#this was probably angies fault

[astro-b-o-y-d]

If you want to know how today's writing is going, I'm currently writing a scene where Bill is attempting to bash Dipper's head in with a rock.

So you know. It's going well.

[konan-supernova]

missed my exit on the freeway bc nobody let me merge :(

[apollo-zero-one]

Listening to stories of people who survived situations like being trapped in collapsed buildings and it kinda sounds like the human response to being trapped in a bad situation is to just keep going back to sleep until death comes. Thinking about depressive avoidant sleeping. Brain doesn't know you aren't trapped under rubble it can't see out of his bone prison brain just knows everything is bad and everything hurts and we can't handle this stress we need to divert all power to life support, night night.

[sizablelad]

i need my bestie to not take everything i do that doesn’t align with her vision of the world as a personal attack. like. we hang out every. fucking. day. if i have to bail on ONE day, that is not the end of the world i prommy.

[silicon-dykecunt]

Ya boi got assualted at work today

got off fairly lucky in the end but got some glass in my face, sadly didn’t get a chance at a cool bloodied face pic :(

[yetanotherexhaustedalchemist]

Found this tiermaker assigning the twst boys with the seven deadly sins, here's my rankings

Explainations:

Ace was difficult to place, but he is prone to overestimating/boasting about his prowess with magic or intelligence (often without evidence behind him 😒) He also thought he was a match for RIDDLE one week into school, yikes.

Jack was also difficult to place, since he's generally one of the more upstanding students. But he does rely on himself more than he probably should on occasion, such as when he wanted to confront Leona alone in Book 2, without the support of others.

I mean what's not for Vil to be proud of Pride is often defined as being full of yourself to the point that you won't acknowledge your faults; this doesn't apply to Vil. Still, it could be argued that his pride led him to be unable to acknowledge Neige winning against him.

Sebek thinks very highly of being fae. IDK what else

It's Azul. He's a capitalist. What do you want from me?

Floyd wasn't assigned lust from a sexual viewpoint (necessarily), but he does live hedonistically. He only really does things if he thinks they'll bring him enjoyment or pleasure of some form.

Same for Rook. I guess you could say he lusts for beauty?

And same for Malleus. His need to keep the things he cherishes close prompts his overblot, and that's a kind of possessiveness I associate with lust.

Cater is shown in his Halloween SSR to envy Lilia's understanding family relationships. Social media also tends to make people compare their lives to others and lead to envy.

Jamil envies people - a lot of people - to the point that it affects his relationships and distorts how he views people. For example, his envy of Kalim's (perceived) easy life stops him from seeing Kalim objectively.

Epel is a minor example, but he's prone to being jealous of other's strength (physical like Jack and Leona, or magical like Vil).

It makes sense that someone who grew up in the slums, needing to fight and steal to get food to eat, would be kind of obsessed with having food and money. Ruggie is under gluttony rather than greed because he actually uses the money and eats the food (or gives it to the people back home) instead of hoarding it.

Besides having a large appetite, I'd say that Jade is a bit of a 'glutton' for amusement in a similar way to Floyd. I put him under gluttony instead of lust because it just felt right.

He angy

Deuce is under wrath because of delinquent mode, that's it

Ortho chooses violence with alarming frequency. not much to say.

Trey himself admits that he let Riddle's mental state get worse by not dealing with the hard truth and letting it fester. He says he knows he should have done something to stop Riddle, but he didn't, and it hurt Riddle and others.

Leona is lazy (sleeping all the time), but his cynicism also makes him extremely unmotivated and uninterested in putting effort into anything.

Like Leona, Idia is extremely uninterested in doing things outside his interests, even when they demand his attention (housewarden and STYX duties). Also, like Leona, he almost certainly has depression, which would help explain this.

Lilia also didn't fit into any of the catagories well, but I put him under sloth for the sole reason that his suddenly leaving NRC for the East could be seen as him trying to to avoid the hard goodbyes of a farewell, in a (failed) attempt to spare his boys' from pain.

Kalim's just a sweetheart!! none of the categories fit him well

Same with Silver

--

A few specifications: here are the definitions I used for the sins

Wrath: Anger taken to unhealthy extremes; misdirected anger; causing harm by hurting innocents

Sloth: Causing harm by inaction; leaving others to suffer when you could/should do something to help

Greed: When the desire to have resources (money, land, ect) deprives others of what they need

Envy: Seeing others' fortune as wrong; dumbing people down into targets of jealousy

Pride: Believing you are superior to others

Gluttony: Hunger (for food, luxury, ect) taken to unhealthy extremes; anything in excess is poison

Lust: Reducing others as objects/pawns for your desire (sexual, power, wealth, ect); desiring something so strongly that becomes a sole motivator

--

Putting someone in a category doesn't mean that they fit all the criteria/interpretations

I also included despair/melancholy under sloth (choosing to wallow in your own pain and ignoring what could be done to help, yourself or others)

The difference between greed and gluttony is hard to define, but it's best described by greed being the desire to have material things for the sake of having them, while gluttony is the desire to have material things for the pleasure of consuming/using them.

[rzyraffek]

Slashers with y/n that just gets along with everything

Like slasher could litteraly kill somone near y/n and she would be like alr alr whats really important is that you are happy🤠😎. Im sorry that first 2character had super long headcanons while last ones have way less :( I had no ideas Request open!

Billy Lenz

He always expects some sort of negative response when he calls people and when he heard new voice on the Phone he got even more exited cuz new person new reaction! He totally didnt expect her to just go "yeah yeah sure buddy, anyways... how is your day man? Cuz im so so tired...*starts normal converstation*

He probably tries to stay in character but he is so caught of Guard he doesnt know how to react really (hehe the table has turn)

Now he kinda hopes that she will pick up cuz shes very intresting😈 billy likey

"Ew its this creep again! He is asking for you y/n? Of please dont tell me you befriended him??" "So what? He said hes favourite fruit is strawberry he cant be that bad!" *billy saying slurs on the phone*

You need to constantly tell him that, no Billy no harrasing women isnt sexy, you arent quirky, you are mentally ill

"Y/n i killed that bitch that was gossiping about you 🧍 " "👍good for you billy im glad you found healthy way to cope with that negative emotion😇" "on god"

His whole moral compass is created around the simple question 'does it hurt y/n?' .1:no it doesnt so feel free to do it .2 do not do it, she will ban Billy from sweets (bad ending)

The man from hush

This guy. This dude. This Little gremlin. He is upset that he gets no reaction! Like please oh please act all angy when he 'acidently' shot tire in her car! But oh no ofc no, she had to be like "oh its okay honey i have backup in garage🥰" hes like HHUH SINCE WHEN WE HAVE GARAGE

Like tbh thats how i imagine how they met: he saw her, he wanted to hunt her, she was so chill that she didnt even leave her household while the power was off and he went inside and just saw her having lil nap on couch. 🧍🤨erm exuse me gurl im trying to roleplay epic hunter here tf

He probably kidnaped her cuz she was too weird to just kill her but he didnt want to risk her calling police. He probably tied her up and yeeted her on backseats. And then she begun judging music on the radio"yo big guy can i get some good music taste?" "What? Whats wrong with Taylor Swift?"

He will overshare everything to kinda check where is her limit if it comes to being chill "yeah so i killed this old lady.." "im sure you had good reason🥰" "🤨... anyways... yeah so i was drinking some redbull when some guy said i look ugly so i shoot his head off and-" "HEY HEY hold up geez you CANT drink Energy drinks?? Bestie you know it is unhealthy?? Also you like hunt for sport it will ruin your condition!? How you gonna shoot people with shakey hands?? You crazy or something?" "Damn😔"

Micheal myers

I tried to put him here but i realised he will be as chill as her.

Like he can give her gifts covered in blood and she' just going to clean it and wear it like nothing happened or completley ignore it

He cares about this stuff as much as y/n so like not at all. I mean tbh theres is a bit of difrence: shes at least positive about it! Like "yeah micheal go for it, love🥰😇 i know its hard to cope with trauma take it all out alr?" Shes trying to be a good supporting gf not her fault she never had serial killer bf!

Brahms Heelshire

He lives for attention! What do you mean the war crime he commited this lunch break is okay!?!? Baby pleasee

But this negativity disapears the moment he realised he can get a lot of positive attention when he will do some nice stuff! "Oh honey I didnt kill any rats today" "oh that's amazing brahms I'm sure you and the rats inside walls will get along well soon🥰" (rats in walls bully brahms)

Please complement him or he will get a tantrum and destroy something

Brahms and rats have very hard past i might do seperate hc about that

Ghostface

"Look babe! My newest victim *shows photo*" "ugh baby...😰 you NEED to buy new camera or watch some youtube tutorials about how to take good photos" "aw man whats wrong with my pictures 😔"

Otherwise y/n supports his hobbies! People need to grow😇 (and he needs to grow up)

If theres 2ghostfaces(like in most movies) they will bet money on how long you gonna keep this 'do whatever as long as youre happy' act. Well they didnt know that this wasnt an act but her personality

Also they will probably try to use this chillnes aginst her like "oooh y/n something terrible happened! I crushed my car oh what will i do!" "Alr bestie i will drive you over there😇" "😈omg you are so nice i totally didnt expect that(heheh i dont need to pay for gas today (hes very evil))

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Here, have this

------------------------------------------------------

"God, you're so annoying, y/n! You don't have any idea what you're fucking talking about!" Schlatt yelled, walking away from you and into the kitchen.

"Excuse me, Mr. I'm-too-busy-to-spend-even-a-second-with-my-girlfriend! It's not my fault you've taken on so much and stretched yourself so thin! You did this to yourself!"

It was the 5th night in a row where Schlatt had to call and tell you he 'had to work late' and 'sorry hon, rain check for dinner tonight'.

"Jesus Christ I am so tired of you nagging me all the time! You're always around, just leave me the fuck alone for once!"

"If that's how you feel then maybe we shouldn't even be together!"

"There's a bright idea. Nice to know you can have those every once in a while."

"Fuck you, Schlatt! We're done." You yelled, before grabbing your purse and walking out of his house.

Walking into your apartment, you let your purse drop to the floor and flopped onto your couch, leaning your head back, and letting out a loud sigh, releasing all the pent up anger you'd harbored on your angry drive home.

It unfortunately wasn't uncommon for you and Schlatt to get into arguments. They'd usually result in one of you storming out of the house, and either returning later that night to exchange apologies and end with rough, angy make up sex or returning the next day and deciding it'd be best for both of you if you took a break for a while.

This was the fourth time it'd happened, and you were tired of it. You loved Schlatt, you really did. But God was it exhausting to break up and get back together all the time. You knew that this wasn't what it was supposed to be like.

Deciding to call Schlatt in the morning you turned on your TV for the sole purpose of serving as background noise for you to numbly fall asleep to, preparing yourself for what would come in the morning.

-------

When you woke up, you briefly looked around your apartment before remembering the previous night's fight. You'd grown used to waking up in Schlatt's warm arms, his face buried in your neck from behind, so it was almost a strange feeling to be cold and alone.

Looking at the clock it read 10:30. Schlatt would probably be awake, most likely editing again. You pressed the call button on his contact half expecting him not to answer.

"Hey."

"I think we need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. I can be there in 20."

"See you then."

You left only a few minutes later after running your fingers through your hair and brushing your teeth, making yourself look somewhat presentable, and almost subconsciously walked to the coffee shop down the street, a place that had quickly become of favorite of yours and Schlatt's.

Looking around and not seeing him yet you at a table by the door, watching it and gently scratching your arms as a distraction from the way you were feeling.

Schlatt walked in and after briefly meeting your eyes sat silently across from you. It was obvious how little either of you wanted to be there right now, and it looked like neither of you wanted to speak first.

"Schlatt, we can't keep doing this."

Taking a deep breath, Schlatt muttered a defeated "I know."

"I think we need to break up. For good this time."

He sat silent for a long pause, staring at the fingers he was tapping on table.

"Whatever." he finally said, quickly standing up and leaving the coffee shop without another word or glance your way.

You sat for a bit, letting what had happened sink in. That was it. Wiping away the trapped tears that were making your eyes burn and throat hurt you left as well, walking the opposite way that Schlatt had, to your apartment, heartbroken and alone.

----------

It'd been a week. There were no texts, no calls, nothing exchanged between either of you. Schlatt hadn't posted anything, which surprised you. He had been trying to be more consistent with it. You posted a memory on Instagram and he wasn't among the notifications of likes like he normally would be.

This was foreign. You and Schlatt had started as friends before you'd gotten together the first time. You'd never gone longer than a couple days without any sort of contact, and that was only because he'd had to go back home and had forgotten his phone charger.

Your kitchen counters were littered with pizza boxes, food wrappers, bottles, you hadn't been bothered to cook anything or clean anything up. You could stand for a shower, shown evident by the greasy knot on top of your head and the thin layer of grime that had settled on your skin. Snotty and tear soaked tissues blanketed your living room floor. You were sinking and there was no one that could pull you up.

"I'm so pathetic" you whispered to yourself, looking at your smelly clothes and dirty surroundings. "I can't just sit here anymore." you resolved, standing up before moving to the bathroom to shower and start putting your life back in order.

------------

A few hours later you were tying the last garbage bag, your apartment, and you, looking leagues better than they had earlier..

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from cleaning. You hadn't ordered anything and your neighbors weren't usually the kind to stop by for anything.

Opening the door you were surprised by what you saw.

"Schlatt?"

There he stood, nearly filling your door frame with his large frame. He was unshaven, and his outfit looked about how yours had this morning, wrinkly and disheveled. But what surprised you was that he was crying. In all the time you'd known him, as a friend or a boyfriend, you'd never seen Schlatt cry.

But here he was, on your door step, big brown eyes watery with unshed tears, his nose running and red.

"Y/n" he choked out, voice rough from a combination of unuse and sobs.

Before you could say or do anything, Schlatt reached out and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug and hiding his face in your neck.

"I'm so so sorry for how I was treating you recently. You were right, I'd been spending too much time away from you. But I'm gonna get better." He blubbered.

"Schlatt--" you started, before he cut you off.

"I am. I'm going to be so much better for you. I know I don't deserve you, Y/n, I know you deserve someone who's so much better than me, but I'm gonna be better for you. I love you so much, angel. I know, we've had our issues, and i've said things in the past, but none of it is true. You're it. You're it for me. I need you in my life, Y/n. This last week has been hell without you. God I can't even begin to explain how I felt in the coffee shop when you said we were done for good. My whole world came tumbling down. It hurt so, so much. And I know it hurt you too and i'm sorry that I pushed you to do that. Please, give me one more chance. Please."

He looked into your eyes after that speech, trying to find your response before you said it.

Letting out a small sigh you pulled him down into another hug, clearing your throat from the new wash of tears that came over you.

"I love you, Schlatt."

You could feel Schlatt let out a breath you knew he'd been holding before he held you even tighter than before, if it was possible.

"I love you. So much."

[moongothic]

If being weak is a "sin" in Crocodile's mind, then isn't a painful defeat and maybe even death rightful punishment for it? A punishment you deserve for your crime of "being weak"? That's an intriguing mindset from him because it makes me wonder how Crocodile might view his own past and the things he has gone through? I might not go as far as to say Crocodile "blames himself" for the things he's gone through, as he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who dwells on the past like that. But I do feel like Crocodile has accepted in his mind that things like losing his hand happened because he was weak, and it was his own fault. That he can not blame anyone else for what has happened to him. He fucked around and he found out.

It's just interesting because to some degree, One Piece thematically does agree with this sentiment, this is a world where the strong eat the weak. (One example at the top of my head; Luffy refusing Katakuri's apology when his sister intervened with their battle, saying he should've dodged the attack properly if he didn't want to get hit.) Chaka falling in this scene and being unable to stop Crocodile may lead to the deaths of so many more, including his loved ones, and if that comes to pass, it's is Chaka's own fault. For being too weak. But also Crocodile has twisted that idea; Crocodile is using his worldview here to justify himself and essentially saying he can do this (take over Alabasta and kill a million innocents doing so) and get away with it because he's powerful. When in reality "weakness is a sin" isn't about the survival of the fittest, but how this is a world where the strong are meant to protect the weak. (See: Luffy) (Also how Pell told Baby Vivi in that flashback about how he trains so he can protect the Royal Family; again, he he craves power not to oppress the weak but to protect them)

But, just to get back to Crocodile again, I feel like this worldview might also give us more insight as to how he acts in certain situations post-Alabasta. Like when we see Crocodile towards the end of Miss Goldenweek's cover story, both when he declines to escape from jail and in his Impel Down mugshot, Crocodile has a smile on his face. That really is the face of a man who has accepted his fate, is it not?

"Welp, this is what I get for losing to a child in flipflops"

Or when we see him come collect his debt from Buggy; Crocodile seemed quite relaxed and fully admitted he had assumed Buggy would've ran away before he even got there to collect his money. Of course, considdering his trust issues Crocodile would've been mentally prepared for Buggy skedaddling anyways, but the fact that he loaned the clown money to begin with while assuming he'd probably never get that money back-- like Crocodile knew that was going to happen and he just accepted it. And just rolled with it.

Of course, when things take an Unpleasant, Unexpected Turn, he will blow a fuse. Multiple, even.

Him angy

IDK man this is all just interesting to me

[bookshelfdreams]

Very true, Niko! And you would know all about that, wouldn't you.

Niko's wardrobe (just like her entire character) is very - strange. Usually, you want your characters to be recognizable, especially early in a story. Characters will have their colour palettes and silhouettes, their statement pieces, their individual style that fist their role in the narrative and who they are as a person. For the most part, the costume design in dbd adheres to this standard; almost every character has a very cohesive wardrobe.

Except for Niko. There's nothing that unifies her costumes, that allows us to get a sense of her style. Even her hair is constantly changing, despite the hair&make-up department clearly struggling to do anything with that horrible wig.

The most recognizable thing about Niko is her monochromatic outfits, but even those are so inconsistent, the colours vary so widely, that they don't tell us anything about her as a person - but they do reflect the stories she finds herself in and that unfold around her.

So let's look at the associations of the colours, because I don't actually know anything about fashion, but I do love colour theory.

03

Green is for emotional stability, thinks Niko, but that's not quite true. Green is more commonly associated with growth, life, new beginnings, rebirth, hope.

This episode, Niko comes out of her shell for the first time. She makes friends. She leaves her room to go on an adventure, even though she gets scared by her own courage, at first, and retreats (she will not make that mistake again).

A home is not always a safe space, is it? Sometimes it is a trap that you're caught in. Niko leaves hers at the end, running out into the streets to save her friends: growth. New beginnings. And her friends, meanwhile, freed those poor Devlin girls and their mother from their horrible prison. An end, but also, rebirth in death: they finally get to move on to the next step, leave the stasis they have been for almost three decades. And the older girl's name is Hope, which is probably a coincidence, but nonetheless extremely satisfying to my conspiracy-prone brain.

04

Red. Courage, as she herself says: Niko is quite literally leaving her comfort zone, going on her first case, and needs all the courage she can get. It is a bold, decisive colour, fearless, strong. The colour of firefighters and ambulances, a colour that tells you you're about to be rescued, and she does save Crystal's life in this one.

But, of course, that easily tips over. Red is a colour of aggression, of anger and pain and violence. We have the Night Nurse, who goes around dredging up trauma, making people relive their worst moments. We have our monster of the week, we have raw meat and blood to bait it. We have, of course, the washer woman. And we have an outbreak of violence at the end.

(And also, red light is the most affected by absorbance. It is hardly visible underwater and disappears completely after about 10m. Maybe that is why Niko wasn't affected at all by Angie; maybe she just couldn't see her.)

05

What does the pink mean then? Romance, of course, the central theme of this episode, but her outfit is uncharacteristically mismatched, even for her, and so are the romances in this episode. Nothing works out as it's supposed to, does it? Maxine and Jenny, the jocks and their girlfriends, even Edwin and Monty: everything shoved haphazardly together, held together by force of will alone, no harmony at all.

Well. It's not Niko's fault nothing works out in the end. But man, she really did need to take off the rose-tinted glasses (metaphorically, not literally. The literal glasses are great.)

06

Oh, feeling blue, are we? A colour of melancholy and regrets. Niko is trying so hard to leave behind the whimsy, to be mature and disillusioned, but even at her lowest, this bright, powdery shade doesn't really bring the mood down. Niko is too much herself to give up on the things she loves that easily.

Blue is also the colour of dreams. Hidden things, the subconscious. And this is what this episode is all about, not for Niko, but for Crystal. She unlocks that which sleeps within her. And it is Niko (unwillingly, through her own special kind of luck) who hands her the key.

07

Bright orange! That is an - unusual colour choice for symbolism. Orange has few strong associations. Most often, I think, orange is a signal. Not quite a warning, but close - watch out, it says, pay attention. And Niko does, and saves the day.

(And what else does orange remind you of? A highly visible sign, something that shows you the right way? The warm glow of a flame, contained in a lantern or spreading uncontrollably in an explosion? Yes, this is an orange episode.)

08

White.

Death.

Obviously. White is the colour of the dead and dying: bones, and bloodless skin, and flowers on a grave. Of course Niko would know to dress in a shroud for her last day on earth. You cannot wear an all-white outfit and expect it to not be bloodstained at the end of the day, and Niko knows it's scary and the odds are bad and we might die horrifically.

But she has found bravery, and will not run away, will face the danger head on. Dressed like an offering, pure and untouched, off to sacrifice herself she goes.

It's not the end though. Death is not the end, not in this story, and white is the colour of purity, of a blank slate, of transformation. Death is only here to guide you on your way forward. Niko's story does not end here. It is her kindness and pure heart that saves her; and although she dies, she is not gone. She changes.

Into what remains to be seen.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs. 

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon. 

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees. 

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart. 

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right? 

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink. 

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…” 

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins. 

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence. 

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence. 

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?” 

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.” 

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!” 

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.” 

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’. 

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station. 

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.” 

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters. 

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction. 

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry” 

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.  

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding. 

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass. 

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect. 

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life.  The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them. 

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-” 

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry,  coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah” 

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare. 

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames. 

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence. 

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence. 

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s  tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day. 

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction. 

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does. 

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

for the ask game: grell for character and redcliff for ship :3

Aaah ofc! 🙏🏼💫 I’m still doing this though it’s been a while, btw!

Grelle

How I feel about this character:

first off, I think she’s beautiful, fr. Even before I got into Kuro, I saw her design and thought she was so pretty - and that was shortly before I started reading the manga.

I also think that she’s more complex than she gets credit for. When I write her, I like portraying what’s going on behind her queen facade - delve deeper into her psyche, her fears, how she really feels about every situation she’s in… I also think she’s very quick to act and has ended up saving her colleagues’ asses more than once, but that also means she’s impulsive and gets herself into far too much trouble.

Although she doesn’t show it, she really does regret letting her temper and jealousy get the better of her. She never got the love or support so many others she knew did, which is part of why she was resentful of her victims and others who had what she didn’t.

I also think she seems like the sort who, despite her shortcomings, has a great capacity for love and is loyal to a fault. I love showing all her layers and giving her even more.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Honestly, the only people I do ship her romantically with are William or Angelina. However, I don’t mind her with others she’s commonly paired off with, such as Mey-Rin (though I personally can’t see it sometimes), Sebastian (even if how Grelle is portrayed in fics with him often annoys me), Nina, Hannah, Undertaker, or anyone else lol.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Othello or Ronald would defo be her platonic soulmates, lol.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

She indeed is crazy about Sebastian, but more in an, “I want to fuck him and then bisect him with my scythe à la the black widow spider” sort of way. Does she wanna bang him? Yeaaaah. But by no means is she actually that into him romantically, lol.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

I wish her inner life and backstory haven’t been explored more in the manga. Not only would this have the Grelle lovers more content, but it’ll also give us more to understand her better. I also want her to get the happy ending I think she deserves. 😭

My OTP:

Grelliam. 😂 tho I’m a multishipper at heart.

My crossover ship:

Don’t really have one. I do think Grelle and Hidan from Naruto would be fucking funny, though.

A headcanon fact:

Not my own headcanon, but some of my mutuals on here hc that Grelle is of Russian origin and can even speak the language. Which I love. I also like the German Grelle hc equally, lol.

Now, for the ship part.

Redcliff

When I started shipping it if I did:

After Angelina’s death in the manga. So much angst potential.

My thoughts:

I’ve always remembered wondering if those two did have something else going on. It even seemed as though their relationship transcended what’s platonic. However, though I do like the pairing, I don’t usually seek out that many fanfics for it as two weirdly specific pairings (Grelliam and SebTaker) are the only ones I think of 24/7.

I think they could either be incredibly wholesome or extremely toxic depending on how they’re written in specific fics and given the nature of their rapport. There’s so much potential to explore it in several different ways. Plus… the ANGST.

Things done in fanfic that annoy me:

Can’t really think of any atm, tbh.

Things I look for in fanfic:

I really want another, “what if Angelina lived?” AU, fr. I also like Bizarre Doll!Angelina fics.



Whom l'd be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

Don’t @ me, but (alive) Angelina and Undertaker would be funny. 😂 /hj

Actually, I don’t really ship Angie with anyone except Grelle. But as for Grelle, defo William.

My happily ever after for them:

They’d probably actually try to make whatever they have going on a healthy, functional relationship if Angie lives. As for whether they have a family… maybe there’s the whole, “Grelle finds a baby and decides to keep it” thing.

Who is the big spoon / little spoon?

Grelle is definitely the big spoon. Angie sometimes takes over though, lol.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Lots of things. They both would read tacky magazines and penny dreadfuls together, give each other their observations while people-watching, go shopping, probably do art together… another one would be Angie braiding Grelle’s hair and making her feel so pretty while doing it. 🥹

That’s it for now! Do send in more 😁 💓

[goshdangronpa]

any of the warriors of hope because those little buggers have been on my mind for months and they won't leave help

(obvs no sexuality stuff because come on man)

Hi, friend! Any of the Warriors of Hope? How about ... all of them?!

Like-like headcanon: Masaru still thinks liking girls is icky and he's not yet aware that boys can like boys. Jataro believes that cooties are real and the grossest cooties are his own. Kotoko is clearly enthusiastic about girls but will have to really sort some stuff out as she gets older. Nagisa was never the type to think that like-liking someone is gross - he's always wanted to get married. Monaca sees the human heart as just another instrument she can play ... but she'll mellow out if given enough time and care, and then, who knows?

Gender headcanon: Masaru is the boyest boy to ever boy ... which is what I tried to be and look how I turned out lmao. Jataro is cis, but his takes on gender are so galaxy-brained that you wouldn't believe he's not on Tumblr. Kotoko will adopt more androgynous affects over time, exploring cuteness outside of traditional femininity. Nagisa can go on for a long time about his view of his own gender, but if asked to summarize, he'd say he doesn't have one. With little to go on besides my own intuition, I'm surprisingly confident that Monaca is a trans boy.

One ship I have with them: Eh, kinda weird to ship them with anyone since they're little kids. Even Kotoko, who at one point in her boss battle declares that she wants to have children with Monaca, probably doesn't like her as much by the end of UDG. Same with Nagisa, poor guy ... but they've all still got each other.

One BroTP I have with them: Gonna use this section to declare which DR teen they'd get along with (note: I haven't played much of DRS). Masaru would be thrilled by Kazuichi, a neon-haired, shark-toothed, funny-voiced goblin man who builds robots, and Kazuichi would rather embarrassingly treasure the validation from a pretty cool kid. Angie would love love love Jataro, though anyone who knows her will make sure someone else supervises them so that arts-n-crafts playtime doesn't become Baby's Second Cult. I think Sayaka and Kotoko would have a lot that they can talk about together, and I believe she'd do everything she can to nurture and protect the kid. Nekomaru and Akane would be a refreshing pair for Nagisa: they'd focus on training his body rather than his mind, but in a way that's actually healthy and clearly caring. Monaca should probably be kept away from most people for now, but Hajime is uniquely suited to be friendly with her ... so they can wax about Nagito's weirdness together.

One NoTP I have with them: I guess anyone? Since, again, they're little kids?

Random headcanon: When Masaru goes on long walks, he looks for long sticks to carry and will exchange them for even bigger ones he finds along the way. Jataro's reading comprehension is poor, but he can already do basic algebra. Kotoko's never felt safer on a film set than when she played a creepy kid in an R-rated horror movie. Nagisa can take catnaps on command for the same reason soldiers do: they never know when their next chance to catch some sleep could be. Monaca may be the rare person who would become a kinder and gentler human being by joining a school theater program.

General opinion: Suitably creepy in their roles as antagonists to Komaru and Toko, crushingly sympathetic in their motivations, and really fun on their own. The Warriors of Hope are just one reason why I'd urge people to try Ultra Despair Girls, even with all the game's faults (especially the ones related to the WoH themselves). It's incredible that Kotoko can be my favorite for her winning personality despite how tastelessly the writers treat her. Jataro also has one of my favorite character voices in Danganronpa, not referring to the vocal performance (which is great!), but to his almost Dadaist dialogue. Ah, I like 'em all!

[george-weasleys-girl]

Enemy Mine - Chapter 7

Warnings: a few curse words

~•~

Y/N winced, watching the pink handprint blossom across Fred's cheek. Of course, she couldn't blame Angie. She would've slapped the shit out of him, too.

"How dare you fucking use me like that!" Angie raged.

"I didn't use you!" Fred held a hand to his burning cheek.

"Bullshit!" She yelled. "I really was just your consolation prize all along, wasn't I?"

"No, you were never - " Fred began, but Angelina shut him down.

"So, tell me, Fred," she stepped closer to him. "We're you trying to make Y/N jealous, or was I just a placeholder until either Y/N gave in or someone better came along?"

~•~

Forgotten completely by the embattled pair in the middle of her living room, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath, stood and made her way outside, to the little bench in the furthest corner of her backyard. Breaking up someone's relationship was never one of her life goals. And yet, here she was, doing just that.

At least Angelina didn't blame her.

"I'm so sorry, Angie," Y/N had said. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

Angie shook her head. "None of this is your fault. This is all on Fred."

"Maybe," Y/N shrugged. "I just can't help but think that if I wasn't in the picture - "

"No," Angie cut her off. "Fred would be an idiotic asshole with or without you in the picture."

Y/N had only nodded in response. She appreciated Angie's vote of confidence, but it wasn't nearly enough to quell the ever-present guilt burning in her chest.

~•~

The back door swung open, startling Y/N from her thoughts. Fred walked toward her, his footsteps falling heavy and slow on the grass.

"Is Angie ok?" She asked.

"She will be," was all he offered. "Are the two of you friends now?"

"I'm not really sure, honestly. We're at least not enemies."

"That's good." Fred nodded. "Can we talk?"

"Probably should," she sighed and scooted over to give him room on the bench.

~•~

"What exactly did you think would happen?" Y/N asked. "That you'd confess your love, and I would leap blithely into your arms?"

"I don't know." Fred shrugged. "Maybe."

Y/N closed her eyes, massaging her aching temples. "That's not how this works. This isn't a fucking movie, Fred."

He shifted his gaze downward. "You hate me, don't you?"

"No, I don't hate you," Y/N sighed. "Not anymore, anyway."

"And how do you feel now?" He raised his eyes to meet hers.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know how I feel. I just know I can't forget the last several years."

"No, I don't suppose so," he mummered.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I really am."

"It's ok. I'm the one who fucked up and I've got to learn to live with it." He shrugged and gave her a half smile, before turning away again.

Y/N watched him as he curled in on himself. She'd never seen Fred like this, as if he was trying to crawl inside himself. Trying to hide himself away. She had no doubt that if he were alone, his cheeks would be wet with tears.

A dull ache formed in the center of her heart. They might have been enemies, but she wasn't so cold and jaded as to revel in his pain.

"Hey, umm," she spoke before she could change her mind. "Maybe we could we could try the whole friendship thing again."

A one-sided grin appeared on his face. "Fred Weasley is being friend-zoned," he chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"No. That's not what I - " Y/N sputtered. "I just thought - "

"It's alright, love," he smiled. "I'll take whatever you're willing to give me. And, maybe in time, I can prove myself worthy."

Y/N gave him a small, tentative smile. "Maybe."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @igncrantbliss @28cnn @saintlike05 @millies0bsimp @yeah3459 @leeknows-wife @pandoraneverland @wickedsandwich08 @bai-wuxiangs-mask @c-yberstar @soosheee @ivvees-blog @withered-rxse @maddiedinosaur @astahsvea @impossibelle

[felice-jaganshi]

Strawberry Scented Love

Radiodust Strawberry Pimp AU

Chapter 8 - Open the Door, Please

The whole night, Angel sat in his chair staring at his contract on the table of his vanity. He couldn't understand why, but Alastor had given him an “out”. At any time he could tear up this contract and be free of him, of the studio, all of it…

“Th- there's no way it's real, right?” He spoke to himself, “Why would Al give me my own contract, why would he let me go? Unless, he doesn't want me around anymore? Maybe… maybe that's it. Maybe he's just bored of me. Well fuck him, I'm sticking around whether he wants me to or not!” He stood up from the chair, “I'm gonna protect the others, I'm not gonna let him turn into another Valentino and hurt them.”

 ~~~~

After hiding his contract, Angel made his way downstairs for breakfast. Husker was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, bitching and grumbling about something or another when he looked up and saw Angel. 

“Ah, and there he is. You sure as shit made our lives harder. The fuck did ya do to the boss?” He didn't sound any more upset than usual, but his words still confused Angel. 

“‘Scuse you? What's that supposed to mean? I didn't do shit to him.” He went to the coffee pot and got himself a mug.

“Yeah? Then why is it after the ‘big date’ you two had, he suddenly told Nifty and me he's taking another fuckin’ break? Said he's leaving you fully in charge of the studio while he takes care of ‘other business’, and not to bother him unless the hotel was in danger.”

 

Angel let the words sink in. “He… he left? What the fuck?! What do you mean he left?! Just because I- no, no that fucking prick was probably already planning on leaving. He was just trying to butter me up to take the whole damn job off his hands. That's gotta be it.” He chugged his cup of coffee. And started to march out of the room. 

“Are you really that stupid?!”

Husk called after him, only for Angel to keep walking, “Not now Husk, I got a club to run now, and actors to care for.” If this was his life now, so be it. At least he was in control now.

 

~~~~~~

Angel approached the workers in the studio, they were all confused why Alastor wasn't there for the usual “top of the week meeting” they had all gotten used to, where he would select a volunteer to be on his radio show to advertise for their performances. 

“Hey everyone, the Big Boss is going to be away for a bit on important business. While he's gone, I'm gonna be in charge. Nothing's really changed, other than I now have to pick up his slack and do double duty watching over everyone as well. You all already got my number, so if something goes wrong text or call, and I'll be there. Got it? Now let's get back to business as usual.” He smiled and tried to act like Al was just on a business trip, or a vacation. 

As he walked away, Anna grabbed his hand, “Angie, what's really going on? Al left me a letter.” She held it out to him.

Angel took it and looked over the note.

 

‘My darling daughter, if you are reading this, something important didn't go as planned, and I regret to inform you I will be leaving for an unknown period of time. Angel will keep you safe in my stead, and if anything happens, go to the hazbin hotel. The princess will gladly give you sanctuary under my name. If you need to reach out to me, you can send a letter through Nifty. Stay well, and stay happy in my absence.

Remember, you're never fully dressed without a smile! -Alastor’

 

Angel's hands began to shake. “F-fuck… I really fucked up, didn't I?” He dropped to his knees.

Anna frowned, taking back her letter, holding it close to her chest. “Angie, what'd you do? Why isn't Al coming back? He… he was going to finally tell you he loves you. It took me months to convince him to! That you'd… that you'd love him back… was I wrong?” She looked horrified, her long ears drooped at her sides. “Is… this my fault?”

Angel looked at her in shock, “You knew? Months?! How- how long has he-” his eyes flooded with tears as he realized what an idiot he was being!

“Since… Before our first show, he said he loved you. That he's never loved anyone before, so he was scared to say anything.”

Angel quickly wiped at his eyes to stop the tears, but it was in vain as the wouldn't stop coming.

“F-fuck! I- I thought. I pushed him away! I let myself ruin something good, because I'm a fucking coward!” He shook his head, and spoke through gritted teeth, “No! No, it's not gonna end like this. I'ma find his scrawny ass, and I'm gonna kiss him so hard his stupid grin will fall off!” He stood up and looked down at Anna, hands balled into fists as he steeled his resolve, “I'm gonna bring him back. I promise. Just give me some time.”

 ~~~

That night when Angel returned to the hotel, he called out to Nifty. “Hey Nif! I need a favor!” 

She looked over at him, then ran off full speed! “Wh- hey, Nifty!” He groaned and chased after her. 

It took a solid hour to corner her, “Nif, please. I need you to tell me where Al is.” 

“Oh, Is at all? I thought we were playing tag! I don't know where he is~.” She giggled.

“Oh bullshit, I know you've been told to send him letters for Anna!” He frowned at her, “Nifty, please. I fucked up, and I gotta apologize to him. It's my fault he ran off.”

“I can send him letters, yeah. But I just put them in the fire and they go where he is! I don't actually know where that place is. You can try to go through the fire if you think you'll survive the trip.” She giggled maniacally. 

 

Angel groaned in frustration, “Fuuuuuck! Okay… okay.” He took a deep breath. “Nif, I'm gonna write a letter that I need you to send to him immediately, okay?”

“Okay! I hope you're able to get him to come back. I miss him already…” She sighed. 

 

And with that, Angel went to write a letter.

 

‘Dear smiles’... okay no, that sounds wrong.

‘Al, I-’  

“Fuck, what do I wanna say? How do I…” He groaned in frustration and balled up the paper. He pulled at his hair for a minute before taking a breath, and trying again.

And again…

And again…

 ~~~~~~~~

After a week of trying to write the letter, he finally had something he thought would properly convey to Alastor how he felt. He smiled at it and got up from the office chair to go give it to Nifty. 

 

As his hand touches the knob of the office door, he smells smoke. Familiar smoke.

Angel turned the lock and backed away slowly, keeping quiet. The handle jiggled like someone was trying to open it, and pink smoke seeped under the door.

“Angel~ Amorcito, open up~.” The voice was honey sweet, “I've missed you baby, don't you miss me? I'm sorry all that power went to my head. I see now how much I hurt you. I promise, it won't happen again. I'll treat you exactly how you deserve~.”  

Angel leaned on the desk and knocked over the lamp, causing it to clatter to the ground. “F-fuck…” He felt his blood run cold, as that laugh sounded on the other side of the door.

“Anthony, open the door~. Anthony~~” he whined, and his claws scraped on the door.

Angel looked around, not sure how long the door would hold. He didn't have any weapons on him. He ran around to the other side of the desk and dug through the drawers frantically! Al had to have left some kind of weapon he could use, right?!

“Angel, let's not fight anymore. I know you're scared, but I can set you free! I can get your contract from him and rip it up for you.”

A letter opener! Better than nothing. Angel took the letter opener into his hands, and crawled under the desk. Maybe he could get a shot at his heart under his ribs from this angle if he was fast enough… it'd be a small target though.

 ~~~~~~~~~

Outside the door Valentino growled, frustrated that even after all these months, Angel still had his built up tolerance to his smoke. “Anthony, don't make me come in there.” He growled, and banged his fist on the door. “I'm gonna count to three! And you better open this door, or you're in for the worst spanking of your life!” He didn't notice the shadows pooling and swarming behind him.

“One!” 

“TWO!”

A static filled voice whispered in his ear, “three.”

 ~~~~~~~~~

Angel heard several loud bangs and the sound of wood shattering. He shut his eyes tight! He heard the confident slow stride of shoes on the wood floor. Getting closer…

At the last moment, he lunged forward with a yell, his eyes screwed tight. He heard a grunt as the person he hit absorbed the impact and wrapped an arm around Angel's waist. The scent of strawberries and blood overwhelmed him.

“The letter opener? Well, certainly not the worst improvised weapon.” 

Angel's eyes snapped open, it wasn't Valentino he stabbed! He looked down, and breathed a sigh of relief. Alastor's hand had the knife in it, not his chest.

Wait, it was in his palm! Oh fuck!

“Shit! Al, oh fuck I- I thought, I didn't think you'd…” He let go of the letter opener and grabbed Al's waist with his lower hands, placing his shaking upper hands on his face. Al had such a soft and loving look in his eyes, his face and suit were covered in blood. 

“I didn't think you'd come…” 

“You needed me, of course I'd come.” He leaned into one of Angel's hands, “He's gone now. You won't have to be afraid anymore, my beloved. I'll take my leave now, if you wish.” 

Angel felt like his blood was going to boil, “If I wish?! Are you fucking insane?! ” He slapped Alastor's cheek, not too hard, just enough to startle the deer.

“You know, if you weren't so stupid, I could love you. But you're pretty fucking stupid.” 

Alastor looked shocked, and confused, “I… pardon?” 

“Did I not make myself clear? Here, I wrote a fucking letter. i was gonna make Nifty send it wherever the fuck you were, where the hell were you hiding anyways?!”

“I… was with Rosie, she's like a sister to me… so she always has a guest room open for me…”

Angel sighed, and let go of him, “Don't. You. Dare , move a muscle. You stay right there while i read this fucking letter to you.”

He took a step back and reached for the letter on the table without taking his eyes off Al, who stayed put. He looked so nervous, his brows knitted tight together and his ears pinned back, but still twitching a bit. He pulled the letter opener from his hand, the wound healing quickly. 

 

Angel took a deep breath, “You said before you were proud of me for being courageous… but when you were vulnerable with me, I let fear control my reaction. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry that I hurt you… I- I really…am.” Angel's vision blurred as tears fell onto the letter. He lowered it and looked into Alastor's eyes, giving up on the paper, “I do love you, Al. I have for a long time now. I just… I was so scared, and I still am! But I- I want to be with you, even if I'm scared of this… I want to trust you. Please Al, don't leave. I need you. I can't do this alone…”

 

Alastor stepped slowly towards him, he placed his unbloodied hand on Angel's cheek. “My love… You can absolutely run this business without me. You're a brilliant demon. But I won't go anywhere. If you want me, I'm yours. I promise you. I love you, and if I'm being completely honest with you, I'm scared too.” He wiped away Angel's tears, allowing him to see that Alastor had tears in his eyes too.

Angel saw the quivering smile and decided to make good on his promise to Anna. Angel surged forward and kissed Alastor with everything he had to give! Alastor gasped, and Angel slipped his tongue into his mouth and Alastor kissed back with a whimper, holding Angel with a shaky grip.

When he was satisfied, Angel pulled back, leaving Alastor panting, his smile missing for once, lost behind an awed and dazed expression. 

 

“Damn Smiles, you never been kissed before?” Angel teased with a smirk. Alastor shook his head softly, slowly regaining his sense of self.

“Not with that degree of skill, darling… that… good lord, no wonder people pay you for such things.” He was actually blushing!

Angel chuckled, “Yeah, well maybe I should show you what else people pay me for… after a fancy dinner, of course. A proper gentleman like yourself should take me out on a date, before getting the goods.” He caressed Alastor's face and he heard a soft squeak come from him. Like the sound a baby animal would make. Angel's eyes went wide, “Holy fuck, that… make that sound again. That was the cutest shit I've ever heard.”

Alastor blushed even redder, his smile back on his face as he turned to look away, “I have no control over that! It's embarrassing, bleating like a fawn over some sweet words…”

Angel leaned forward and whispered into Al's ear directly, “Oh? How about you be a good little fawn for me, and make that sweet noise again? Amore mio.” 

The noise happened again, multiple times as his eyes went wide and his ears twitched rapidly, causing Angel to laugh as the one he was whispering in flicked against his face a few times!

 

“Angel, please! I'm not used to… this sort of thing! Have mercy on an old sinner.”

“Yer only twenty years older than me, pops. But alright, I'll go easy on ya for now… Anna's gonna be happy you're back by the way. Everyone will be. So let's go say Hi, Big Boss.”

[blueredbulls]

Daniela Dimitrescu Headcanons

-Pansexual. End of conversation '.:]

-Would be pissed at anyone not showing interest in her

-levitates using her flies and looks at the maids and says "I know, I'm a goddess."

-Way overconfident in herself.

-Can play the piano.

-Bookworm. Also has a very messy room.

-Would race Cassandra just to run face first into a wall. (Cassandra let this happen)

-Not a care in the world.

-Experienced. Like super experienced even more so than Bela.

-Sings very often (Nicole this is your fault).

-Barges in her sisters rooms just to lay on top of them and poke them randomly.

-A sucker for someone cupping her face in their hands.

-Bakes often. Alcina says that's a maid's job so Daniela should just relax. She has a deal with one of the maid's who sneak her into the kitchen so she can bake away.

-Loves sleepovers. Especially with Donna and Angie. She likes to watch movies and eat Donna's cooking.

-Doesn't actually sleep though.

-Acts on impulse. Gets her in trouble most the time.

-She really is just like a puppy.

-Needs glasses but would never admit it. Alcina doesn't even know.

-Very good at flirting.

-Would probably randomly lick someone just to fly away cackling the entire time.

-She is a very affectionate person. Probably gives Cassandra kisses on her cheek just to piss her off though.

-"I hate you. *hugs Daniela*" "Ok, Cassie."

-Bela is a role model and a god in her eyes.