, but one thought from not even two days ago had stuck with her.

Who was 'herself'? What was the expense? 

The thought of still being able to shift around either could have brought a smile to her face, if the moment called for it.

There was no need to speak in this ‘trial’ of sorts; so much so the event couldn’t even really be called that despite what it mimicked, but a sense of duty stirring lifted Caelia’s chin up and pulled the words from her practically unbidden with the force her heart was fighting to avoid being ripped out. Or perhaps it was simply just to cement the reality to herself, through the power words with intent held.

“I’m going to stay.” 

The choice rang in the air and in her head, tired yet firm, barely even sounding like her own voice to her. 

“I suppose I should appreciate those of you who told me they surely expected me to go home. This is not a decision I take lightly- I practically wish I did not have the option at all. But...” 

Her hand hovered over the selection screen as she faltered, freezing as her words did. 

Until her next line forced the action downwards, cleanly switching the track. 

“But I cannot gamble with Amelie, as I have seen how events played out in my world. If it must be decidedly unfair for one of us or quite possibly both of us... this is what I agreed to, surely?”

Much like their setting, agreement was far too clinical a description. But even in her sense of duty it was all Caelia wished to go into publicly, for there was no way she could work herself into explaining all behind it. To try to do so would be to try and explain a lifetime of friendship, one they had agreed to stretch out as far as they could. Yet Caelia now knew to uphold it, she had to give it up. 

She didn’t truly wish to do either. But one side vastly outweighed the other now. 

Mourning yourself was an odd thing to do. Her eyes stung but didn’t shed, her mind struggling to pin down and extract any feeling to latch onto from all the thoughts and plans and assumptions it was now rapidly throwing out to make room for her new decision. It would be easy to assume Caelia thought nothing of what she had just committed to given that the way her mind was desperately trying to twist itself to accommodate this new future left her standing there completely blank, with it being easy to miss the hollow look in her eyes. Gradually her heart stopped struggling against trying to rip itself apart rather than decide and settled dully, sulking almost, letting a sober void open up there instead. 

Though it would take a couple of hours or days to sprout, surely, there was a small seed of resolution right in the middle of it.

Caelia Ashidiem and all she originally hoped and planned for was dead.

But maybe somewhere out there was a domain of her own that would feel more understanding for being hers, modelled into something familiar until Caelia the reaper properly lived alongside Caelia the princess-

And maybe there was a world’s worth of people for her to oversee and help in a way that her home and its politics could never have quite reached to, always a little too curious to hear about her home in the world they came from but never truly diverting from what was now hers to maintain- 

And maybe, if she dared to dream, there was a day where a now-Queen would arrive close to her orbit, and they could have the eternity together they had always expected Amelie to have to cut off first, but until then there would sometimes be a night breeze she could never quite place-

The world really did have a funny way of offering choices on the path sometimes. 

[winterisakillerwrites]

Wanderlust

Title: Wanderlust

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Callie Williams (OFC)

Genre: romance/angst

Rating: Mature

Summary: He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart. Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see.

Authors Notes/Warnings: This is a follow-up/sequel to Old Flames. I started this shortly after I posted the original story and it took awhile to get these idiots to tell me just what was going to happen. And this is the end result. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

She is truly stunning. The thought stole its way across Tom’s mind as he watched her sleep beside him; peaceful and content. There was something about her that had captured him right from the beginning. He’d known she’d felt it too; he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she touched him, in every glance. And even now, years later, he couldn’t deny that she still held such sway over him.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how infrequently they saw one another; Callie was always in his thoughts. He thought of her whenever something made him laugh and he knew it would amuse her as well. She was the first person he wanted to call when he found a role that challenged him or when he gotten whatever part he’d been dying for. She was also the first one he wanted to talk to when something had gone terribly wrong and he needed a friendly voice. Callie was the one person whose voice he longed to hear on good days and especially on bad. But something had always stayed his hand; always made him hold back. He could barely begin to count the number of times he’d started to dial her number only to hang up at the last moment.  

It was hopeless, really. Tom had known it from the start. They had always been in such different places in their lives, had lived to very different worlds. He lived for his work; for the ability to travel, to try on new characters and challenges and to push himself as far as he dared. Sitting in one place for too long brought on an anxiety he couldn’t quite put into words. There was so much to see, so much to do, and so very, very little time in which to do so. How could he risk turning down a role when there was no guarantee he would get the chance to try it again? How could he say no to a promotional tour or meeting when the opportunity may not ever reoccur?

Callie, on the other hand, had loved the consistency and steadfastness of her life. She’d worked hard to get where she was; worked harder still to keep herself the best she could possibly be and, as such, enjoyed the comfort and security of knowing who and what she was and just what she’d wanted out of her life. Callie valued her own time and to simply just be. She was content to sit for hours reading in her worn leather chair by the window in her cozy living room and had done so as often as possible. She didn’t need the glitz and the glamour Tom had always seemed so at home in. His world didn’t make sense to her; it had never held any appeal for her.

It was one of the many things he cherished about her. He was simply Tom with her. No demands, no mask, just himself. And he’d loved that. Loved her. Not just in the physical sense, though he could not deny that the physicality between them had always been electric, but all of her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she cared about those who mattered to her and those she barely knew. The quiet strength and resolve she possessed no matter the challenges she faced. She never ceased to amaze him for simply being who she was.

And if he were to be honest with himself, he could admit she was everything he’d ever really wanted. They clicked in a way he’d had with anyone before or after. But they were too different; lived in two vastly different worlds. Their lives hadn’t and would never mesh in any way which would work. He knew it. And he knew she did too. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to. And he did. Desperately.

That was one of the many reasons he’d found himself here, again, tangled up in his bed with her. Why he let himself open to her when he knew there was very little chance of an actual future between then. It always happened. He’d fought it at first, knowing that giving in would only make the hurt worse in the end. But it had all been in vain. He couldn’t fight the electricity nor the bond between them. And, in all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t have her, not in the way he’d longed for; he knew it all too well. So this, these stolen moments, would have to do. But they wouldn’t last. They couldn’t. Eventually, and he feared it would be sooner rather than later, they would have to part. For good. And that hurt more than he let himself think on. The idea of never again holding her in his arms, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, burnt him to the core. But he couldn’t seem to see any other way.

Callie turned in her sleep, the sheet that had been pulled over her shoulder slipped revealing a full, round breast and the smooth curve of her shoulder. She snuggled closer against Tom’s side, the warmth of her skin against his sent shivers down his spine. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, in sleep and he was torn between wanting to simply watch her do so and the desire to wake her and have her at least once more before reality pulled them apart again.  

It had barely been a month since he’d seen her in the club, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she moved in time with the pulsing music. Seeing here there, just a handful of feet away from him, had thrown Tom; though, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have. London was only so big and he’d always known that seeing her was inevitable. But still, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes at first. It had been so long; with his work and travel it had been months since he’d been in one place longer than a few days that wasn’t strictly for work. And even longer since he’d been home for any set length of time. Yet, there she was. He hadn’t let himself think about the consequences of his actions then; he’d simply gone to her. He’d needed her in a way he hadn’t needed anyone else.

And it had been wonderful; the feel of her skin against his, her breathy moans in his ear, the weight of her against him, above him. He’d woken the morning after in her bed, watching her as she watched him from the doorway. He’d wanted to tell her then how beautiful she was to him; just how much he had missed her, how badly he wanted her in his life, in his bed, always. But that would shatter the fragile thing between them. It would break the unspoken rule of whatever this was they were doing. So he’d said nothing and let himself walk out of her life once again. It was funny, really, how he was the one who always seemed to walk away. He’d never let himself think on it; wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it. But it didn’t make it any less true. He hadn’t been able to stay away though, had sought her after; needing to be near her, to pretend just for a little while longer that this could work. That she’d wanted it to work just as badly as he did. Just for a little while

Tom shifted in the bed, running a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved in several days and it clearly showed. Callie stirred beside him, rolling tighter against him, her leg slipping between his and her head resting against his bare chest. He could feel the stiff peak of her nipple against his skin and bit back a groan at the sensation.

He wanted her; he’d always wanted her. That had never been the problem. Or, well, he mused, maybe it is. They had clicked so perfectly in the physical sense; she’d caught his eye from the moment he’d first seen her and he’d wanted her then more than he’d thought possible. But that had only been the start of it. Now…now it was so much more. And he knew deep in the marrow of himself that it wouldn’t be enough. The wanting her. The loving her. Not when she hadn’t wanted the spotlight that being with him would place on her.

His life, the demands it placed on him, it left little if any time for something real. And dragging Callie into it only to hurt her…He wasn’t sure he could live with it. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to live with it. With knowing he would be gone more often than not; knowing that she couldn’t be his biggest priority. Knowing there would be times when he would have to choose between time with her and his career and that his career would most likely need to win. And then the lack of privacy. He knew his fan base, had seen them tear into the lives of women he dated in the past…And ones he’d barely known, just for the simple fact he was seen with them. It was something he wanted to save her from if he could. Knowing it wasn’t what she had wanted. Knowing that he couldn’t walk away from his life, not when he’d worked so hard for all he’d achieved, not when he would end up resenting her for it if he did. And she would resent him for dragging her into it all. She’d been clear that the idea of a spotlight on her life scared her; that she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle, that she wanted to handle.

And knowing that meant there was only one option left and the thought of it crushed him. He would have to leave…for good this time. No turning back, no second thoughts. Pulling her back into his life, even this private part of it, would be the height of cruelty for them both. Not when he couldn’t give her what they both wanted; a life together; safe and private and theirs. But the very thought of walking away made his blood run cold. He was a coward of the worst sort and he knew it. Putting this off, pretending this wasn’t just a temporary respite in the chaos of his life. That this didn’t have to end. He wished he were stronger. Wished he could keep her, keep this. And knowing all the same he couldn’t.

“Stop thinking so hard,” her sleep laced voice grumbled from against his side. “Your making my head hurt.”

Tom laughed despite himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching down to brush her hair from her eyes. “How did you sleep?” He tried to keep his voice light and airy but he could see his efforts fell woefully short. He could see the knowledge of it in her eyes. Callie always seems to be able to see straight through him. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“You don’t have to do this, Tom.” Her voice was quiet and far too even. He watched as she pushed herself up and away from him, clutching the sheet to her chest. Covering herself from his gaze just as she distanced herself from him emotionally.

He wanted to scream, to beg her not to walk away. It was stupid and selfish, he knew it. But the desire was overwhelming all the same. “No, please…” Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to grasp at hers, holding her still. “I don’t….Callie…”

She let out a soft, resigned sigh, “We both know how this ends, Tom. You trying to sugar coat the fact you’re leaving and not coming back doesn’t make it any better. For once just fucking be honest with me. With yourself.”

The words, though calmly spoken, cut him deeply. He was a coward, he’d known that. But to have that thrown, however matter of fact, in his face stung. “Callie...This is...What are we doing?”

Her dark eyes locked on his, “I used to hope....” She trailed off, pulling her hand out of his grasp and climbed fully off of the bed. “I know what I want Tom. And I think you do as well. But I don’t think you know what you want and until you do...I don’t think I can do this,” she gesticulated wildly between them, “anymore.”

She was dressed and out the door before he could force himself to utter another word.

Tom sat dumbfounded on the bed, trying desperately to figure out just what had happened. He let out a string of curses, hitting his balled fist on the mattress. He should have run after her. Why hadn’t he just run after her? He should never have let her leave in the first place. Not with things so uncertain between them. Not when her words hinted that maybe, just maybe he’d read the situation all wrong. But it was too late now. She was gone.

He rested his head in is upturned hands and let out a sigh. God, he was a fucking idiot. How had he let things get so far out of hand? He cursed again, knowing it wouldn’t help. A small part of him, one he fought steadfast to ignore, wondered if maybe it wasn’t better this way. Simply letting her go and letting things end. Doing nothing. But the larger part of him screamed that if he let himself just do nothing then he would be nothing more than the coward she’d called him in all but name.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he cursed under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Tom, you utter, utter wanker.”

Callie had made a very good point; he’d allowed himself to be drawn into whatever it was between them without considering what he truly wanted…Or, well, without allowing himself to either accept the hard work involved in what he wanted or to acknowledge he wasn’t ready and simply walk away. Instead he kept letting the same thing happen, refusing to see the toll it was taking on them both. But knowing that internally and then having it spoken aloud were two vastly different things and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Wasn’t sure just what to do.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms he’d left hanging on the back of his chair near the window the night before. He checked the impulse to call her and beg her to come back. That would surely cause more problems that it would solve. He needed to get himself straight before he risked making things worse between him and Callie. Though I’m not sure how much worse it could be, he thought with wryly. And he hadn’t wanted to find out.

As it stood, Callie probably had little desire to see him again let alone speak with him. And he couldn’t really blame her. What he had done was the height of selfishness, even if it hadn’t ever been his intention to be so. If he approached her without really knowing if it was because he wanted to rather than because he felt he should…Tom was well aware he could so easily lose her for good. That was something he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

Coffee, he decided with a cool certainty, I need coffee. Coffee and a fucking miracle. While it brewed he would have time to think, really think, and then be able to come to what he feared, and knew with a grim certainty, would be quite difficult decisions. His footsteps echoed softly on the stairs as he made his way down to the lower level and towards the kitchen.

Sunlight poured in from the front windows, bathing the hallway and kitchen in bright, warm light. He pattered towards the cupboard above the sink, pulling a tin of ground dark roast coffee from the uppermost shelf and placing it onto the counter before the coffee press his younger sister had given him as a house warming gift years ago. Turning, he grabbed a mug from a nearby cabinet, a light blue one he’d had for ages with a chip on one side of its rim, and set it beside the tin of coffee. He made quick work of setting water to boil in a kettle by the stove and placing several scoops of coffee into the bottom of the press, allowing his mind to wander as he did so.

One thing he knew with certainty was Callie had become infinitely important to him. These moments he had with her were little life lines in the chaos his life inherently was. And he’d used it, selfishly, knowing but not really allowing himself to think on the fact there were more than just his feelings involved. It was equally clear to him that Callie cared about him, that she had for a long while now. He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart.

Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see. That thought pulled him up short. Judging from her reaction, he feared that might very well have been the case. Had he really been so blind? So wrapped up in what he wanted, that he missed the change in her? A bitter laugh fell from his lips. No wonder she’d been so cold, so defeated.

Tom rubbed his face with his hands once again. God, this was a mess. He’d been so certain before she’d woken, so damn certain that walking away was the only real path left for them. That his flitting in and out of her life, sharing her bed for these brief sojourns, was only causing them both unnecessary and avoidable pain. But now…Now when it was abundantly clear that she herself intended to sever their tenuis connection if he couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted between them, the idea filled him with dread. The reality of never seeing her again, never holding her, never being able being able to just simply be with her again, shook him to his core.

The faint whistle of the kettle pulled Tom reluctantly back into reality. Tea towel in hand, he removed the kettle and poured the steaming water into the opened press. Tom stood, watching as the coffee steeped, his mind replaying the look on her face just before she’d grabbed her clothing and gone. It was a knife to the heart; her resigned heartache. The pained and weary acceptance that sat in her eyes, had been painted across her face. And he hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t done all in his power to get her to stay and talk. He really was a coward after all.

Once satisfied with the strength, Tom worked the plunger with the smooth fluidity of years of practice and soon the strong scent of hot, fresh coffee filled the small, brightly lit kitchen. He poured himself a cup and, once it was doctored to his liking, headed into the living room. He let himself settle on the couch, propping his feet on the edge of the wooden coffee table.

The house was unnaturally quiet. It was something he used to revel in. Things in his life were so rarely quiet these days and he’d learned to take his solace in whatever silence could be found. But now…Now it felt oppressive. He shook his head and took a sip of his steaming coffee. He hissed as it burned his tongue. It was still too hot for consumption but he desperately needed the caffeine. Tom forced another sip before placing the mug onto the side table. He scrubbed his face with his opened hand before leaning his head back. This was a mess, pure and simple.

No matter what he chose, it would be an uphill battle. Between wanting to protect her privacy and his own, being with her would provide complication…And truly walking away and never coming back, that was unbearable. No matter what he chose, it would hurt them both. But staying and trying to fight to make something work between them…He knew with startling clarity that he’d wanted it more than he could find words for. It wouldn’t be easy but then again nothing in life worth having ever really was. And, truthfully, he’d never been one for the easier path. If he was mistaken though…If they tried this and she couldn’t handle it…Didn’t want to handle it…

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. If they tried and she couldn’t or didn’t want to handle what his life would entail…Then he would do his best to carry on. Things in life were never guaranteed, Tom knew that better than most. He’d had plenty of relationships fall apart, lost people he’d believed would always be there. It had hurt but he’d survived it. And logically, he knew if things between him and Callie fell apart he would desperately hurt but his world would not end. But understanding did little to stifle the feeling of panic. God, he was overthinking this.

Tom reached for his coffee mug and took another sip, cringing as the cold coffee poured into his mouth. How long had he been sitting there? Annoyed, he pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the kitchen and placed the mug in the microwave. Forty seconds would do the trick. As he watched the mug spin lazily around, Tom once again allowed his mind to wander.

What he wanted was simple. He wanted her. Wanted her in his life, not just his bed. Wanted to know she would be waiting for him when he came back from his travels. Wanted her to come with him whenever she could. But what she wanted, he wasn’t completely certain. He thought he’d known before and he’d apparently been completely mistaken. And if it was mistaken again…

They would need to talk, really talk. And then he would have to take whatever came of such a conversation, be it good or ill, and make the best of it. But would she be willing to talk with him? If she wouldn’t…He took another deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. There was only one way to find out.

Tom took the stairs two at a time, quickly making his way into the bedroom. His mobile was sitting on the bedside table, connected to its charging cord. He unplugged and unlocked it in short order, scrolling through his contact list until he found her name. No time like the present…

He hit ‘dial’ and held his breath as the phone rang.

And rang.

Tom fought to ignore the knot in his stomach. She might not be home yet (though if his watch was to be believed it was nearing eleven. When she’d left it had been going on eight and she hadn’t lived too far). Or she’s choosing to ignore you, his mind helpfully chimed in.

He very nearly dropped the phone when the line finally clicked and Callie’s voice echoed in his ear. “What, Tom?”

He swallowed thickly before forcing himself to speak. And once he did the words came tumbling out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to and I understand that. But we do need to talk, Callie. I need to tell you things and I think there are things you need to tell me.”

The line was quiet and for a moment Tom feared she’d simply hung up on him. “I don’t…” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “Somewhere neutral. If we do this, we need to go somewhere neutral for both of us.”

“Yes,” he answered, understanding the logic of her request. Both his place and hers held far too many memories which would make this so much harder than it needed to be. “Um…There is a coffee shop a few streets over. They are pretty quiet and out of the way….We shouldn’t be bothered there.” Tom cursed the circumstances of his life for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. If he were just any other bloke they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard and having their conversation splashed across the front page of a tabloid as ‘entertainment’. They could meet and be free to honestly talk this out….And if he’d been just any other bloke then most likely none of this would be happening.

Tom ran a hand through his hair as he awaited her response; feeling the knots in his stomach tighten with alarming force.

“Okay,” she finally whispered. “Give me the address.”

Twenty minutes later found Tom sitting in one of the high backed booths in the back corner of the shop. His double espresso steamed gently before him, mostly untouched, and he found himself fighting the urge to jump and stare every time the front door bell chimed the entrance of another customer. Part of him feared she wouldn’t show. That she had decided to wash her hands of him once and for all. The idea stung but he knew she had every right to do just such a thing. To simply walk away…  

His attention snapped back to the present as the door chimed again. Callie had changed and showered since he’d seen her last, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she now wore an oversized green jumper and dark leggings. She looked comfortable but wary. Her smile was small and did not quite reach her eyes. “Hiya,” she greeted him before sliding into the other side of the booth.

“Would you care for…?” Tom gestured vaguely at his own cup.

Callie shook her head. “I’m good, thank you.” She folded her hands and placed them before her on the table. “You wanted to talk.” It was a statement, not question, and Tom found himself taken off guard by it.

He nodded, masking his unease with a sip of his espresso. “You were right.” Her eyes snapped up to his face, their brown depths echoing confusion and concern in equal measure. “This…What we are doing…It’s not working.”

Callie forced a nod. “It’s not.”

Tom started to reach for her hand, caught himself, and placed his own hands on the table. “You told me that you don’t believe that I know what I want and that it’s not fair to either of us…And in a way you were right.” He paused and took another sip. “I want you…And not just for a night or two…I want this…Us, to be something, but I thought…With what being with me entails…I believed you didn’t want any part of that…So I was selfish and I took what I could get…And I am sorry.”

She leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth. “And?” He could read the caution and doubt painted across her features as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud.

Her doubt and uncertainty shouldn’t have surprised him. After all he’d not been the most forthright person in this endeavor. And she’d been left waiting and wanting far too many times to take his words at face value. But it stung all the same. “I made the mistake of assuming I knew what you wanted…That you wouldn’t want more because of who I am and what that would mean. And that was wrong of me. I should have asked you outright instead of believing that you hadn’t changed your mind. And that is on me.” He took a deep breath. “But all the same I wish you had said something. Told me explicitly what you wanted. I can’t read your mind, Callie. I can’t know what you’re thinking. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain, but I didn’t know…Not really.”

Callie bristled slightly but nodded. “I should have and I own that. But to be completely honest I wasn’t sure how…Or if it was something you would have been willing to hear.”

It was Tom’s turn to bristle though he could not blame her for thinking as she had. He’d flitted in and out of her life without so much as a promise. How could she think anything but that? “Fair enough,” he murmured. He covered his unease once again with sip of his espresso. “We haven’t been clear with each other and that’s led us here.” He paused again, raising his head to hers. “But we can do better than this. I want us to be better. This…You and me, I want us to be more than just a few stolen nights. I want you in my life in a permanent way. I want us to be truly together.”

“So do I.”

The smile that spread across Tom’s face was exquisite. This was going far better than he’d dared hope it would. She wanted this, wanted him too. “Then let’s do this. Really do this, you and I.” He reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them gently. His smile fell as he caught the look of hopeful doubt in her eyes.

“They are wonderful words, Tom. And I want to believe them.” Callie offered a small, sad smile, pulling her hands back from his. “But how do I know that once we leave here and you go back to your life that you won’t just disappear again?”

“Because I won’t. I can’t.” Tom leaned across the table and took her hand again, imploring her to believe him. “Not again. I cannot let you walk out of my life simply because I chose the coward’s way out. I want this,” he squeezed her hand, “with you. I want to…take you to the cinema. To the theatre. I want to walk hand in hand with you in the park. And all those silly, small things people take for granted. I want that…All of it, with you.”

“I want that too, Tom. Believe me I do…I just…I need more than words. Can you understand that? This…If I do this…If we do this, I need to know for sure that you are in this. Really in this. I can’t…I can’t open myself up like this without knowing there is something solid…Something real there. I need more than words.”

Tom nodded, squeezing her hand. He hated her doubt, her lack of faith in his word. But he could understand it. “You need to be certain that I am substance, not air.” Callie nodded. He smiled softly, “I can understand that….I…” He paused, looking down briefly in thought before raising his eyes back to Callie’s dark brown ones. “There is a premiere I’ve been invited to…In Leicester Square next week…Would you come with me? As my date?”

Callie shot him an incredulous look. “Tom…I…I’ve never...” Her hands gesticulated wildly, both disbelief and uncertainty coloring her tone. “I don’t have a dress…”

Tom shook his head, raising his hand to place a finger over her lips to cease her rambling. “Please. I want you to come with me….I’ll handle everything; dress, make-up, hair, transport…Just say yes. Please.”

He watched the indecision play across her face and hoped with all he had she would say yes. She would give him this chance to prove that he meant it. That he wanted this. Wanted her in his life and that he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was aware too, that he was putting her very clearly on the spot, potentially throwing her metaphorically to the wolves. And that was the last thing he wanted. He had just opened his mouth to take it back, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, if she didn’t truly want to when she spoke.

“I…” Callie started, her attention turned briefly down to her hands on the table. “Alright.” The word came out softly and for a moment Tom was certain he’d not heard her correctly. And then she spoke again. “I’ll go.”

Tom smiled brightly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. He could see it in her face, in her eyes that she still was uncertain. Still held doubt. But she’d agreed and that was something. He could work on the rest. He could show her he meant it. And he would.

Luke hadn’t been best pleased at the work Tom had thrown his way and had told him so, often and loudly. “It’s not that I’m against you bringing someone; you have every right to do so, you great bloody git as I’ve told you for years now. It’s the fact you tell me less than six days before the damned premiere, expecting me to handle the details; a dress, make-up, hair…Dear god, man. I can do many things, Tom, but this is cutting it a bit fine don’t you think?”

Tom had apologized profusely but insisted nonetheless. Callie deserved it. If he was doing it, he was going to do it right. And Luke had come through, confirming the details with Callie and with Tom. It would be cutting it fine, but it had been doable, he’d assured them both. She would have a styling team and a decent selection of dresses sent to hers the day of the premiere and she and Tom would travel to the theater from hers (it would be a simple enough matter to have the car Luke had hired for Tom pick him up as originally planned and then swing by for her). The process had probably hastened the arrival of Luke’s grey hair and Tom knew he’d owe the man a very nice bonus for his troubles. And probably a very long, restful holiday.

He’d gotten the text from Luke stating that the team he’d arranged would be arriving at Callie’s in the late morning of the day of the premiere. And the morning of, had texted him to let him know they’d arrived. Tom let out a small sigh of relief, at least things were going to plan so far. His own final fitting wasn’t scheduled until later than afternoon and he found himself with the better part of the morning to kill. A run seemed immensely appealing just then. A chance to clear his head and focus his mind on something other than impending nerves. So he had made quick work changing into his usual running attire and headed out the door.

He was panting and drenched in sweat by the time he returned, but much calmer in mind and spirit. A quick glance at his watch told him he had enough time to shower before his own team would arrive. He wasted little time climbing the stairs and stripping off his running gear; leaving them in a pile by the bedroom door.

The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles and, had it been any other day, Tom would have easily stayed in the shower until he’d resembled a prune. The temptation was a strong one. But he hadn’t the luxury, not today; the coming evening was far too important for him to risk jeopardizing it. And certainly not for something so trivial. He made quick work of washing his hair and body, wrapping himself in the large, navy blue towel hanging behind the bathroom door. He padded back into his bedroom and grabbed the clean t-shirt and jogging bottoms he’d laid out.

He’d just finished rubbing his hair as dry as he could when the bell by the front gate rang. Upon confirming it was indeed his team, Tom buzzed them in and gave way to the chaos. Once he was suited and his hair had been coifed he’d found himself pacing around the living room, his earlier nerves bubbling back towards the surface. The car Luke had arranged was set to arrive at just after four, giving them plenty of time to make it to Callie’s flat and then to the theater. But four came and went.

Tom had tried very hard not to panic and had given it a good ten minutes before texting both Luke and the driving company for updates. Traffic, he’d been informed. There had been an accident shutting down several main roads and the car had been forced to detour. They should be no more than half an hour late. Tom had been as gracious as he could be with the news, though on the inside he was a seething mess of frustrated anxiety. Every call he’d made to Callie’s phone had gone to voicemail and she wasn’t answering any of the texts he’d sent either. He could only imagine what would be running through her head when the car hadn’t shown when expected.

At quarter past four the car pulled to a stop before Tom’s and he’d rushed out nearly as soon as he’d heard the bell. It was another fifteen minutes before the car pulled in front of Callie’s building. Tom had jumped from the car and taken the stairs to her flat two at a time, arriving at her door slightly out of breath. She opened it on his second knock and the apology that had been on the tip of his tongue vanished.

Simply put she was stunning. Her long, dark hair had been curled and hung loosely over one shoulder. Her dark eyes had been lined in kohl, her lips painted a stunning dark shade of red, only a few tones lighter than the dark burgundy of her dress. The dress left one shoulder bare and clung to her curves in the most sinful way, falling just past her knee. The heels she wore brought her to nearly his own height and the thought of what they could do in them flashed boldly through his mind.

“You look absolutely…Enchanting.” Tom breathed once words and sense had returned to him. He held his hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t note it’s slightly tremble. If he had thought Callie breathtaking before it was nothing…Nothing compared to the way she overwhelmed him now.

She took his hand, murmuring a brief and quiet ‘thank you’ but said nothing else as they made their way down the stairs and into the car. The ride to the theater was, thankfully, uneventful. Whatever nightmare the traffic had been earlier had cleared enough in spite of their later start they would still most likely make it to the theater on time. The idea should have filled Tom with relief but the silence radiating from Callie tempered it significantly.

“Callie, are you alright?” It was a stupid question and he’d known it the second it had left his lips. The set of her shoulders and the way she carefully did not look in his direction as they road spoke volumes.

“I’m fine,” she answered, briefly turning her head in his direction.

Tom let his gaze fall over her, uncertainty gnawing at him. He’d pushed for her to come, to do this with him. What if…What if this wasn’t what she’d wanted? Had he forced her, however unintentionally, into going along with this? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He couldn’t, wouldn’t make her do this just for his sake. He reached for her hands, taking them in his own. “Callie, we don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes snapped to his and Tom could clearly see the resignation and hurt in them though she was plainly trying in vain to hide it. “Oh…” She paused and swallowed thickly. “If…Alright then. I understand.”

It hit him then, what he’d said, how he’d phrased it, had been exactly the wrong thing. She thought he didn’t want her there…With him. And that was the absolute farthest thing from the truth. “No…No. No. No, Callie. That isn’t what…”

The car pulled to a stop and the dull roar from the crowd gathered around the theater echoed through the closed doors of the car. When the passenger door opened a few moments later the dull roar erupted into a wall of sound. Tom sat for a moment, indecision playing on his features, before taking a deep breath and slowly climbing from the car. He turned then, facing the opened door, waiting. But Callie hadn’t moved.

Tom smiled softly and held out his hand towards her, “Come on. It will be alright.”

Confusion played across her face. “Tom what are you…?” It was clear she had assumed he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him on the carpet. And he couldn’t have that.

“I’m waiting for my date,” he answered, pausing to wave periodically at the crowd. “Come on, love, I’ve got you.” Tentatively, she took his proffered hand, and slid slowly out of the car. Tom could feel her trembling beside him and pulled her tightly to his side. This caused an explosion of noise and Tom did his level best to ignore the unending barrage of blinding flashes. “It’s alright.” He murmured into her hair and felt her nod against him.

With his arm locked firmly around her waist, he began to lead her away from the car and towards the start of the press line. He could feel her anxiety and uncertainty and did not lessen his hold. “Tom…”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I know. It’s a lot. But I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back just enough to look directly into her anxious eyes. Ceased by an impulse he refused to check, Tom leaned in and kissed her; firmly and with feeling. He felt her gasp in surprise and took his chance to deepen the kiss before pulling back and smiling down at her. The eruption of noise behind them, the shouts of his name and the click and flash of hundreds of cameras, barely registered for him. He inclined his head towards the waiting press line. “Shall we?”

She nodded silently and let him lead the way. He saw Luke standing at the start of the line, a look of resigned annoyance in his eyes; Tom knew there would be a reckoning later but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. As they neared the first set of reporters and cameras, Callie pulled back and began to move towards Luke but Tom took her hand and held it firmly in his.

“Please,” he whispered. “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. But please, stay with me?”

Callie looked at him, hesitation painted clearly on her features, for several moments before nodding and moving back to stand by his side. The grin splitting his face was nearly as blinding as the flashes exploding around them.

“Shall we?” he asked. Callie smiled, nodding her head and, hand in hand, they walked towards the press line.

[snapshotsinsidethehotel]

Urges Of Nostalgia (Chapter 2)

Here’s the second chapter for the previous story. You can find it here if you want to check that one out first!~

I tried my best to sound professional and reasonable, hoping that this will help in avoiding his burst of anger. Unfortunately, it didn't go my way. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when Michael showed clear annoyance. He was about to reply before Jerry interrupted him with a clap. We turned to him and I thanked him in my mind for saving me in that situation.

Chapter 2:

"Michael...I can see where you are heading with this entire thing, but don't you think it's too unlikely? The school clearly said to everyone who enrolls that we will be staying here until we graduate, which is about..ten years or so? It's unbelievable to hear already, but that doesn't mean our parents forgot about us.."

"I agree with Donny. The entire thing seems way too fictional to be true. What are we talking about, a mystery novel plot? I think you need to lay off the coffee and take breaks during study, my guy. Your brain is probably mixing up reality and fiction now."

Michael crossed his arms again and sighed loudly. He stayed silent and started to collect his cool. His eyes lit up as he remembered something and started to rummage through the other stacks of paper on the floor. He gave each of us a copy of the same five newspaper pages and smirked.

"Read it. I believe you all love the phrase, seeing is believing. So why not give it to you all to make sure you all are by my side!"

I carefully watched Michael as he walked to the open windows. It was already midnight, and my dorm was still far far away. Ignoring the future of walking alone in the cold night, I looked down at the pile of papers on my hand.

'Tragic disappearance at Matanoeo Camp', 'Mysterious vanish of all students', '30,000+ Students gone missing', 'Kidnapping or Something More? : Matanoeo Camp', 'Boarding school students disappear one by one'

I stared at the array of newspapers being displayed. How...Why? These can't be official news! I gulped as I continued switching through the different papers with fear rushing through my blood, trying to deny it. I looked up at everyone else who also had the confused face. Alexander scanned the room as well and spoke up.

"I'm..No...I know that the world isn’t that fine and dandy out there, but nobody out there believes we're still alive?! Mom doesn't know i'm still alright? All alone.."

His voice broke at the end, maybe out of sadness? or fear? I hesitated to talk but Michael's eyes were focused on me, almost as if they were mocking me. This prompted the others to turn to me with their hopeful eyes searching for someone to guide them. Sheesh..As if I even understood the entire thing. I cleared out my throat and set the papers that I was holding down.

"Erm... Listen. I don't totally understand whatever is happening right now, but um..Michael. Where did you get these papers? I'm not a believer, but i'm a bit curious about this. For all I know, it could have been from someone in our school trying to be funny"

Through my shaking hands and nervous voice, I managed to string together those words. It wasn't from the heart, but rather from the incomprehensible rummage from my brain. I could see Michael slowly giving me a soft smile and he walked back to the table with the others.

"First off, thank you for giving me a chance to explain myself. These documents were handed to me by a friend. You see, that friend...is the son of the principal. He's been on our sides before you all even enrolled here, as he was the one who found out about this revelation in the first place!"

The sounds of gasping and confusion escaped from all our faces, including mine. But after a moment, I started to laugh a bit from our stupidity. All eyes were on me again, I really should've gotten used to it by now.

"Guys..Michael is the student president for goodness sake! It should be expected that he would at least be on good terms with the principal's son!"

Michael nodded and smiled, approving of my understanding. He fully calmed down and was much more happier than he was when they first arrived. Alexander grinned while leaning on his arm,

"The principal had a child? I thought he was one of those creepy old men you see in horror movies."

He remarked with a snarky tone while brushing his hair back. This increased the laughter and the general mood, helping everyone become a tiny bit closer. The only thing missing in this lively mood was a handful of drinks and then everything would be a normal house party!

"Hahaha, Hey! Why is it specifically us, by the way?"

Kurt blurted out through his laughter. This immediately caused everyone to quiet down and think...Something nobody enjoys doing when you're having fun. Michael's smile grew increasingly wider and he stood up again.

"There it is. I was wondering when one of you will mention it. All of you have a record of missing class, and I assume it's due to you all skipping it.  Don't you dare try lying to me as I've been researching all of you for a long long time now. And so! This will help me in my little plan"

Jerry looked up from the papers when he heard that this relates to plans. I quietly laugh, knowing that Jerry loved making plans from the bottom of his heart. It used to annoy me back then, but I've gotten used to it after years with him around. He continued to stay silent to the rest of Michael's rambling speeches, which I wasn't listening to either. Suddenly, Michael stopped talking and scanned the room again.

"I have decided to escape from this prison. Maybe help others out if they want to, but my main goal is to get this circle of people to leave this place. I have hope for all of you, since you all know the reality of the outside world compared to the other ignorant students. It's an ambitious idea for one man to handle alone, so I have decided to ask...No! BEG for your participation in this so called 'project'. I will assign you all roles so that this entire thing will go on successfully"

For the first time, I could feel calm around the student president. He radiated determination in his plan and his tone held no fear. It assured me that nothing will go wrong with whatever his plan would be, which would've been a one out of one hundred chance. Even so, I was reluctant to go along since the others still held skeptical looks. Kurt kept switching between the papers and Michael, his dramatically worried face quickly change into an annoyed one.

"You mean this entire thing was so you could get US to help YOU to escape? You should've just gotten your little section to help you instead of us idiots or whatever way you think of us. Don't go on about how amazing your idea is if you don't actually have one in mind!"

He stood up as well and slammed the papers down, glaring at Michael who also became irritated. It was honestly surprising how quickly those two could change personalities in a second, as if they were long lost non-identical twins.

"You're misunderstanding me, Kurt. I suggest you listen more than talk, It might be beneficial for-"

"Yeah right! Get off your high horse and show me the proof of the plan, you don't need to act all highly!"

I stood up since they were starting to get closer and I didn't want to get involved with their own problems. I made my way over to Kurt's seat and made myself comfortable, since he had walked closer to Michael.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a secret thing? Why are they yelling?"

Alexander continued his talk when I sat down besides them, curious about their conversation.

"Shouldn't you stop them? This is turning into a sleepover at this point"

I asked them, confused about the entire situation. The two smirked and nodded at their newly formed plan.

"Michael, Jerry, please take your seats first. You must be professional in meetings"

He demanded them as if he was copying Michael's leader tone. This worked surprisingly well and the two went back to their designated seats, apart from Kurt since I was currently in his spot. Once they were there and were both calm, Jerry started.

"Anyways, let's bring it back to the reason why we're here. As Michael has mentioned, he has a plan for us. But what are those plans? Apart from the escaping part, how can the others and me help the plan progress?"

I chuckled inside and started to remember those times when he had a schedule for the both of us, and forced me to follow them no matter what. If he doesn't approve of this plan, Jerry would do everything in his power to make it correct. Details was the number one important thing to him, so I was obviously internally excited about this.

Michael was panicking by the looks of it, but he smiled again and grabbed an empty bond paper from underneath again. He stood up and motioned Jerry to sit down, so that he would be the only leader in this meeting. He wrote our names and stared at it for a bit.

"I have assigned you roles. These roles will aid you all in the future, and it's based around your skills and talents rather than personality"

He continued writing our roles and showed it to us again. He had assigned himself as obvious leader and spy, Kurt as the medic of the team, me as the supplier, Jerry as the planner, and Alec as the fighter.

Everyone was confused with their roles, as it was vastly different from our skillsets. As for me, how was I able to get the supplier role? I wasn't that good at convincing people to do anything, let alone giving me their stuff. I was dumbfounded! The others were equally as confused and shocked while looking at the piece of paper.

"Okay...Okay! Let me explain myself for a second. Kurt, your dad is a doctor so you must've learnt something from him"

Kurt furrowed his brows and shook his head, trying to interject but Michael continued on.

"Donovan, although you don't talk a lot, you know how to make some good friends. Influential friends too! We'll find a way to get in contact with them, and your help would be appreciated"

I smirked sarcastically, because although my other friends were good at getting supplies, I just felt like a useless road to get to the ultimate destination.

"Alexander, I've heard about your pain tolerance, which is amazingly high. You'll be great during whatever battles!"

Alec stared at him without commenting, not minding his position in the team.

"And Jerry, best for last! You can make our plans, thank you!"

Michael cheerfully proclaimed, which made Jerry a bit annoyed. Kurt was fuming in the corner, but I tried to ignore him for now and focused on Jerry's increasing anger. I almost started laughing when Jerry erupted,

"Michael, I understand that you're just a single guy and not everything will be finished especially if it's this big of a project, but isn't the plan the exact point you invited us all here?"

He was trying his hardest to stay calm, obviously so. Michael only smiled again and nodded, walking closer to Jerry.

"Yes, Jerry. But if you truly want to leave to see your family again, please help us all. I've focused all my attention attempting to collect these documents to make a plan, but I realized that there weren't any time left to form a good plan. So if you could make a plan by tomorrow, it would be highly appreciated!"

Jerry stared confusedly at him. I felt the same, since there was no chance that a normal high-school student would be able to finish a functioning plan by tomorrow. Exams and homework were already piling on, and adding a difficult task to the mix would complicate things further for Jerry.

"Come on now man. Jerry can't handle that, he's only a single guy too! Couldn't we all just work together to make this or something? I mean, we all have the same ideas"

Kurt ran out quickly as soon as the offer was given, but his room was just two floors away anyways. We followed him outside so it doesn't become awkward again inside the room. Alexander waved goodbye as he climbed the pole up to his dorm room.

I tried my best to back up Jerry, as he had done for me before. Michael nodded and agreed, but still seemed hesitant. He got out of the seat and walked over to his bed and sat down.

"I dismiss this meeting today. We may continue tomorrow, but I am not sure. Be careful out there men, it's only going to get better now"

"Heh..This was a rough night, wasn't it?"

I turned to Jerry, who was still admiring the stars. He smiled and nodded without talking, just focusing on the stars as we continued walking. He was probably tired and was too bewildered by the odd offer earlier, so it was understandable. When we arrived at our room, Jerry plopped onto the bed and fell asleep directly which contributed to my theory of him. I walked aside for a bit, just thinking of this rare chance to go home and see my parents again but at a high risk cost.

I'm not even sure I remember my parent's real names due to how long I've been staying here, which makes everyone else my brand new family. Maybe they truly did forget about us? Or they truly did believe I died... This wasn't going to end well, but what other chance do I have? I wanted this. I stared at the roof for a moment before I stood up and walked back to the room.

The idea of being a supplier seemed like hard work, but everyone had a hard time with their own set roles so what can I do but complain? It bothered me to no end, and I ended up not sleeping for the remaining hours of night.

--

[peachymess]

Hallo hallo hallo Peachy, me and my family are going on vacation and I wondered if you had any series to recommend that we can watch ! Any type of it😄😎😎😎😎 I have seen you talking about a few shows earlier😎

Ooh! Have a great vacation! Remember the social distancing meter!

Well, firstly, I just wanna say that on vacation I recommend to be in the moment and experience the new environment - soak it all up - and make sure you don’t watch the TV too much. However, if you’ve got a lot of traveling and overlays etc - or maybe you’re going to the cabin where late nights with hot cocoa an exiting series on the screen is the plan, go for it! Next week I’ll be joining my family at our cabin and I know we will for sure watch movies in the evenings!

Now. Shows... hm. I actually don’t keep up that well, but I guess I can churn out a few suggestions. I love movies and shows, so thank you for this ask!

1. Dark (Netflix) - it’s great! Just great! It’s quiet and melancholy but also gritty and suspenseful in a slow syrupy kind of way. It demands that you pay attention and connect dots along the way, but it’s worth it! Events in a small german town from three different times are somehow mysteriously connected.

2. Twin Peaks (idk where lol) - the original first two seasons! I know there’s a reboot on HBO (maybe the original is there too) but I couldn’t even finish that one. The original Twin Peaks is one of my all time favorite shows. It’s about a mysterious murder case that needs solving in a small suburban town. But it’s no run of the mill crime show. No, it’s a surreal, forboding, charismatic and sometimes tastefully funny show about dark secrets and disturbing depths within a tight knit community. In the lead is the iconic Dale Cooper.

3. Stranger things (Netflix) - chances are high that you’ve already seen this one, but if you haven’t, you’re in for a treat. Another small town action/mystery, haha. I once called it a cross between Twin Peaks and Stephen King’s IT. A group of kids get entangled in a big suspenseful story when a portal between their world and “the upside down” is opened. One girl might have the solution.

4. Westworld (HBO) - if you haven’t seen this one, the first season of this is amazing. The second one is alright, but I feel like the first one stands on its own just perfectly. Standalone, I feel like it’s one of the most seamlessly executed series out there. It’s about a sort of real life open world game, Wild West themed (hence the name of the show). The park is full of artificial intelligence robots that look exactly like humans. Every time they die or get killed, their memory is reset. This way, the visitors can live out any kind of fantasy - good or bad - without consequences... until there are consequences.

5. The Luminaries (HBO) - you need to have a stomach for tragic fates for this one (not spoiler, it’s just generally full of harsh realities) but if you do, you’ll appreciate great storytelling! It’s about a man and a woman who meet on the boat to some place during the gold rush of 18hundredandsomething. They agree to meet up off the boat, but it is as if fate will not let them. They both get roped in by people with selfish interests and disasters develop from there. The story shows us the aftermath of a murder, where a blacked out protagonist is trying to recollect the pieces of what happened to lead up to the murder of one man.

6. The Haunting of Hill House (Netflix) - an actually good, scary TV show! It’s been a while since I’ve seen it so I can’t remember the specifics, but I know this was a great watch! The characters are great and fleshed out, the visuals are top notch, the story is engaging. Over all,... well. I wanna watch it again now. The family flips houses for a living. Hill House flips their life upside down in return. Haunted house story, basically - just good.

7. Channel Zero (HBO) - this one’s a more sceptical recommend, just because I can’t remember what else I’ve seen right now. It was a fun watch and me and my friend watch every season, but the quality isn’t anywhere near the same league as the above recommendations. Basically, each season is a different scary story focus. Sort of like American Horror story, but more uh... creepy pasta-y. My favorite season is the “No end house” one. There’s another one (I think it’s called Butcher’s block?) where one of the characters call themselves Peachy - haha - but it’s their weakes season so I wouldn’t recommend that one.

8. Avatar: the last airbender (Netflix?) - if you haven’t yet, treat yourself with this one. I watched it as an adult so I know parent-aged folks can enjoy it too. It’s got a great story with even greater characters. It’s fantasy, in a world where certain people can “bend” a certain element to their will. Water, earth, fire, air. The fire nation coaxed a war, and the world could sorely need the avatar - the one person who can master all four elements. He hasn’t been seen for years and years. But maybe he’ll suddenly show up one day? 👀

9. Black mirror (Netflix) - this one’s a bit of a mixed bag, but it’s over all such a high quality show! It’s an anthology of sci-fi stories. The genre is so broad that every story is vastly different from the next. Anything from a society built around a rating system of others’ experience of you as an individual (and what being constantly rated does to people), to virtual world hopping and more! Worth a try!

10. And then there were none (idk where but worth looking for) - an Agatha Christie story made into a short series. It’s about a group of people who’ve been invited to a dinner party at a mansion on a small island. One by one they begin to die. Who’s the killer or killers? Sounds simple enough, but remember that this is Agatha Christie. The absolute queen of crime and mystery. It’s one of the best and most entertaining crime shows I’ve seen in a while. And I watch a lot, because we have an entire season dedicated to watching crime mysteries here in Norway.

Anyways, I didn’t mention Game of thrones because you’ve probably seen it. If not, I don’t know if I can recommend it in good conscience because of the absolute story butchering last season. But if you I haven’t seen it and can handle an amazing story having an offensively bad conclusion, GoT is by far one of the most engaging stories out there.

Happy watching!

[winterisakiller]

Wanderlust

Title: Wanderlust

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Callie Williams (OFC)

Genre: romance/angst

Rating: Mature

Summary: He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart. Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see.

Authors Notes/Warnings: This is a follow-up/sequel to Old Flames. I started this shortly after I posted the original story and it took awhile to get these idiots to tell me just what was going to happen. And this is the end result. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Tag list: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope @nonsensicalobsessions @blacksuitofdoom @messy-insomniac-bookgirl

As always if you want on the tag list for any of my stories, please let me know. I won’t bite...Unless you ask very nicely ;)

She is truly stunning. The thought stole its way across Tom’s mind as he watched her sleep beside him; peaceful and content. There was something about her that had captured him right from the beginning. He’d known she’d felt it too; he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she touched him, in every glance. And even now, years later, he couldn’t deny that she still held such sway over him.

 It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how infrequently they saw one another; Callie was always in his thoughts. He thought of her whenever something made him laugh and he knew it would amuse her as well. She was the first person he wanted to call when he found a role that challenged him or when he gotten whatever part he’d been dying for. She was also the first one he wanted to talk to when something had gone terribly wrong and he needed a friendly voice. Callie was the one person whose voice he longed to hear on good days and especially on bad. But something had always stayed his hand; always made him hold back. He could barely begin to count the number of times he’d started to dial her number only to hang up at the last moment.  

 It was hopeless, really. Tom had known it from the start. They had always been in such different places in their lives, had lived to very different worlds. He lived for his work; for the ability to travel, to try on new characters and challenges and to push himself as far as he dared. Sitting in one place for too long brought on an anxiety he couldn’t quite put into words. There was so much to see, so much to do, and so very, very little time in which to do so. How could he risk turning down a role when there was no guarantee he would get the chance to try it again? How could he say no to a promotional tour or meeting when the opportunity may not ever reoccur?

 Callie, on the other hand, had loved the consistency and steadfastness of her life. She’d worked hard to get where she was; worked harder still to keep herself the best she could possibly be and, as such, enjoyed the comfort and security of knowing who and what she was and just what she’d wanted out of her life. Callie valued her own time and to simply just be. She was content to sit for hours reading in her worn leather chair by the window in her cozy living room and had done so as often as possible. She didn’t need the glitz and the glamour Tom had always seemed so at home in. His world didn’t make sense to her; it had never held any appeal for her.

 It was one of the many things he cherished about her. He was simply Tom with her. No demands, no mask, just himself. And he’d loved that. Loved her. Not just in the physical sense, though he could not deny that the physicality between them had always been electric, but all of her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she cared about those who mattered to her and those she barely knew. The quiet strength and resolve she possessed no matter the challenges she faced. She never ceased to amaze him for simply being who she was.

 And if he were to be honest with himself, he could admit she was everything he’d ever really wanted. They clicked in a way he’d had with anyone before or after. But they were too different; lived in two vastly different worlds. Their lives hadn’t and would never mesh in any way which would work. He knew it. And he knew she did too. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to. And he did. Desperately.

 That was one of the many reasons he’d found himself here, again, tangled up in his bed with her. Why he let himself open to her when he knew there was very little chance of an actual future between then. It always happened. He’d fought it at first, knowing that giving in would only make the hurt worse in the end. But it had all been in vain. He couldn’t fight the electricity nor the bond between them. And, in all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t have her, not in the way he’d longed for; he knew it all too well. So this, these stolen moments, would have to do. But they wouldn’t last. They couldn’t. Eventually, and he feared it would be sooner rather than later, they would have to part. For good. And that hurt more than he let himself think on. The idea of never again holding her in his arms, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, burnt him to the core. But he couldn’t seem to see any other way.

 Callie turned in her sleep, the sheet that had been pulled over her shoulder slipped revealing a full, round breast and the smooth curve of her shoulder. She snuggled closer against Tom’s side, the warmth of her skin against his sent shivers down his spine. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, in sleep and he was torn between wanting to simply watch her do so and the desire to wake her and have her at least once more before reality pulled them apart again.  

 It had barely been a month since he’d seen her in the club, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she moved in time with the pulsing music. Seeing here there, just a handful of feet away from him, had thrown Tom; though, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have. London was only so big and he’d always known that seeing her was inevitable. But still, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes at first. It had been so long; with his work and travel it had been months since he’d been in one place longer than a few days that wasn’t strictly for work. And even longer since he’d been home for any set length of time. Yet, there she was. He hadn’t let himself think about the consequences of his actions then; he’d simply gone to her. He’d needed her in a way he hadn’t needed anyone else.

 And it had been wonderful; the feel of her skin against his, her breathy moans in his ear, the weight of her against him, above him. He’d woken the morning after in her bed, watching her as she watched him from the doorway. He’d wanted to tell her then how beautiful she was to him; just how much he had missed her, how badly he wanted her in his life, in his bed, always. But that would shatter the fragile thing between them. It would break the unspoken rule of whatever this was they were doing. So he’d said nothing and let himself walk out of her life once again. It was funny, really, how he was the one who always seemed to walk away. He’d never let himself think on it; wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it. But it didn’t make it any less true. He hadn’t been able to stay away though, had sought her after; needing to be near her, to pretend just for a little while longer that this could work. That she’d wanted it to work just as badly as he did. Just for a little while

 Tom shifted in the bed, running a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved in several days and it clearly showed. Callie stirred beside him, rolling tighter against him, her leg slipping between his and her head resting against his bare chest. He could feel the stiff peak of her nipple against his skin and bit back a groan at the sensation.

 He wanted her; he’d always wanted her. That had never been the problem. Or, well, he mused, maybe it is. They had clicked so perfectly in the physical sense; she’d caught his eye from the moment he’d first seen her and he’d wanted her then more than he’d thought possible. But that had only been the start of it. Now…now it was so much more. And he knew deep in the marrow of himself that it wouldn’t be enough. The wanting her. The loving her. Not when she hadn’t wanted the spotlight that being with him would place on her.

 His life, the demands it placed on him, it left little if any time for something real. And dragging Callie into it only to hurt her…He wasn’t sure he could live with it. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to live with it. With knowing he would be gone more often than not; knowing that she couldn’t be his biggest priority. Knowing there would be times when he would have to choose between time with her and his career and that his career would most likely need to win. And then the lack of privacy. He knew his fan base, had seen them tear into the lives of women he dated in the past…And ones he’d barely known, just for the simple fact he was seen with them. It was something he wanted to save her from if he could. Knowing it wasn’t what she had wanted. Knowing that he couldn’t walk away from his life, not when he’d worked so hard for all he’d achieved, not when he would end up resenting her for it if he did. And she would resent him for dragging her into it all. She’d been clear that the idea of a spotlight on her life scared her; that she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle, that she wanted to handle.

 And knowing that meant there was only one option left and the thought of it crushed him. He would have to leave…for good this time. No turning back, no second thoughts. Pulling her back into his life, even this private part of it, would be the height of cruelty for them both. Not when he couldn’t give her what they both wanted; a life together; safe and private and theirs. But the very thought of walking away made his blood run cold. He was a coward of the worst sort and he knew it. Putting this off, pretending this wasn’t just a temporary respite in the chaos of his life. That this didn’t have to end. He wished he were stronger. Wished he could keep her, keep this. And knowing all the same he couldn’t.

 “Stop thinking so hard,” her sleep laced voice grumbled from against his side. “Your making my head hurt.”

 Tom laughed despite himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching down to brush her hair from her eyes. “How did you sleep?” He tried to keep his voice light and airy but he could see his efforts fell woefully short. He could see the knowledge of it in her eyes. Callie always seems to be able to see straight through him. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

 “You don’t have to do this, Tom.” Her voice was quiet and far too even. He watched as she pushed herself up and away from him, clutching the sheet to her chest. Covering herself from his gaze just as she distanced herself from him emotionally.

 He wanted to scream, to beg her not to walk away. It was stupid and selfish, he knew it. But the desire was overwhelming all the same. “No, please…” Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to grasp at hers, holding her still. “I don’t….Callie…”

 She let out a soft, resigned sigh, “We both know how this ends, Tom. You trying to sugar coat the fact you’re leaving and not coming back doesn’t make it any better. For once just fucking be honest with me. With yourself.”

 The words, though calmly spoken, cut him deeply. He was a coward, he’d known that. But to have that thrown, however matter of fact, in his face stung. “Callie...This is...What are we doing?”

 Her dark eyes locked on his, “I used to hope....” She trailed off, pulling her hand out of his grasp and climbed fully off of the bed. “I know what I want Tom. And I think you do as well. But I don’t think you know what you want and until you do...I don’t think I can do this,” she gesticulated wildly between them, “anymore.”

 She was dressed and out the door before he could force himself to utter another word.

 Tom sat dumbfounded on the bed, trying desperately to figure out just what had happened. He let out a string of curses, hitting his balled fist on the mattress. He should have run after her. Why hadn’t he just run after her? He should never have let her leave in the first place. Not with things so uncertain between them. Not when her words hinted that maybe, just maybe he’d read the situation all wrong. But it was too late now. She was gone.

 He rested his head in is upturned hands and let out a sigh. God, he was a fucking idiot. How had he let things get so far out of hand? He cursed again, knowing it wouldn’t help. A small part of him, one he fought steadfast to ignore, wondered if maybe it wasn’t better this way. Simply letting her go and letting things end. Doing nothing. But the larger part of him screamed that if he let himself just do nothing then he would be nothing more than the coward she’d called him in all but name.

 “Shit. Shit. Shit,” he cursed under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Tom, you utter, utter wanker.”

 Callie had made a very good point; he’d allowed himself to be drawn into whatever it was between them without considering what he truly wanted…Or, well, without allowing himself to either accept the hard work involved in what he wanted or to acknowledge he wasn’t ready and simply walk away. Instead he kept letting the same thing happen, refusing to see the toll it was taking on them both. But knowing that internally and then having it spoken aloud were two vastly different things and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Wasn’t sure just what to do.

 He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms he’d left hanging on the back of his chair near the window the night before. He checked the impulse to call her and beg her to come back. That would surely cause more problems that it would solve. He needed to get himself straight before he risked making things worse between him and Callie. Though I’m not sure how much worse it could be, he thought with wryly. And he hadn’t wanted to find out.

 As it stood, Callie probably had little desire to see him again let alone speak with him. And he couldn’t really blame her. What he had done was the height of selfishness, even if it hadn’t ever been his intention to be so. If he approached her without really knowing if it was because he wanted to rather than because he felt he should…Tom was well aware he could so easily lose her for good. That was something he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

 Coffee, he decided with a cool certainty, I need coffee. Coffee and a fucking miracle. While it brewed he would have time to think, really think, and then be able to come to what he feared, and knew with a grim certainty, would be quite difficult decisions. His footsteps echoed softly on the stairs as he made his way down to the lower level and towards the kitchen.

 Sunlight poured in from the front windows, bathing the hallway and kitchen in bright, warm light. He pattered towards the cupboard above the sink, pulling a tin of ground dark roast coffee from the uppermost shelf and placing it onto the counter before the coffee press his younger sister had given him as a house warming gift years ago. Turning, he grabbed a mug from a nearby cabinet, a light blue one he’d had for ages with a chip on one side of its rim, and set it beside the tin of coffee. He made quick work of setting water to boil in a kettle by the stove and placing several scoops of coffee into the bottom of the press, allowing his mind to wander as he did so.

 One thing he knew with certainty was Callie had become infinitely important to him. These moments he had with her were little life lines in the chaos his life inherently was. And he’d used it, selfishly, knowing but not really allowing himself to think on the fact there were more than just his feelings involved. It was equally clear to him that Callie cared about him, that she had for a long while now. He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart.

 Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see. That thought pulled him up short. Judging from her reaction, he feared that might very well have been the case. Had he really been so blind? So wrapped up in what he wanted, that he missed the change in her? A bitter laugh fell from his lips. No wonder she’d been so cold, so defeated.

 Tom rubbed his face with his hands once again. God, this was a mess. He’d been so certain before she’d woken, so damn certain that walking away was the only real path left for them. That his flitting in and out of her life, sharing her bed for these brief sojourns, was only causing them both unnecessary and avoidable pain. But now…Now when it was abundantly clear that she herself intended to sever their tenuis connection if he couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted between them, the idea filled him with dread. The reality of never seeing her again, never holding her, never being able being able to just simply be with her again, shook him to his core.

 The faint whistle of the kettle pulled Tom reluctantly back into reality. Tea towel in hand, he removed the kettle and poured the steaming water into the opened press. Tom stood, watching as the coffee steeped, his mind replaying the look on her face just before she’d grabbed her clothing and gone. It was a knife to the heart; her resigned heartache. The pained and weary acceptance that sat in her eyes, had been painted across her face. And he hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t done all in his power to get her to stay and talk. He really was a coward after all.

 Once satisfied with the strength, Tom worked the plunger with the smooth fluidity of years of practice and soon the strong scent of hot, fresh coffee filled the small, brightly lit kitchen. He poured himself a cup and, once it was doctored to his liking, headed into the living room. He let himself settle on the couch, propping his feet on the edge of the wooden coffee table.

 The house was unnaturally quiet. It was something he used to revel in. Things in his life were so rarely quiet these days and he’d learned to take his solace in whatever silence could be found. But now…Now it felt oppressive. He shook his head and took a sip of his steaming coffee. He hissed as it burned his tongue. It was still too hot for consumption but he desperately needed the caffeine. Tom forced another sip before placing the mug onto the side table. He scrubbed his face with his opened hand before leaning his head back. This was a mess, pure and simple.

 No matter what he chose, it would be an uphill battle. Between wanting to protect her privacy and his own, being with her would provide complication…And truly walking away and never coming back, that was unbearable. No matter what he chose, it would hurt them both. But staying and trying to fight to make something work between them…He knew with startling clarity that he’d wanted it more than he could find words for. It wouldn’t be easy but then again nothing in life worth having ever really was. And, truthfully, he’d never been one for the easier path. If he was mistaken though…If they tried this and she couldn’t handle it…Didn’t want to handle it…

 He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. If they tried and she couldn’t or didn’t want to handle what his life would entail…Then he would do his best to carry on. Things in life were never guaranteed, Tom knew that better than most. He’d had plenty of relationships fall apart, lost people he’d believed would always be there. It had hurt but he’d survived it. And logically, he knew if things between him and Callie fell apart he would desperately hurt but his world would not end. But understanding did little to stifle the feeling of panic. God, he was overthinking this.

 Tom reached for his coffee mug and took another sip, cringing as the cold coffee poured into his mouth. How long had he been sitting there? Annoyed, he pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the kitchen and placed the mug in the microwave. Forty seconds would do the trick. As he watched the mug spin lazily around, Tom once again allowed his mind to wander.

 What he wanted was simple. He wanted her. Wanted her in his life, not just his bed. Wanted to know she would be waiting for him when he came back from his travels. Wanted her to come with him whenever she could. But what she wanted, he wasn’t completely certain. He thought he’d known before and he’d apparently been completely mistaken. And if it was mistaken again…

 They would need to talk, really talk. And then he would have to take whatever came of such a conversation, be it good or ill, and make the best of it. But would she be willing to talk with him? If she wouldn’t…He took another deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. There was only one way to find out.

 Tom took the stairs two at a time, quickly making his way into the bedroom. His mobile was sitting on the bedside table, connected to its charging cord. He unplugged and unlocked it in short order, scrolling through his contact list until he found her name. No time like the present…

 He hit ‘dial’ and held his breath as the phone rang.

 And rang.

 Tom fought to ignore the knot in his stomach. She might not be home yet (though if his watch was to be believed it was nearing eleven. When she’d left it had been going on eight and she hadn’t lived too far). Or she’s choosing to ignore you, his mind helpfully chimed in.

 He very nearly dropped the phone when the line finally clicked and Callie’s voice echoed in his ear. “What, Tom?”

 He swallowed thickly before forcing himself to speak. And once he did the words came tumbling out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to and I understand that. But we do need to talk, Callie. I need to tell you things and I think there are things you need to tell me.”

 The line was quiet and for a moment Tom feared she’d simply hung up on him. “I don’t…” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “Somewhere neutral. If we do this, we need to go somewhere neutral for both of us.”

 “Yes,” he answered, understanding the logic of her request. Both his place and hers held far too many memories which would make this so much harder than it needed to be. “Um…There is a coffee shop a few streets over. They are pretty quiet and out of the way….We shouldn’t be bothered there.” Tom cursed the circumstances of his life for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. If he were just any other bloke they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard and having their conversation splashed across the front page of a tabloid as ‘entertainment’. They could meet and be free to honestly talk this out….And if he’d been just any other bloke then most likely none of this would be happening.

 Tom ran a hand through his hair as he awaited her response; feeling the knots in his stomach tighten with alarming force.

 “Okay,” she finally whispered. “Give me the address.”

  Twenty minutes later found Tom sitting in one of the high backed booths in the back corner of the shop. His double espresso steamed gently before him, mostly untouched, and he found himself fighting the urge to jump and stare every time the front door bell chimed the entrance of another customer. Part of him feared she wouldn’t show. That she had decided to wash her hands of him once and for all. The idea stung but he knew she had every right to do just such a thing. To simply walk away…  

 His attention snapped back to the present as the door chimed again. Callie had changed and showered since he’d seen her last, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she now wore an oversized green jumper and dark leggings. She looked comfortable but wary. Her smile was small and did not quite reach her eyes. “Hiya,” she greeted him before sliding into the other side of the booth.

 “Would you care for…?” Tom gestured vaguely at his own cup.

 Callie shook her head. “I’m good, thank you.” She folded her hands and placed them before her on the table. “You wanted to talk.” It was a statement, not question, and Tom found himself taken off guard by it.

 He nodded, masking his unease with a sip of his espresso. “You were right.” Her eyes snapped up to his face, their brown depths echoing confusion and concern in equal measure. “This…What we are doing…It’s not working.”

 Callie forced a nod. “It’s not.”

 Tom started to reach for her hand, caught himself, and placed his own hands on the table. “You told me that you don’t believe that I know what I want and that it’s not fair to either of us…And in a way you were right.” He paused and took another sip. “I want you…And not just for a night or two…I want this…Us, to be something, but I thought…With what being with me entails…I believed you didn’t want any part of that…So I was selfish and I took what I could get…And I am sorry.”

 She leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth. “And?” He could read the caution and doubt painted across her features as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud.

 Her doubt and uncertainty shouldn’t have surprised him. After all he’d not been the most forthright person in this endeavor. And she’d been left waiting and wanting far too many times to take his words at face value. But it stung all the same. “I made the mistake of assuming I knew what you wanted…That you wouldn’t want more because of who I am and what that would mean. And that was wrong of me. I should have asked you outright instead of believing that you hadn’t changed your mind. And that is on me.” He took a deep breath. “But all the same I wish you had said something. Told me explicitly what you wanted. I can’t read your mind, Callie. I can’t know what you’re thinking. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain, but I didn’t know…Not really.”

 Callie bristled slightly but nodded. “I should have and I own that. But to be completely honest I wasn’t sure how…Or if it was something you would have been willing to hear.”

 It was Tom’s turn to bristle though he could not blame her for thinking as she had. He’d flitted in and out of her life without so much as a promise. How could she think anything but that? “Fair enough,” he murmured. He covered his unease once again with sip of his espresso. “We haven’t been clear with each other and that’s led us here.” He paused again, raising his head to hers. “But we can do better than this. I want us to be better. This…You and me, I want us to be more than just a few stolen nights. I want you in my life in a permanent way. I want us to be truly together.”

 “So do I.”

 The smile that spread across Tom’s face was exquisite. This was going far better than he’d dared hope it would. She wanted this, wanted him too. “Then let’s do this. Really do this, you and I.” He reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them gently. His smile fell as he caught the look of hopeful doubt in her eyes.

 “They are wonderful words, Tom. And I want to believe them.” Callie offered a small, sad smile, pulling her hands back from his. “But how do I know that once we leave here and you go back to your life that you won’t just disappear again?”

 “Because I won’t. I can’t.” Tom leaned across the table and took her hand again, imploring her to believe him. “Not again. I cannot let you walk out of my life simply because I chose the coward’s way out. I want this,” he squeezed her hand, “with you. I want to…take you to the cinema. To the theatre. I want to walk hand in hand with you in the park. And all those silly, small things people take for granted. I want that…All of it, with you.”

 “I want that too, Tom. Believe me I do…I just…I need more than words. Can you understand that? This…If I do this…If we do this, I need to know for sure that you are in this. Really in this. I can’t…I can’t open myself up like this without knowing there is something solid…Something real there. I need more than words.”

 Tom nodded, squeezing her hand. He hated her doubt, her lack of faith in his word. But he could understand it. “You need to be certain that I am substance, not air.” Callie nodded. He smiled softly, “I can understand that….I…” He paused, looking down briefly in thought before raising his eyes back to Callie’s dark brown ones. “There is a premiere I’ve been invited to…In Leicester Square next week…Would you come with me? As my date?”

 Callie shot him an incredulous look. “Tom…I…I’ve never...” Her hands gesticulated wildly, both disbelief and uncertainty coloring her tone. “I don’t have a dress…”

 Tom shook his head, raising his hand to place a finger over her lips to cease her rambling. “Please. I want you to come with me….I’ll handle everything; dress, make-up, hair, transport…Just say yes. Please.”

 He watched the indecision play across her face and hoped with all he had she would say yes. She would give him this chance to prove that he meant it. That he wanted this. Wanted her in his life and that he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was aware too, that he was putting her very clearly on the spot, potentially throwing her metaphorically to the wolves. And that was the last thing he wanted. He had just opened his mouth to take it back, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, if she didn’t truly want to when she spoke.

 “I…” Callie started, her attention turned briefly down to her hands on the table. “Alright.” The word came out softly and for a moment Tom was certain he’d not heard her correctly. And then she spoke again. “I’ll go.”

 Tom smiled brightly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. He could see it in her face, in her eyes that she still was uncertain. Still held doubt. But she’d agreed and that was something. He could work on the rest. He could show her he meant it. And he would.

  Luke hadn’t been best pleased at the work Tom had thrown his way and had told him so, often and loudly. “It’s not that I’m against you bringing someone; you have every right to do so, you great bloody git as I’ve told you for years now. It’s the fact you tell me less than six days before the damned premiere, expecting me to handle the details; a dress, make-up, hair…Dear god, man. I can do many things, Tom, but this is cutting it a bit fine don’t you think?”

 Tom had apologized profusely but insisted nonetheless. Callie deserved it. If he was doing it, he was going to do it right. And Luke had come through, confirming the details with Callie and with Tom. It would be cutting it fine, but it had been doable, he’d assured them both. She would have a styling team and a decent selection of dresses sent to hers the day of the premiere and she and Tom would travel to the theater from hers (it would be a simple enough matter to have the car Luke had hired for Tom pick him up as originally planned and then swing by for her). The process had probably hastened the arrival of Luke’s grey hair and Tom knew he’d owe the man a very nice bonus for his troubles. And probably a very long, restful holiday.

 He’d gotten the text from Luke stating that the team he’d arranged would be arriving at Callie’s in the late morning of the day of the premiere. And the morning of, had texted him to let him know they’d arrived. Tom let out a small sigh of relief, at least things were going to plan so far. His own final fitting wasn’t scheduled until later than afternoon and he found himself with the better part of the morning to kill. A run seemed immensely appealing just then. A chance to clear his head and focus his mind on something other than impending nerves. So he had made quick work changing into his usual running attire and headed out the door.

 He was panting and drenched in sweat by the time he returned, but much calmer in mind and spirit. A quick glance at his watch told him he had enough time to shower before his own team would arrive. He wasted little time climbing the stairs and stripping off his running gear; leaving them in a pile by the bedroom door.

 The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles and, had it been any other day, Tom would have easily stayed in the shower until he’d resembled a prune. The temptation was a strong one. But he hadn’t the luxury, not today; the coming evening was far too important for him to risk jeopardizing it. And certainly not for something so trivial. He made quick work of washing his hair and body, wrapping himself in the large, navy blue towel hanging behind the bathroom door. He padded back into his bedroom and grabbed the clean t-shirt and jogging bottoms he’d laid out.

 He’d just finished rubbing his hair as dry as he could when the bell by the front gate rang. Upon confirming it was indeed his team, Tom buzzed them in and gave way to the chaos. Once he was suited and his hair had been coifed he’d found himself pacing around the living room, his earlier nerves bubbling back towards the surface. The car Luke had arranged was set to arrive at just after four, giving them plenty of time to make it to Callie’s flat and then to the theater. But four came and went.

 Tom had tried very hard not to panic and had given it a good ten minutes before texting both Luke and the driving company for updates. Traffic, he’d been informed. There had been an accident shutting down several main roads and the car had been forced to detour. They should be no more than half an hour late. Tom had been as gracious as he could be with the news, though on the inside he was a seething mess of frustrated anxiety. Every call he’d made to Callie’s phone had gone to voicemail and she wasn’t answering any of the texts he’d sent either. He could only imagine what would be running through her head when the car hadn’t shown when expected.

 At quarter past four the car pulled to a stop before Tom’s and he’d rushed out nearly as soon as he’d heard the bell. It was another fifteen minutes before the car pulled in front of Callie’s building. Tom had jumped from the car and taken the stairs to her flat two at a time, arriving at her door slightly out of breath. She opened it on his second knock and the apology that had been on the tip of his tongue vanished.

  Simply put she was stunning. Her long, dark hair had been curled and hung loosely over one shoulder. Her dark eyes had been lined in kohl, her lips painted a stunning dark shade of red, only a few tones lighter than the dark burgundy of her dress. The dress left one shoulder bare and clung to her curves in the most sinful way, falling just past her knee. The heels she wore brought her to nearly his own height and the thought of what they could do in them flashed boldly through his mind.

 “You look absolutely…Enchanting.” Tom breathed once words and sense had returned to him. He held his hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t note it’s slightly tremble. If he had thought Callie breathtaking before it was nothing…Nothing compared to the way she overwhelmed him now.

 She took his hand, murmuring a brief and quiet ‘thank you’ but said nothing else as they made their way down the stairs and into the car. The ride to the theater was, thankfully, uneventful. Whatever nightmare the traffic had been earlier had cleared enough in spite of their later start they would still most likely make it to the theater on time. The idea should have filled Tom with relief but the silence radiating from Callie tempered it significantly.

 “Callie, are you alright?” It was a stupid question and he’d known it the second it had left his lips. The set of her shoulders and the way she carefully did not look in his direction as they road spoke volumes.

 “I’m fine,” she answered, briefly turning her head in his direction.

 Tom let his gaze fall over her, uncertainty gnawing at him. He’d pushed for her to come, to do this with him. What if…What if this wasn’t what she’d wanted? Had he forced her, however unintentionally, into going along with this? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He couldn’t, wouldn’t make her do this just for his sake. He reached for her hands, taking them in his own. “Callie, we don’t have to do this.”

 Her eyes snapped to his and Tom could clearly see the resignation and hurt in them though she was plainly trying in vain to hide it. “Oh…” She paused and swallowed thickly. “If…Alright then. I understand.”

 It hit him then, what he’d said, how he’d phrased it, had been exactly the wrong thing. She thought he didn’t want her there…With him. And that was the absolute farthest thing from the truth. “No…No. No. No, Callie. That isn’t what…”

 The car pulled to a stop and the dull roar from the crowd gathered around the theater echoed through the closed doors of the car. When the passenger door opened a few moments later the dull roar erupted into a wall of sound. Tom sat for a moment, indecision playing on his features, before taking a deep breath and slowly climbing from the car. He turned then, facing the opened door, waiting. But Callie hadn’t moved.

 Tom smiled softly and held out his hand towards her, “Come on. It will be alright.”

 Confusion played across her face. “Tom what are you…?” It was clear she had assumed he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him on the carpet. And he couldn’t have that.

 “I’m waiting for my date,” he answered, pausing to wave periodically at the crowd. “Come on, love, I’ve got you.” Tentatively, she took his proffered hand, and slid slowly out of the car. Tom could feel her trembling beside him and pulled her tightly to his side. This caused an explosion of noise and Tom did his level best to ignore the unending barrage of blinding flashes. “It’s alright.” He murmured into her hair and felt her nod against him.

 With his arm locked firmly around her waist, he began to lead her away from the car and towards the start of the press line. He could feel her anxiety and uncertainty and did not lessen his hold. “Tom…”

 “I know,” he reassured her. “I know. It’s a lot. But I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back just enough to look directly into her anxious eyes. Ceased by an impulse he refused to check, Tom leaned in and kissed her; firmly and with feeling. He felt her gasp in surprise and took his chance to deepen the kiss before pulling back and smiling down at her. The eruption of noise behind them, the shouts of his name and the click and flash of hundreds of cameras, barely registered for him. He inclined his head towards the waiting press line. “Shall we?”

 She nodded silently and let him lead the way. He saw Luke standing at the start of the line, a look of resigned annoyance in his eyes; Tom knew there would be a reckoning later but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. As they neared the first set of reporters and cameras, Callie pulled back and began to move towards Luke but Tom took her hand and held it firmly in his.

 “Please,” he whispered. “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. But please, stay with me?”

 Callie looked at him, hesitation painted clearly on her features, for several moments before nodding and moving back to stand by his side. The grin splitting his face was nearly as blinding as the flashes exploding around them.

 “Shall we?” he asked. Callie smiled, nodding her head and, hand in hand, they walked towards the press line.